The moment the theme for junior prom was announced that Monday morning, a change came over the former head cheerleader Quinn Fabray. She smiled at everyone, was nice to those who accidentally bumped into her in the hallway when her regular demeanour would be to send them the iciest glare she could muster. The entire school somehow figured it out simultaneously — this was Quinn's start to campaign for prom queen, albeit unofficially. After all, where were the posters?

Rachel, for one, was ambivalent about the whole ordeal surrounding prom. Since it was only recently that she had friends to call her own, she did not have the schoolgirl fantasy of attending prom with a date, nor did she expect to run for prom queen, like Quinn aspired. It must be nice, Rachel thought, to have this quintessential high school milestone to look forward to, like Quinn did.

During a study period that Rachel shared with Quinn, Kurt, Santana, and Mercedes, they gathered around the same table with their books laid out in front of them. Well, all except Quinn. She sat separate from them, citing that she needed to do extra research for their history paper. Rachel glanced at her sometimes, her long blonde hair draped over her shoulders, a look of concentration on her face.

"We are going to prom, right?" Kurt asked the table. "I refuse to miss out on high school experiences because I just so happen to go to a bigoted school."

"Hell yeah we are," Mercedes replied. "The admission price is steep, but I think it'll be fun. Should we rent a limo and everything?"

Kurt and Mercedes chatted amongst themselves and with Santana about specifics and group photo opportunities, while Rachel wrote up a draft outline for her history paper — probably the same paper Quinn was working on, seeing as they were in the same class. She glanced at the blonde's direction again and inhaled sharply.

Quinn was looking at her.

Rachel immediately ducked her head once more and buried it between the pages of Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.

Why was she looking at Rachel, and with such soft eyes, at that? Rachel shook her head to rid herself of thoughts before she could even make them. She reached for a pencil to make a note on her drafts when the familiar aroma of Quinn's perfume – something like peach blossoms, sweet and floral — assailed her senses, further eradicating critical thought on Rachel's part.

"Hi, Rachel. Can I talk to you about something?"

"Of course, Quinn. What seems to be the problem?"

"There's no problem," she said lightly. "I just want to discuss something. In private."

At the mention of privacy, everyone at the table paused whatever it was they were doing and turned to look at Quinn. Santana raised a brow. "What's something you can't discuss with us, your glee family?"

"Shut up, Santana," Quinn said, with no bitterness in her tone. It was playful, even joking. "So?" She looked at Rachel, who was speechless and so she just nodded, rose off her seat and followed Quinn outside the library and into the bathroom. Quinn waited until the freshman left before she locked the door behind the girl. "Why do you look nervous?"

"You just locked the door and we're alone together and — "

"Do I still terrify you?" Quinn asked softly.

"Well, no," Rachel admitted. "I suppose a part of me felt that I should feel that way. But no, I'm not afraid of you, Quinn."

"Good," the blonde smiled and took a furtive step towards Rachel. "So, are you thinking about attending prom?"

Rachel blinked. Was this what Quinn wanted to discuss with her? Why did it have to be in private? "Yes, we — Kurt, Mercedes, and Santana — were just planning and talking about it before you approached. I assume you're going as well — you know, the entire glee club can probably share a table amongst ourselves — "

"No, it's not about that. Well, it's a little bit about that," Quinn smiled and Rachel couldn't help but smile too. Quinn had that effect on Rachel — or perhaps on other people as well. One where she had such a vivid capacity to make others feel what she felt. It was, Rachel recognized, potentially dangerous.

"What is it?"

"Do you want to go to prom with me?"

Quinn blurted out those words, in that order — to her — and Rachel struggled to comprehend.

"You… Me… Prom?"

Quinn giggled, and it was the most pleasant sound. "Yes. Do you want to go with me?"

"As friends?" Rachel's voice sounded so strange in her ears. Was it the acoustics of the bathroom?

"No," Quinn took another step closer to Rachel and it was probably Quinn's proximity that made Rachel's head spin. "I want you to be my date, and I'll be yours."

Rachel had the inclination to believe that she entered some kind of weird, alternate universe where Quinn was asking her to be her prom date, and not Finn, the golden boy, the leading man, the star quarterback, like everybody expected her to do. Still, the sound of Quinn's smoky voice uttering those words, asking Rachel to be her date, was bizarre. But not unwanted.

"But I thought you're campaigning to be prom queen?" Rachel asked.

"I am," Quinn's smile was back, and brighter than ever. Rachel couldn't help but notice that Quinn seemed… excited? "And I was hoping you could help me with it. We could campaign to be prom queens — together." She took another step closer to Rachel and held the smaller girl by her shoulders. "Think about it, Rachel. We would be a symbol of hope for any closeted lesbians and gay people in this school! If they see us, they'll vote for us. One in three people identify as gay now."

Rachel bit her lip. Quinn's eyes looked intense, and she assumed it was because of the notion that they — or she, really — can win prom queen. With Rachel's help. "That, and I'm sure sleazy straight boys would jump at the chance to ogle two girls for their consumption." She muttered.

"Exactly! Everyone likes lesbians!"

"Quinn," Rachel started. She squirmed out of the blonde's grasp. "While it makes me uncomfortable, this notion that you want to pose as a lesbian to win prom queen, I agree with your former point. Young people do need queer representation in their daily life, not just through celebrities or public figures."

"I'm not gay," Quinn was quick to retort. "Just so we're clear on that."

Rachel sighed. "Of course not," she mumbled. "That would seem too good to be true now, wouldn't it? I'm just saying — as the daughter of two gay dads and with Kurt as one of my friends, I think that this would be a little problematic, wouldn't you say?"

Quinn crossed her arms over her chest. Raised her brow. There was the head bitch in charge everyone knew and feared. "And why is that?"

She may be a little bit afraid of the blonde before her, but Rachel refused to be glared at and bullied into silence. Especially about this kind of thing. "You are taking a narrative that is not yours and using it for your own means — to win prom queen! That's just like when Ariana Grande's song was nominated as an LGBTQ anthem, when the song itself is not even remotely queer — really, it's about loving yourself, which…" Rachel huffed. "All I'm saying is — it is cruel to fool people into thinking you're one of them when you're not."

Quinn softened and she sighed. "Look. No one has to know I'm not gay. People can think whatever they want."

"Yeah, right," Rachel scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Judging from the way you were so quick to deny it, I find it hard to believe that you'd be okay with people assuming or even just thinking that you're gay."

The blonde huffed and looked away, her jaw working as she, Rachel assumed, thought. "I'll have to work on the denial thing," she said eventually.

"Not to mention," Rachel began again, and Quinn rolled her eyes and sighed. It was clear that she was close to running out of patience for the smaller girl. "Do you even believe for one second that the school would accept that you suddenly like me enough to campaign for prom queen together, after you made your disdain for me so apparent for most of last year?"

Quinn huffed again, and Rachel had to admit — it was funny to see someone other than herself be the huffy one. "You make a fair point."

"Of course I do," Rachel nodded sagely.

"So does that mean you're not going to help me?"

"Not necessarily," the diva said, brow scrunched. "I would love to help you, Quinn. But in order for us to have a chance of winning, for people to believe us, you're going to have to make amends with me — and to some extent, romance me — publicly."

At this, Quinn raised her brow. "You want me to… woo you?"

"More or less. I already like you as a friend, Quinn, so it's not about having to change my feelings for you necessarily," Quinn's high cheekbones twitched, and Rachel felt her heart pick up in its pace at the hint of the shy smile on Quinn's lips. "It's more to sell the idea of us being together, seeing as the culture of prom presupposes that the prom couple is precisely that — a couple."

Quinn tugged at her chin and Rachel pictured her smart, honour roll brain and how it churned in thought. "Okay," she finally conceded. "But I have your word that you'll eventually go to prom with me, right?"

"That part, you have on lock," Rachel replied with a bright grin. "But be warned — Just because you're the prettiest girl I've ever met, I won't be easy, Fabray."

The blonde smirked and raised a refined brow. "I like a challenge, Berry."

Rachel returned to the library and to her seat, where her friends were sitting in silence. Three pairs of eyes watched Rachel lower herself onto her chair, and she sighed. "What is it? Something on my face?"

"What could Quinn Fabray possibly want to speak to you about?" Kurt asked in a hushed whisper. "And why did she look like she's happy about something when she returned?"

The diva glanced where Quinn had been sitting, and sure enough, she smiled as she read. She seemed to have noticed Rachel staring, and she smiled even wider, enough for Rachel to expel a dreamy sigh, and did a little finger wave at Rachel. The brown-haired girl swallowed hard and smiled back.

"She just asked me for a favour, that's all. It's nothing for you three to worry about."

"We'll see about that, Berry," Santana retorted, eyes narrowed. "We'll find out, one way or another."

Rachel palmed her forehead and reopened her history book. "Can we just go back to studying? Please?"

Her three table mates looked at each other before they returned their attentions to their schoolwork. Santana's veiled threat hardly scared her — Rachel knew she was only curious, and that her curiosity wasn't some kind of ploy to be the top bitch in school once more — she seemed to have stopped caring about her reputation altogether. As for Kurt and Mercedes, their motives seemed to have stayed the same. Which was, they wanted to know anything and everything about what was happening in school — for no reason other than to be in the know.

The study period ended and Rachel excused herself to her locker and retrieve her books for the next class, which was Calculus. Why she had to take a math class to get into NYADA baffled her — wasn't it enough that Rachel maintained an A average for all her other courses? She scowled at the textbook and tucked it under her arm.

She took a seat in front of the classroom in hopes that she would be able to absorb information via proximity alone. Rachel looked up at the same moment Quinn walked into the room, carrying her textbook in one arm. Their eyes met, and Quinn smiled again and, smoothing the fabric of her skirt, took the seat beside Rachel.

"You look like someone just told you Funny Girl sucks," Quinn teased.

"I'm not doing too well in this class," Rachel grumbled. "I have half the mind to complain to the admissions board in NYADA about requiring a math credit for a dramatic arts school."

"Maybe it'll come in handy for acting someday."

"If I have to play a character who knows how to tackle and solve differential equations?" Rachel asked with a small smile.

"Exactly," Quinn giggled. "I can tutor you, if you want."

Her hazel eyes sparkled and Rachel distantly wondered if this was Quinn getting a headstart in "wooing" her. She swallowed, glanced around the room and saw a few curious eyes watching them. Rachel returned her eyes on Quinn and saw that the blonde never looked away from her for one second. And Rachel realized that she was still waiting for a response.

"I — err — that is to say — "

"Relax, Rachel," Quinn's tinkling laughter was reminiscent of springtime, like brightness, like light. Rachel shook her head — Quinn barely flirted with her and she was already like this. What happened to not being easy? "I just want to help. You need to make it to New York, after all."

"In that case," Rachel's cheeks felt warm and her cheekbones ached from smiling too much. "I appreciate the help, Quinn. Are you available on Friday? Probably not — it is a Friday and you are a popular girl, after all — "

Quinn smiled. "I'm free on Friday, Berry. We can work in the library — or… I can swing by your place after school?"

Somehow, those words were loaded with a meaning Rachel could not figure out. If this was how Quinn Fabray flirted with anyone on the regular, no wonder the school was half in love with her. How the things she said carried a double entendre that was not necessarily sexual — but held a promise — that Rachel couldn't help but ponder at.

"My place would be b-better, I think," Rachel said after she cleared her throat.

"Agreed. It'll be more comfortable."

Rachel's jaw dropped at the undeniable innuendo of Quinn's words and her tone that bordered on seductive, but not quite. She looked around, saw that Mike who often sat beside her until Quinn annexed his seat watched them with wide eyes. He and Rachel locked eyes and he gave her a thumbs up, which she laughed at, despite her blush.

Class begun when the teacher walked in, and she spared no time starting another lecture on calculus concepts that Rachel struggled to concentrate on. Numbers didn't scare her, unlike the stereotype of the artist and liberal arts-focused people — but when letters were added into the mix, Rachel had a tough time about it. Thankfully, Quinn seemed to have a strong grasp of the mathematical concepts that she taught Rachel what she needed to get through the period — even better than the teacher herself.

When class ended and while Rachel and Quinn packed up their things, Rachel's old seatmate came up to them with a wave.

"I was about to get fake-mad at you when I saw that you didn't save me a seat," Mike told Rachel with a grin. "But then I saw it was Quinn so…" He let his words trail off.

"I just felt like sitting with Rachel today. You can have the seat back tomorrow if you want." Quinn said with a remarkably off-hand and casual tone that Rachel almost believed her and almost got sad about it. They rose together and Mike followed them out of the classroom.

"Hey, no, it's cool," he said. "You can have my seat anytime. I was getting sick of Rachel asking me for help for every question."

"Hey!" Rachel raised her fist and Mike danced out of her reach with a laugh.

"I'm teasing. But wouldn't you rather have a pretty girl tutor you in calculus than boring old me?"

"You're right, but that doesn't mean I'm not mad at you."

Mike snickered and patted the top of Rachel's head. "There, there. I'll see you two later." He waved and ran down the hallway for his next class. Rachel watched Quinn who watched Mike in amusement.

"I didn't realize you and Mike were close," Quinn commented as she followed Rachel to her locker to put her textbooks away.

"We have a few classes together, and we go to the same dance studio. I also give him vocal training from time to time. And we sort of hang out every weekend." Rachel retrieved her biology textbook and closed her locker door, then proceeded to follow Quinn to her locker. It was easy talking to Quinn for some reason, and Rachel guessed it was because of how the blonde had her guard down — with her, at least. Quinn looked at ease walking down the hallway with Rachel, despite the looks and the whispers. Then again, Rachel surmised, Quinn probably prepared for this eventuality, and so steeled herself for the consequence of appearing beside Rachel.

Since they had separate classes, Quinn walked Rachel to the biology lab before heading to her chemistry class. Rachel stood by the doorway and watched Quinn, her perfect poise and her long blonde hair trailing behind her. Santana appeared behind Rachel and cleared her throat. Rachel nearly leapt out of her skin and they walked into the classroom and sat on the same lab bench together.

"So you're walking to classes with Quinn now, huh?" Santana donned her lab coat and retrieved the safety goggles from the rack. "Since when? What the hell is happening between you two?"

"Nothing," Rachel insisted as she escaped Santana's interrogation for a brief moment to retrieve the lab kit at the front of the room. She returned just as the rest of their biology lab group gathered on the bench, which allowed her reprieve from Santana's questions. They focused on the task at hand, with Rachel and their other lab mate writing down notes and working on the lab report while Santana and the other classmate told them of their findings.

It was such a busy class for which Rachel was grateful. It meant that she avoided talking to Santana about topics that had nothing to do with biology and the lab experiment.

When she thought she was safe, washing her hands by the sink, Santana came up behind her and startled her. "Don't think you're safe from me, Berry."

"Why do you want to know about me and Quinn so badly?" Rachel asked, irritated now. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

"No," Santana smirked. "And I like pissing you off — I like pissing Quinn off, too. And I like killing two birds with one stone, if you will."

"Great," Rachel rolled her eyes and removed her lab coat. "Just know that you won't be getting any answers from me."

She spun around and gathered her things, promised her other lab group members that she would have the report typed and printed out by the next time they met. She escaped Santana though she knew it wouldn't be for long, seeing as it was lunch break and the glee club shared a lunch table together. Rachel faintly thought about eating lunch at the auditorium to spare her any need to evade Santana.

Might as well get some practice done before tonight, she thought.

The auditorium was dark, with only a few of the spotlights illuminating the floor of the stage. Rachel ate her sandwich. Her legs hung off the edge of the platform while she looked out towards the rows upon rows of empty seats.

Once she finished eating, she sat by the piano to play her scales and do her vocal warmups. She then sang a random song that popped into her head as she warmed up, and so lost in the song was she that she did not hear the footsteps upon the stage until she finished the last note of the song, and she heard faint applause behind her.

"There you are," Quinn approached and nudged Rachel by the shoulder to have her scoot aside so she could sit on the piano bench with her. "I was looking for you at the lunch room but you weren't at the glee table."

"I was avoiding Santana," Rachel said. "She's prying."

"I know, she tried interrogating me during lunch, too." Quinn tinkered with a few notes and Rachel watched her long, delicate fingers, her pale knuckles and tapered nails dance along the keys. "Would it be so bad if we told her? Not the truth, but the public version of it. That we're a couple and we're going to run for prom queen together?"

Rachel fidgeted in her seat. Quinn played the right hand parts of Fur Elise, so Rachel accompanied her with the left hand arpeggios. "I think we should give it time. If anything, we should convince Santana that we are legitimate more than anyone else. She has the nose of a bloodhound when it comes to lies and deceit, after all."

"It's because she can be a lying and deceitful bitch," Quinn retorted with a laugh.

"Right," Rachel smiled. "So if we manage to convince her, of all people, no one would dare question her judgement. Everything will fall into place after that."

Rachel played the arpeggios at a higher octave and her hands brushed Quinn's just as the blonde reached for the keys at the same octave. She did not flinch when their hands touched, and to Rachel, that seemed like an improvement to a few hours ago, when Quinn nearly tripped out of her skin in her rush to deny she was anything higher than a one on the Kinsey scale.

"Rachel," Quinn began after she took a deep breath. She remained staring at her hands, and how they danced against the ivory keys. "I hope you don't get offended when I ask this, but — are you gay?"

At least there was no hint of malice and repulsion in her tone, Rachel thought. "Why would I be offended over that?"

"I - I just… I don't know," Quinn laughed, her tone wavering with such unease.

"I'm bisexual," Rachel inclined her head.

"Oh. That makes sense."

Rachel laughed and shook her head in amusement. "People tend to forget that, I suppose. Why do you ask?"

"You seem to already know what we should do," Quinn observed. "Like you thought about it a lot. Not to mention that you seem… generally unphased about the entire thing — but I initially thought it was just because you have two dads."

"That may be part of it, but I also have been obsessed over Hollywood and stardom for most of my young life, so I know how PR relationships work. I know it would be easier if we just go ahead and declare that we're running for prom queen together," Rachel rested her hands on her lap and stared at the ivory keys, the polished black sharps. "But wouldn't you think it's weird too, if let's say, me and Santana suddenly decide to run for prom queen together?"

"You're right," Quinn admitted. "I wanted to thank you, by the way, for helping me achieve this."

Quinn took a deep, stuttering breath. Rachel wanted to turn, to look at her features, but she imagined it would be too awkward if she did, so she stared ahead, at the same direction Quinn faced. "We're kind of friends, Quinn," Rachel said. "And this is what friends do."

"Santana's one of my best friends and I would never dream of asking her for help about this," Quinn said with a chuckle.

"You two have a different rapport than what we have, that's all," Rachel laughed and looked at Quinn, who watched her with avid eyes. It took Rachel aback, but she managed to rein in the physical manifestation of her surprise and continued her train of thought. "With Santana, you have a type of frenemy relationship where you two thrive on pushing each other's buttons. You two are competitive, and it drives you two to be better — albeit better than one another."

"And what's our rapport?"

Rachel was at a loss of words. "We're… friends, I suppose."

"Who are about to blur the lines a little more?" Rachel heard the smile in Quinn's voice, and she smiled a little too. "As long as we know where we stand, right?"

Something about Quinn's words constricted Rachel's chest a little too tight. Quinn's comment, offhand and light her tone may be, felt something akin to preemptive rejection. Rachel imagined that Quinn drew a perimeter of salt around herself to prevent Rachel from breaching any boundary. A shaky breath and a smile later, the lunch bell resounded and she and Quinn walked their separate ways, to attend the rest of their classes.

The following days that passed weren't… awkward, exactly, but they were not comfortable either. With every class that Rachel and Quinn shared, they took to sitting beside each other. It alarmed teachers and students alike, to the point that one cheerleader asked Quinn if Rachel forced to sit beside her. Rachel guessed that even though Quinn was no longer in the Cheerios, they still respected her.

Anyway, Quinn denied being forced to sit beside Rachel. She even went as far to clarify that she chose to sit beside Rachel, actually, then flashed the cheerleader a smile, and returned to her work. It alarmed the cheerleader, who shot Rachel a confused look, but left them alone.

And sometimes, when Rachel walked the hallways alone in between classes, she would pass by Quinn who would smile as if she was the only one worth smiling at, and say hello. Loud and clear, for everyone to witness. It sent Rachel's heart aflame, but her fire extinguisher of a brain knew to put out a fire before it spread. It's all fake, she reminded herself.

But still, with the way Quinn looked at her. Those hazel eyes that held such promise. That smile that stretched her features brightened her face to the point of blinding. A girl could only handle so much.

With every day that passed, Santana's curiosity grew worse. Everywhere Rachel looked, there she lurked, to the point that she even roped Kurt and Mercedes into watching Rachel whenever she was around Quinn. So during glee club on Thursday afternoon, the prickling at the back of her neck grew too much to bear when Quinn appeared and sat on the chair beside Rachel.

"Can I help you?" Rachel asked irritably. She spun and faced Santana, who raised her brow.

"You can. It's a simple answer to a simple question — what is going on between you and Miss Elsa over there?" Santana jerked her head at Quinn's general direction.

"I didn't know you watched Frozen."

"Shut up — it's a good movie about sisterly relationships and the soundtrack is a bop," Santana snarled. "So? Answer my question, Olaf."

Rachel winced and her hand went to her nose. Before she could offer a not-as-scathing rebuttal, Quinn squeezed her knee and faced Santana.

"Is it so wrong for me to try and be friends with Rachel?" Quinn asked with no frigidity to her tone — to cancel out the Elsa comment, perhaps? Rachel wondered.

Sure enough, it surprised Santana too. "Well, no, but… it's weird. All of a sudden you grew morals and you're nice to Rachel? Of course it's no surprise to anyone in this room that Rachel will mount the lap of anyone who's remotely nice to her but — "

"It's not all of a sudden," Quinn's voice was soft. Her eyes lingered on Rachel and she found herself swallowing hard and feeling a little faint. "It took me a while to realize that being a bitch to Rachel won't help anyone, least of all, myself. I just want to get things right," she smiled at Rachel and for that one sparkling minute, Rachel was — once again — in the brink of believing. Quinn looked at Santana again, who maintained a stern face. "Is that too much to ask?"

"No," Santana conceded with a roll of her eyes. "Fine, I get it, alright? Being a bitch can be tiring. But you didn't have to get all sappy about it."

Quinn smoothed back her skirt and resumed her seat. Rachel chanced a glance towards their mutual ex who said nothing, but judging from the look on his face, he had a lot on his mind.

Like, literally a lot. So much so that he looked confused.

Friday finally rolled around, and the moment Rachel woke up and got on the elliptical to go through her mental agenda filled her with such zeal. While sure, she spent more time with Quinn the past week than they ever did in freshman year, it was still nerve-wracking to have the Quinn Fabray in her house. For a tutoring session, but still.

She straightened her room in case they find their way there later tonight — and the thought of it made a blush erupt on Rachel's cheeks. She showered and got dressed, said goodbye to her dads with a kiss on each cheek, and departed for school.

"So, today's the day, huh?" Mike, along with Sam, appeared behind Rachel while she rummaged through her locker. She jumped from shock and glared at the two boys.

"What's happening today?" Sam asked.

"Quinn's tutoring me in Calculus after school — it's not a big deal. Mike is just being weird by making a big stink about it."

"Lies," the taller boy smiled and leaned back against the wall of lockers. "No one can deny that something was going on between you two — add to that what happened in glee the other day? The gossip mill churns, and it churns fast, Rachel. I can see the headlines now: Fabray-Berry feud finally finished."

"Why does Quinn's last name go first? Doesn't it make sense that mine does because then it would be alphabetical?"

Out of nowhere, Quinn appeared, and Rachel jumped from surprise — yet again, which made Quinn grin. "Mike was going for an alliteration in his fake headline."

"I was."

"And it's also all about the shape the mouth makes to make the sound. "Also, the vowel of my name flows into yours — it makes sense."

Rachel looked at Quinn, then at the two boys. "It really doesn't, Quinn. Look at Sam, you broke him!" Sure enough, Sam was muttering 'Berry-Fabray, Fabray-Berry,' repeatedly.

Quinn giggled and roughed up Sam's golden hair. "It's that linguistics dork in him. I assume we're still on for tonight?"

Rachel nodded her assent and the two boys excused themselves, Mike leading the still muttering Sam down the hallway. "I'm going to have to meet you at your house — I have something to do right after school. I'll be at your place around five, maybe?"

"That's perfectly fine by me," Rachel smiled and closed her locker door. She fell into step beside Quinn who walked her to her first class of the day. They shared a smile before Quinn left with a final wave. Rachel, once again, admired the retreating form of Quinn's back as it receded further and further down the hallway.

She settled in her seat and took out her textbooks. Hopefully she would not be distracted by thoughts of a certain blonde ex-cheerleader. Her grades couldn't slip now, after all.

The day passed with minimal issue, and it passed quickly — for Rachel, anyway. Most of her classes were a blur, except for the ones that she shared with Quinn, where everything seemed to shift and align into a sharp focus that it left Rachel exhausted. Everything about Quinn, from the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, or how her eyes skimmed a page to read the assigned text for AP English literature seemed worthy of note, in Rachel's mind.

Don't be ridiculous, Rachel told herself. How would knowing the exact shade of Quinn's eyes help you in the long run when they seem to change every day?

Like some kind of mood ring. Like, right now.

"What are you looking at?" Quinn asked, her voice a low murmur. "Do I have something on my face?"

Quinn looked at Rachel and it was like being steamrolled. This was worse than any crush she felt before, and Rachel hated it. That distant feeling of hope, the nearness of how much she wants all of this to be real.

"You do have something on your face."

Quinn frowned and caressed her chin, her cheek. "What is it?"

"The prettiest face I've ever seen."

Silence. A snort, and then a burst of laughter. Quinn threw her head back and laughed hard and loud. Since it was a time meant for silent reading, the classroom had been dead silent — at least, until Quinn laughed so much that the teacher, in his alarm, did not know how to react.

Quinn apologized for interrupting the silence, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her giggles. The entire time, Rachel watched her and felt incandescent about it.

"Oh Rachel," Quinn said, breathless.

"Oh Quinn," Rachel said. She did not mean to match Quinn's breathlessness, but what can she do, when she felt dreamy-eyed for this girl beside her? They smiled at each other. Eyes were on them, Rachel knew, but for once, she did not want to be seen by anyone but Quinn — and only by Quinn.

Once classes were dismissed, Rachel's pulse increased in pace that she trembled in trying to unlock her locker door. She wrestled her textbooks into the cramped space and remembered to retrieve her calculus textbook — as if she could forget — and closed her locker. On her way to the parking lot, she found Tina and Brittany so she paused to chat with them for a bit.

Quinn had gone to do whatever it was she needed to do after school — Rachel saw her pass by in a blur to head to her car. She looked like she was in a hurry, which made Rachel wonder if she was taking up Quinn's time for their tutoring session. It worried her a little, and she made a mental note to apologize for it later.

Eventually, Mike, Sam, and Artie passed them by and stopped to chat with them as well.

"Why are you still here? Shouldn't you be at home?" Mike asked Rachel.

"If I'm at home, I'd be pacing and trying to keep still. I'd be vibrating from anxiety, so no thank you. Why do you care that Quinn is tutoring me so much?"

Mike shrugged. "I was hoping we could rope her into playing D&D with us, and you're our ticket into doing that. Since Santana flat out refused and called us a bunch of nerds," he looked to Brittany who pouted with a nod. "And Mercedes just gave us a blank look."

"I hope Quinn calls us nerds too," Sam groaned. "I don't want to be DM to six people."

After a few minutes of chatting about a variety of things, Rachel finally excused herself. Sure, there was still an hour and a half left before Quinn's projected arrival time, but she needed to make sure her house was clean and that the snacks she prepared for their study session were adequate. Hell, if she got too anxious, she might even bake some bread. She said goodbye to her friends and drove home.

Waiting, as to be expected, amplified Rachel's worries. She grew jittery, the ticking of the clock became magnified and it annoyed her, so she drowned out the noise by tuning the radio to the jazz station. She sat on the couch, her legs slung over the armrest. She was in the middle of singing along to Nina Simone's Here Comes the Sun when the door opened and in walked her dads.

"Why hello, little darling," Leroy kissed the top of Rachel's head. "Quinn not here yet?"

"Not yet — dad!" Rachel shrieked when she saw Hiram at the corner of her eye about to dip a celery stick in the hummus Rachel made from scratch. "Don't you dare ruin the perfect swirl I made!"

Hiram chomped on the celery stick without the dip with a pout.

Rachel sat on the couch sandwiched between her two dads who asked about her day. She settled into the comfort of their tenderness, their affection. They discussed their days with one another, Rachel bursting in raucous laughter at the shenanigans her daddy went through at work.

And was interrupted by the doorbell ringing.