Glee 1. Chapter 1

AN: First and forthmost this will have nothing in common with the Disney classic "Beauty and the Beast" at all. Second, I'll be mostly focusing my attention on "Puppy Love" so don't expect frequent updates. Third, this is just something I started writing during a bit of writer's block a while back and decided to put some more work into it. Fourth it's it second person POV. Fifth it's going to be interactive (for more information read the bottom AN) and Sixth my 'Q' key is kinda stuck so if anything is missing a 'Q' I apologize and I'll fix it when I can.

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Chapter 1

It's the second week of school and you're running late. Late! You can't be late cause you love school (well aside from the people there, yeah you love school) but as it stands you, Lucy Quinn Fabray are going to be late. Well nowadays you just go by Quinn, but that doesn't seem to matter much. Most people at school refer to you as prude, Jesus Freak, or your personal favorite Celibate Queen; it's not as insulting as the others as you _are _the president of the Celibacy Club and frankly you find no reason to ashamed of the fact that you're still a virgin.

You take pride in the fact that you're not as loose as some of your classmates and you're kinda saving yourself for that special someone. And no, that's not just some excuse you use to explain why you've never been on a date before. There's a reason for that… besides the fact that no one has ever asked you out. Cause well… you've already kind of found that special someone.

But you can't dwell on that now because you're late. You enter the school to find the halls emptying out. You'd like to think that you're safe, but experience tells you that the popular kids like to wait until the last minute to go to class. They could be lurking just around the corner so you get to your locker as soon as you can.

Once there, you shuffle through your locker, occasionally looking left or right to check if the coast is clear. You grab the books for your next three classes; it's best not to make frequent trips to your locker, and a few other books to read once you finish your work. It's quite heavy for someone with your slim frame, but you've carried about the same weight daily during your freshman year so your arms have grown accustomed to the load.

You smile happily when you're done and close your locker. You look to have a clear path to your next class, but you've never proved to be that lucky. Halfway through your first step you already feel the leg trying to trip you. You try to pull back, but it's already too late. You let out a shriek as you come crashing down to the floor, your books scattering throughout the hall, and your glasses falling off your face.

"Stop picking on her Santana!" you hear someone call from behind you. Your spirits lift, hearing someone defend you, but right now you have other things to worry about.

You get to your her knees and quickly scramble to retrieve your books before some reckless student steps on them. You reach out for your copy of _Mockingjay_ and your pale hand bumps into a tan one. You pull back in shock, which allows the other person to get your book. She hands it to you, along with a few of your other belongings.

You shift to turn towards your mystery savior. You're smiling fondly, your hazel eyes glued downward. The girl sitting on the floor across from you has very nice legs, and a… Cheerios skirt? You know that your vision is bad, but it's good enough so you identify that red pleated skirt even without your glasses. Your livelihood _does_ depend on being able to notice that thing from a mile away.

Curiosity piqued, you bring your head up as you take back your things. You blink a few times when you finally see her face. Your eyes must be deceiving you, either that or your vision is worse than you thought. But it all fits; the brown hair, the chocolate colored eyes, the tan skin, the slightly large but still adorable nose.

Rachel Berry.

Head Cheerio Rachel Berry, most popular girl in school. McKinley High's most prized possession. Actually screw that, Rachel Berry is Lima's most prized possession, maybe even Ohio's. And of course the girl that you've had a crush on since the beginning of freshman year. That Rachel Berry is helping you pick up your books. You feel lightheaded as you mutter out a soft "Thanks," and hug your books close to your chest; for fear that your heart would leap out otherwise.

You feel butterflies in your stomach, and your legs have grown weak. You're thankful that you're already on the ground; else your body would have definitely given out. And the last thing you need is to give Santana Lopez more ammunition against you. Luckily the Latina is long gone, and so she couldn't possibly see the blush that you are certain is showing on your cheeks.

You're about to get up when you remember that something's missing. Rachel must have sensed your panic as she reaches for your shoulder before you can freak out. You can feel your heart trying to break out of your ribcage. "I've got them," she says as she extends her other hand which holds your glasses. You make to retrieve them, but the brunette is already unfolding them and placing them back on your face. "There."

"Thanks, Rachel." Your voice is a bit louder than before, but still barely audible. The brown eyed girl probably wouldn't have even heard you if the halls weren't so empty. It's then that you realize that you're probably late or soon to be late, but the giddiness that you feel right now overrides the fear of ruining your perfect attendance record.

"No problem. And I'm sorry about that, um…"

"Quinn," you remind her.

"I'm sorry about that, Quinn. Santana's not like that all the time; she's actually really nice when you get to know her." You have to fight the urge to roll your eyes. If you weren't a good Christian you'd gladly refer to Santana as Satan. You nod your head silently instead. It's the best alternative to saying mean things about Rachel's best friend. "I'll tell her to stop picking on you." Your heart swells, your smile widens, but you don't say a word. "Okay," Rachel breaks the awkward silence. "I should get to class, bye."

You watch as the brunette skips off, the pleats of her skirt flying about, giving you a good look at her spanks. You have the decency to blush as you stare at her ass. You're still there on the floor, staring off dreamily down the hall until Rachel rounds a corner. The brunette would have English next which was also… Damnit, that's your next class too.

You groan as you get up, darting off in the same direction as the Head Cheerio. Maybe if you run fast enough you'd be able to catch up with her. But with the extra weight you have to carry, you have no such luck. You arrive just before the tardy bell rings. At least your attendance record is still intact.

You go to take your seat, which ironically is right behind the brunette cheerleader. Rachel looks surprised upon seeing you, but also lights up with a beaming smile. You try to smile back but before you do Santana smacks Rachel on the arm, drawing her attention away. The raven haired girl shakes her head disapprovingly at her actions. The pint sized cheerleader huffs in annoyance, but does ignore your existence for the remainder of class.

Your mood should be dampened, but you're still on a Rachel Berry high. When you sit down you have an almost laughable smile on your face. In fact, you're certain that if Santana chose to turn around right now that she would in fact laugh at you. But you've learned by now that you're mostly clear from the Cheerios' torment during class.

Absentmindedly, your pen starts jotting something on your notebook. You prop your arm on the table to support you head, which is now tilted to the side as you stare lovingly at the back of Rachel's head. You should be concerned that someone will notice that lovey-dovey look on your face, but you aren't. No one ever notices you; a perk to being invisible.

Mr. Hendricks places a book on your desk, knocking you out of your daze, if only momentarily. You look down at it, or past it. Only now do you see the multitude of hearts that you had doodled with 'Q+R' in the middle of some. You're somewhat pleased that your penmanship is perfect despite not having paid any attention to your hand, but at the same time horrified.

The lack of a last initial would make things easier on you if someone saw. But the first person that you can think of whose name starts with an R is Rick. And Rick is… Rick's a douche, and not at all attractive. Even if you were straight you wouldn't even dream of liking the hockey player. At that thought you decide that it would better if someone instantly thought that the R meant Rachel. That way it would at least show that you had taste and dreamt high. Much like Rachel, you think.

You then bring your attention to the book on your table. As expected, it's something that you've already read. It's sometimes annoying to be ahead of the class. You open it and pretend to read. You know it well enough to do ace any potential projects or tests that you might be given. And if need be you could easily reread it in a day or two.

You flip your notebook to a clean page and pretend to take notes. Sure no one ever takes notes on a book, unless they're told to. And you surely don't; it breaks the experience. But no one will question it. Really you're just trying to distract yourself from the gorgeous brunette sitting in front of you.

The bell rings before you're even aware that the class is over, and when you get up you find that you have a spring in your step. You haven't felt this good in you don't know how long, and nothing can bring you down. Not even when Dave and his stupid jock friends start throwing things at back of your head during second period or when a group of Cheerios loudly gossip about you during third. None of them seem to notice that you're currently invulnerable to their antics as they continue to tease and bully at you.

During the first half of school you're invincible, that is until Finn Hudson snatches your stuffed lamb, 'Lamby' (you were a four when you named her) out of your backpack and darts out of fourth period. You chase after him, not wanting Lamby to get hurt. You know that it's childish to carry around a stuffed animal at school, but she's been your longest friend and you can't go a day without her.

In the hall you see him holding her high above his head. You panic. You jump up frantically, trying to reach her all the while screaming, "Hey! Give her back!" People start to laugh, but you don't care. You need your lamb back. But it's useless. Finn's a giant and you'll never be able to get her back from him so long as he holds his arm straight up.

You try again, and just barely graze one of her legs with your fingers. It's obvious that you can't reach her so you stop jumping and resort to begging instead. "Please just give her back," you plead. Finn lowers his hand, presently Lamby to you and you foolishly think that he's just going to give her back. You reach out, but her pulls her back and tosses her over you.

Your heart stops; Finn may be the quarterback but his aim sucks. You turn around, fully expecting Lamby to be damaged but instead find that Finn had made a successful pass to Azimio. You go after him, but he tosses to Dave and then back to Finn. The three boys are making you run back and forth between them, and you're helpless to do anything.

You know that they'll grow tired of this game before long, but for some reason you feel that they'll refuse to give her back. Instead you can't help but think that they'll tear her apart just to see you cry. Tears start forming in your eyes at the mere thought, but before they can spill you hear a familiar voice ringing through the hall.

"Hey! Leave her alone!"

The boys stop abruptly, with Lamby being loosely held by Finn. You take the opportunity to take her back from his grasp and hug her close to your chest. The students part as Rachel approaches. Finn looks terrified and while you can't see them, you're sure that Dave and Azimio have similar looks on their faces. Normally you'd find it funny how someone as small as Rachel can exhibit such fear in people twice or even three times her size, but right now you're on the brink of tears.

She yells at them, and you cower away slowly. You've never seen Rachel yell before. It's so unlike her. She's kind and sweet and always gentle. The idea that this side comes out of her because she's defending you kind of makes you fall in love with her just a little bit more. But it scares you a bit too.

The football players, as well as the others who had just stood by and watched, bow their heads in shame. You know better. None of them feel shame for what they did to you; they just feel bad that they got caught and scolded at.

You're still standing there when they leave with your back pressed against a locker while you gently stroke the little stuffed lamb in your arms. She's unharmed despite what she's been through so you're glad. But you're crying and Rachel's coming up to you. You can only image how pathetic you look; puffy red eyes, sobbing over a childhood toy that you're clutching onto desperately. You hate that you look so weak in front of her.

You cry harder and she places her arms around you, guiding you to a bench where you two sit. She takes your glasses off and brings your face to her shoulder while she runs soothing circles on your back. You're ruining her uniform with tears and you hate that too. "It's okay," she whispers. "It's okay." She uses one hand to fix up your hair while the other continues its ministrations on your back.

She hums a familiar tune in your ear as she hugs you, still running one hand through your hair almost as though she's playing with it, particularly your side braid. You're full-on sobs have subsided into tiny whimpers so she pulls back to make sure you're okay. You know you look terrible and she offers you a weak smile. "Better?"

You nod, not trusting your voice. She gets your glasses and places them back on your face. "Thanks," and just as you expect your words come out in a squeak. "You're the best." Her smile falters slightly. If you weren't sitting so close to her you wouldn't have noticed, but you are and so you do.

She shakes her head, "No, I'm not," she admits. You think it's just modesty and you want to say it but your voice is still unsteady, so instead she continues on, "I saw how they treat you, and your friends, and anyone else that they thought was a loser." She pauses seemingly ashamed with herself. "But I didn't do anything about it. Not a thing. I should have known better."

"No," you interrupt, your voice cracking. "It's not your fault. I don't blame-"

"I should have known better, Quinn." Her tone has such finality in it that you decide not to argue. "I have two gay dads." You nod, this not being new information. "And I know what they had to go through growing up. They taught me not to bully, so I didn't. But I let others do so." She lets out a deep breath. "But not anymore. I promise you Quinn, I going to make a change in this school."

Your face must light up at her words because now she's smiling at you. God, she's got a beautiful smile. And you know that you'd do just about anything to keep her smiling at you like that. She gets up; you're sure that she's about to leave and you suddenly feel alone. But she doesn't and extends her hand for you. At first you just stare at it with doe eyes and then up at her. "You're hungry aren't you? I've got some food in my locker. You can have some if you want."

You tentatively reach out. Seeing your hesitance, she grasps onto your hand, interlocking your fingers and drags you off. You feel like you're flying and all the pain and sorrow that you felt from before has been replaced with warmth and joy. And then you let yourself start to think that maybe, just maybe, this year won't be as bad as you thought after all.

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AN: All right, so down to the interactive part. Since this is 2nd Person POV, it's pretty much your story and I want to write it as such. And although I'd love to write multiple paths where you all get to chose what to do at key moments and such and such... that would be way too much work and I'd burn myself out. So instead (if you'd like to leave a review or just see this continued) I'd appreciate if you vote one of the 2 or more choices that I will have at the end of each chapter. Some will be actually choices while others will be more along the lines of how you react and sometimes I'll have both...

So...

Choice:

A) Do you invite Rachel to have lunch with your friends, in the cafeteria where everyone can see you

or

B) Do you have a private lunch with Rachel in the halls

And I'd also love suggestion if you have any.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: So this fic has gotten far more attention than I had expected. How? is all I can ask. Thanks for the support.

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Chapter 2

Rachel's touch is heavenly. Your heart is pounding in your chest and has been all day. Everything about her has always entranced you. Often you're imagined this moment; what you'd say, how she'd react, her laugh, everything. You've seen it happen time and again, but now… Now you're just a terrified little school girl who has no idea what to say or do.

You were far more courageous in your fantasies. Always the one to approach her, start up some random conversation, do something. But you're not doing a thing. If anything, you're kind of being dragged around. Of course she's not really dragging you, but leading you to her locker. It's just that you wish that you were a bit more assertive right now; this is the girl that you've been crazy about for the past year.

It's not long of a trip and when you reach your destination she relinquishes her grip on your hand to work on her combo. It's silly, but you already miss the contact. You shake it off and try to savor the moment. From insider her locker, she pulls out an ordinary paper bag. She holds onto it with one hand and with the other retrieves yours once more.

"Ready?" she asks, cheerfully. You nod. You feel dumb for being so silent, but she seems to be unfazed. A thought passes through your mind if whether she's grown used to this kind of behavior. She's leading you once more, but at a less brisk pace. The two of you are walking side by side, holding hands and fingers interlocked. The thought alone puts you in a daze which causes you to miss her words. Panic crosses your features, but she just smiles and repeats her question. "Where do you want to eat?"

"Um…" is the only thing that comes to you. You feel stupid as she reaches out for your upper arm, massaging it gently. The short sleeves you have give her full access to the skin there. She takes a few steps towards you, invading your personal space. She's close, almost as close as when you were sobbing into her shoulder.

She tilts her head to the side while saying, "Hey, you don't have to be nervous. It's just me." You want to think of her like that, you really do but you can't. Rachel Berry isn't just some ordinary girl to you, and even if she were, she did just save you and Lamby. So yeah, now instead of just being your crush she's also your hero.

"Uh… out here?" you meekly reply. She nods and leads you to a nearby bench. You sit, with Rachel's lunch in between you. From inside she pulls out a bottle of orange juice and a large foot long sandwich. It's huge. Especially for someone Rachel's size, and even more so since she's a Cheerio. You guess that your shock must show on your face once she starts grinning at you.

"Don't worry, I won't get in trouble with Sue," she assures. "She may be a hard-ass, but all you need to do is know how to negotiate." It's hard to image, but you're sure that if anyone could put Sue in her place, that it'd be Rachel. You smile at her while she unsuccessfully tries to break the sandwich in two. She struggles for a few minutes before finally giving up and laughing at her own feeble show of strength. You start to laugh too, trying to just make everything feel natural. "You don't mind sharing?" she asks.

When you shake your head, she brings the sandwich to her lips and takes a big bite before handing it to you. "It's vegan," she warns, but you already know that. You take a bite, and despite the lack of meat, you find that it's quite good. She seems to smile at your reaction to her food, but you're too busy eating to notice. "Is she okay?" You stop mid bite. "Your lamb," she clarifies.

"Oh, yeah. She's fine, thanks to you."

"What's her name?" You blush. "What?"

"Nothing… her name's Lamby," you say looking down.

"It's cute."

She takes a sip of her juice and then offers the bottle to you. You take the juice tentatively, exchanging it with the sandwich. As you drink you taste the slightest hint of her cheery chapstick on the bottle. You unconsciously lick your lips to savor the taste, and afterwards hope that she didn't notice, but she's looking at you and you're pretty sure she did.

"I like your hair," she comments. "Especially your braid. It's beautiful." You giggle and shake your head. You're sure that your cheeks are red… _again._ It's a wonder that she hasn't said anything about it yet. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," you answer, staring down at her juice bottle to avoid her gaze. "Nothing, it's just…"

"What? You don't think you're beautiful?" You freeze. The question catches you off guard. Your parents have told you that you're beautiful, so has your sister Frannie occasionally. But no one has ever asked if you thought you were. You don't know. "Here," she says, putting her lunch away. Rachel takes your face with both hands. She cups your cheeks rubbing soothing circles with her thumbs. "Oh my, your sink is so soft. And your eyes… I've never noticed them before."

She's holding your head still so you can't turn away. The way she looks makes it seem like you and her are two people in the world. Her left hand travels up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You stare into her chocolate brown eyes as she stares into your hazel ones. The intimacy of the moment disappears instantly as she drops her hand.

Rachel smiles at you as though nothing had happened and hands you her sandwich. "Let's eat." She takes out her sandwich and hands it to you. "You really are pretty, Quinn," she says as you take a bite out of her sandwich. You busy yourself with chewing while you try to come up with a response. Her mood seems somewhat dampened by your silence, but she tries her best to not make you feel uncomfortable.

Your heartbeat has eased up since lunch began and everything eases as the two of you continue to eat, exchanging her sandwich and juice between you. You're still nervous, but Rachel's so sweet that it's hard not to feel safe around her. You scoot closer after a while and offer a soft smile, a way for you to show your appreciation for her kindness. "Thanks for… this."

"You're welcome." The megawatt smile she gives you is bigger than any other that you've seen her give. "So tell me about yourself, Quinn," she says taking a sip of her juice. You take another bite of her sandwich, stalling.

"There's really not much to say," you admit.

"Oh, don't be like that!" she whines. "Come on. What do you like to do?"

"Well… I like to read."

"Yeah, I'd guessed that much," she laughs. After helping you pick up a dozen books this morning, it doesn't come as much of a surprise that she does. "What else?" It feels odd. Rachel seems to be genuinely interested in you rather than just forcing small talk. She puts her bottle down and takes back the sandwich. You don't know if she just wants to eat or she knows that you're using it as a distraction from speaking. Either way you don't have much of a choice now.

"I draw," you say, shrugging. You notice that she's put her sandwich away, which confirms your suspicions. She's just watching you, listening attentively. Her shoulders are on her knees with her arms straight up, letting her lean prop her head with her hands. "I like to dance… and sing."

"Really? Me too!"

"Yeah, I know," you breathe out. The words come out naturally, but then you notice the intrigued look on Rachel's face. She quirks her eyebrows.

"How do you know that?" Her tone is more inquisitory than accusatory, but that doesn't help quell the unease that you're feeling. You shouldn't know; you're not her friend… or you weren't her friend… or whatever. But you do know and you don't want to lie about it.

"Um… there was this one time," you start explaining. "It was after school and I was doing some homework in the library." She nods, urging you to continue. "When I was leaving, I got slushied." Rachel winces, and bites down on her lower lip. "It wasn't that bad," you tell her, guessing that she must feel at least slightly guilty. "Anyways, I decided to take a shower in the girls' locker. It must have been after Cheerios practice and that's where…" You trail off when you notice that she's burying her face in her hands, muttering something that you can't quite make out. "What's wrong?"

She drops her hands, slowly shaking her head back and forth. "Nothing, nothing," she answers. "It's just… I'm just a little embarrassed," she admits. You stare blankly at her.

"Embarrassed? Why? You sound amazing!" She turns away, once again hiding her face behind her hands. But even then you can still see the faintest hint of a blush on her cheeks. "You do, really. When I first heard you, I thought I was hearing an angel sing."

You don't mean to tease her, but you kinda are, although you're just being honest. You found Rachel's voice to be so heavenly that you would sneak into the showers after cheerleading practices to hear her sing. You're not proud of it, and you're surely not going to admit it to her.

"Thanks… so what kind of music do you like?" she asks, in what you see as an attempt to move the subject away from her. You guess that she's feeling as uncomfortable as you had earlier, so you don't have a problem with it.

"All sorts, really," you shrug. "You?"

She hesitates before speaking, "I have a thing for showtunes." You're completely smitten with her, and how she so shy about this. "Don't look at me like that," she scolds lightly, smacking you on the arm. "I have this dream of singing on Broadway one day." She lets out a sigh and pauses. "Huh, I've never told anyone that before. You're easy to talk to, Quinn."

"You should join Glee Club," you suggest. "It'll help you get into school like Julliard and NYADA… and I'd love to hear you sing some more." To be able to listen to her and not hide, to clap after she's done… you'd love to have that chance. Maybe you'd like to be selfish and keep her beautiful voice to yourself, but something as wonderful as Rachel's singing should be shared with the world.

"I'd love to," she says. "But I don't think I have the time. With Cheerios and all the other clubs I'm part of. I probably would have if I had known last year that Glee Club would be running again, but…" She doesn't have to say more. You know better than anyone the load that Rachel has on her shoulders.

She's part of almost every club aside from Glee and… well the Celibacy Club. It's uneasy, knowing that. And all you can do is hope that she hasn't slept with anyone yet. Though you know that even if she hasn't, the chances that she's sleep with you are nonexistent. But a girl can dream. "Let's finish up," she suggests. "Lunch is almost over." You check the clock for the first time and sure enough your time with Rachel is at its end.

You feel like Cinderella when the clock struck midnight. The fantasy disappears and you get dropped back into reality. A place where you're envious of girls like the Cheerios, girls like Santana. Girls that can get anything or anyone they want. A place where guys like Finn and the football team slushie you and toss you into lockers. What kind of man treats a girl like that, you wonder.

Lunch ends and you get up with a soft, "Bye." You don't get far though before you feel Rachel tugging on your arm. You turn around.

"Wait," she requests. Rachel shuffles through her bag, her hand still wrapped around your wrist. She produces a granola bar and places it in your hand, enclosing your fingers around it. "For later," she says. You place it in your own bag with a smile. As you leave for your next class you hear her call out, "We should hang out sometime!" You come to a complete halt and turn around. You just look at her, walking backwards slowly until make your way around a corner.

You still can't believe the effect she has on you. A single word has you floating on air. You gracefully take your seat, only to have someone violently shake you. You look beside you to see Kurt looking at you worriedly. "Earth to Quinn, where were you right there? And better yet, where were you at lunch?"

"Oh… I'm sorry, I uh…"

"Was it the jocks? What did they do this time?"

"No… well yes. Kinda, but no." His face contorts in confusion so you start over. "It started out with Finn taking Lamby."

"We've told you not to bring that thing," you glare at him. "Bring her," he corrects, remembering that you issues with referring to Lamby as an it. "To school."

"I thought you wanted to know what happened?"

"Sorry, sorry."

"Thank you. Anyways," you continue, dropping your voice to a whisper. "Finn took Lamby right before lunch and started tossing her around with a few of his stupid friends. They almost hurt her." You can tell that Kurt wants to roll his eyes but choose not to chastise him for his lack of concern for Lamby's safety. "But then Rachel showed up."

"Rachel? As in Rachel Berry?"

"No, Rachel McAdams," you say sarcastically. "Of course Rachel Berry. Now will you let me finish?"

"My bad, continue."

"So, Rachel showed up and stopped them. She just told them to back off and… they did." Kurt looks to be astounded. He knows as well as you that the school would bend to Rachel's will, but neither of you know her to use her power… at all. He obviously has as hard a time believing you tale as you do. "And then we had lunch together." His eyes bulged out of their sockets.

"Really?" His lips form into a curious smirk. "So… are you going to ask her out?"

"What? No!"

"Why not? You talk about her every day. Now's your chance," he reasons. He has a point, but you know that he's teasing you more than providing real advice. And he's probably just annoyed with how you're constantly fawning over Rachel. You ignore him for now. You ignore everything, so much so that you don't even notice the day passing by until you're leaving school and heading home.

Nothing else bad happened to you for the rest of the day, or maybe something did and you were in too much of a daze to pay it any mind. Either way you're home safe and sound. Your parents aren't home yet. You run up to your room and jump into your bed. From under your pillow you pull out your diary. Just like Lamby, you've owned your diary for years. You're nearing the end of it and have had to stuff extra papers inside to document all the highlights of your life.

_Dear Diary,_

_Rachel talked to me today! Can you believe it? And not only that, but she saved me and Lamby. We had lunch together. We're friends now… I think… I hope. I don't know. I just wish I hadn't acted so stupid back there. I must have looked so stupid. She probably thinks I'm a total geek, but I don't think she cares if I am. I can't read her at all, but she's just as amazing as I always thought she was._

_I'm not sure what to do. Kurt joked that I should ask her out. Yeah, liked she'd actually say yes. She could have anybody she wants. I do want to though… ask her out that is. But that'll never happen, especially with the way I choked today. I guess I can always marry her in my dreams._

Almost ironically, that's exactly what happens in your sleep. There are countless faces, almost none that you notice, in the crowd. Your mom and dad are there; that fact alone tells you that it's a dream, but you don't that ruin the illusion. You're walking down the aisle with your father. He wouldn't go along with this; at least you think he wouldn't. He may be okay with you having Kurt as a friend, but if you came out as gay? You don't know.

But again you focus on the moment, no matter how fake it is. Rachel looks beautiful. She always does. You feel butterflies in your stomach, but you don't feel the fear and anxiety that usually comes with it. Step by step you take, closer to your bride. But then a buzzing awakens you from your sleep. You're eyes shoot open and you groan. You were just getting to the good part.

At the very least you're on schedule today and can't possibly be late. But then again, being late might mean running into Rachel again. You won't risk it though. You share a breakfast with your mom and dad; pancakes with a side of bacon and eggs. Having shared a meal with Rachel, you feel a bit uneasy. She surely wouldn't approve of your meal. But you eat it anyway; you don't want to seem ungrateful to your mom. Besides it tastes so good.

When you get to school, you don't run into Rachel. It's as much as you expect. You make your way to your locker, disappointed. There's something sticking out of it. You sigh. It's probably some stupid prank. But as you get closer you notice that it's a flower sticking out of your locker. A single white flower. A gardenia. You love gardenias, but no one knows that.

You check over your shoulder. Now you're sure that it's a prank, but nothing happens. You take it out of your locker and chance a sniff. You think Rachel. You forget about getting your books, and rush to your first period to ask her about it. Rachel's at her usual spot talking to Santana. You walk slowly up to them, holding the flower in front of you. "Hey," you say. They turn and Rachel waves at you, her eyes sparkling as she spots the flower.

"Can't you see we're talking, Jesus Freak?" Santana spits out. "Move on."

* * *

AN: So some of you during your votes decided to choose what this Quinn would more likely do as opposed to what you want her to do. And I like that idea, but feel free to vote for either the choice you like the most or the choice you think Quinn would do.

**NOTE:** Choices will have consequences in the long run, nor will they necessarily turn out how you expect. And I may have to eventually put a deadline for when votes will be counted, but I'll deal with that later if need be.

But anyways...

Choice:

A) Do you go to your seat as Santana says

or

B) Do you wait and see how Rachel reacts

or

C) Do you defend yourself


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Sorry about the wait. Life's been... stressful. But whatever.

* * *

Chapter 3

You flinch at Santana's words. Despite how often you've heard them, you've never quite gotten used to it. There's a viciousness in the glare she's sending you, but it leaves you instantly when Rachel nudges her side. "San, stop it." Her voice is soft, a whisper, very unlike yesterday when she protected you from those boys. Santana just gives her an incredulous look. It's like she's asking if this is some sort of joke. "I mean it, San." Santana huffs and twists in her chair so that she's not facing the two of you.

Rachel turns to you with a smile. She's about to say something, but stops when her friend gives her chair a slight kick. Rachel gives her a look. You can tell that she wants to say something, but she chooses to sigh instead. A student squeezes past you, and you then notice that you're kind of in the way. You step around to the front of Rachel and Santana's table.

"I see you got my flower," Rachel says cheerfully, eyeing the gardenia that you're holding close to your chest. You nod, offering a toothy smile.

"Yeah, I did. Thanks, it's lovely," you say, earning a gagging sound from Santana. You hate that she's around; she's ruining the moment. You try to take it with stride, to not let it bother you. Your failure at doing so is shown clearly on the apologetic smile on Rachel's face. She mouths out the words, 'Ignore her.' You try.

"I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I went with something I thought would highlight the color of your eyes," she admits. Santana groans. Your eyes dart to her momentarily before refocusing on Rachel.

"They're actually my favorite."

"Really? Oh, I knew that," she says with a laugh. "That's what I meant to say." Santana continues to be obnoxious by roughly clearing her throat. Rachel sighs. You just can't seem to win. "We'll talk later, okay?" You nod meekly and make your way to your seat, gently placing your flower down in front of you. The two of them start talking again, although the nature of their conversation is more hostile than it was when you entered the room.

They're talking about you. You don't hear your name, but you know that they are. You squirm in your seat, torn between eavesdropping and just minding your own business. You decide on the latter, but with your close proximity, you overhear bits of their conversation regardless of how much you try not to. You get nothing concrete, just some curses from Santana, and nothing at all from Rachel.

Rachel's too quiet for you to understand a word she says. You assume that she's trying to be considerate of your feelings, but you'd prefer it if you could hear her telling Santana that you're not a freak. You look down; focusing on the assignment you have today. A ball of paper hits you directly on the tip of the head. Your eyes dart up to be met with the Latina's devious smirk.

You want to say something. You know that you can't, not that you actually have the guts to do so anyway. Luckily you don't have to since Rachel lightly punches her arm and shakes her head. You squeak out a, "Thanks," but Rachel doesn't acknowledge it. You guess that she didn't hear, or at least you hope that's the case.

The pair of them have stopped bickering, but you can't help but feel a pair of eyes burning holes in your skull. You decide that it's better not to check to see if you're right. Instead you focus on your work, which is a bit of a challenge in it of itself since you left your books in your locker and no one in class will even think about sharing with you.

It wasn't always like that; you're first month in McKinley had actually gone by pretty well, but once you were targeted by the football team and the Cheerios everyone started avoiding you like the plague. Good thing that you're always ahead of the class; you'll be able to finish most of this assignment off of memory.

You get to work, focusing on the sound of your pen scratching on paper. The work is simple enough, although you get stuck here and there. Your foot taps a beat whenever you need a second to think. You're finishing up faster than most everyone else. You pause to sniff your flower, noticing that Rachel had scooted herself to the far end of the table she shares with Santana.

She's not far behind on the assignment and you wonder if you'll get your chance to talk. It's not ideal with Santana around, but this class in the only one you share with Rachel. It's unfair, you think. The both are smart and take the same honors classes and the two of you are surely to take the same AP courses later on, but despite that you only share one period. One.

It's unfair, you think, but there's not a thing you can do about it. Supposedly you could ask for a transfer of class, but without a valid reason for one you're out of luck. And of course, changing around your whole schedule just to see Rachel more often is a bit extreme, and if you were to do so you'd probably see your behavior as of a stalker and you don't want that.

You look at the clock. There's still a good amount of time left in class. You're almost done and by the looks of it Rachel's already finished. It's perfect but you hesitate only for a second before extending your leg in an attempt to tap her chair. Santana notices your movement and roughly swats your foot away with her own. You winch and let out a weak squeak at the pain. You try to glare at her, but she doesn't even take the effort to look at you.

Your ankle hurts a bit. You bring it up onto the chair and rub it gently. It doesn't look bad. You don't think it's likely to bruise, but that knowledge only does so much to brighten your mood. You try again with your other foot. Santana won't be able to reach you this time… unless she's willing to go as far as kicking Rachel's chair into your leg. You sure hope that she isn't.

Santana doesn't, but your light tap isn't enough to gain Rachel's attention. You tap her chair again a tad harder. Her head pops up and turns back to you. You offer a shy wave. Rachel smiles. She turns back momentarily, to adjust her things, before twirling her chair around and scooting herself to your table.

"So gardenias are your favorite, huh?" she asks, continuing your conversation from earlier. You nod.

"They mean 'secret love'," you explain. Her eyes widen slightly.

"Do they?" She's genuinely surprised, and the small flicker of hope that filled your chest earlier has dimmed slightly. You nod, keeping your smile in place. It's irrational to feel this upset. "I didn't know that." It's almost as irrational as thinking that Rachel had a secret crush on you. But you do feel upset. "I just thought that they were pretty like you and went well with your eyes."

You tilt your head down to hide the blush on your cheeks. Really, does she have to be such a charmer? And now she's giggling. She's doing this on purpose! Not that you mind, this kind of attention is far better than the kind you get from the rest of the Cheerios. She's just watching you, seemingly smitten at your actions which she apparently finds to so adorable.

The bell rings. Class is over. Darn. She gets up and puts her seat back to her table. "I'll see you later, okay?" You manage a small nod and she disappears from the room. You get to your feet grab you flower and make your own way out. The still feel the butterflies in your stomach, making your knees buckle. You make it a few steps out of class when an arm blocks your path.

Santana.

"We need to talk," she says. Your eyes dart to her cold expression. Most days she looks at you like you're nothing. She doesn't think much of you, if anything at all. But right now she's acknowledging you as something more. An enemy? A threat? You don't know, but it feels a bit empowering. You hold your head up high, clutch your gardenia closer to your body, and try to go around her.

"I have nothing to say to you." She looks stunned, but is quick to cut off your escape.

"Good, you can just listen then." Her cheerleading workouts make her more agile; you probably can't out maneuver her. You relent and let her speak. "I'm just going so say this once, Blondie. So pay attention." You steel your expression, not letting her see a hint of weakness. "Rachel's my friend. I look out for my friends, and she doesn't need people like you dragging her down. So back off." She turns to leave.

"And if I don't?" you mange, swallowing a lump in your throat.

She spins back with a smile on her face. She's laughing. "You don't want to know," she says. You don't like the glint in her eye. You can almost see the gears turning in her head; all the things she plans to do to you if don't do as she says. "You think what I've done so far is bad? You have no idea." She's silent for a bit, examining you. Her eyes flicker up to yours for a second and she smirks. "You're lucky that Rachel gave you that," she says, looking down at your gardenia, and then leaves.

Your following class is laced with thoughts of how to proceed. It wracks your mind. You're good enough to be Rachel's friend; you know you are. You can't let yourself listen to Santana. You have to ignore her threats. Rachel will protect you. Right?

You sigh, clearing your thoughts and closing your eyes. You've barely touched your work for this period, and only because you are otherwise preoccupied. Every few seconds you can't help but check on the jocks sitting in the back of class. They may not actually answer to Santana, but they'll surely do as she asks. A warning attack feels imminent; it's only a matter of time. And it's only worse since you have no idea what the Latina has planned. The name-calling, the shoving and tripping, the slushies; they've all come to be expected. If Santana tries something, it'll be bigger.

You about Lamby and what happened yesterday. The whole thing was a spectacle and with the way things spread, the entire school should know about it by now. Jacob probably even put it up on his blog. Santana would know. You reach for your bag, making sure that she's securely in place. You zip your bag back up. Lamby's claustrophobic, like you, but it's for her own good. You bring your gardenia closer to you, easier for you to grab.

You just feel nervous. You're alone for most of the day, and they could strike at any given moment. And as second period comes to an end you feel the looming danger ever approaching. You'd feel more at ease if you had some more classes with your friends. Luck is never on your side.

As you walk to your locker you run into Mercedes. "Hey girl!" She comes up to you, taking you into a big hug. "Why didn't you tell me about what happened yesterday?" she asks, adding in a whisper, "About Rachel?" You redden. "You've been crazy about her since forever and you don't tell me?" she playfully chastises.

"I'm sorry. I was kind of caught up, I was…" Dreaming about a future where you were married to Rachel. Yeah, you're not going to tell her that. She shakes her head. You get the feeling that she knew what you were thinking.

"It's no biggie," she tells you. "You can tell me about it later."

"Yeah, totally."

"And who's that from?" You look down to see her looking at the flower Rachel gave you. Oh, this day is just a train wreck of emotions. Up and down, up and down. You'll probably go crazy by the end of the day. Hopefully it'll at least be at a high point. "From Rachel?" she teases, causing your cheeks to turn a shade of pink. "Oh girl, we really need to catch up. But we should get to class." She offers a goodbye, leaving you completely embarrassed in the middle of the hallway.

The day has been crazy enough, but luckily third period is your most calm class. There are only a few Cheerios there, and with only mere taunts, they aren't very threatening to you. Truth be told, you think that they're just trying to make names for themselves and show that they'll follow Santana's orders. They're only minions, poor ones at that.

Their comments are the same as always. Jeers about your glasses, your religion, your everything. They even make fun of you by calling you a dumb blonde. It's completely absurd as you keep a perfect GPA, not to mention that a few of them are blonde themselves. You'd laugh at the irony of it, if you wouldn't suffer any backlash.

The torment from these girls is strictly verbal, but today you feel a few things hit your head. You check the ground; balls of paper. Such childishness. They continue their petty assault whenever the teacher has her back turned, though with Sue on their side, they probably wouldn't get as much as a slap on the wrist for their behavior. It's only an annoyance. You continue to work, easily being able to ignore their actions. It makes you feel suspicious. Something's up.

It's not long after that you see Dave through the window of the door. You're still got a good ten or so minutes left in class. You ask to use the restroom and are able to catch him, a giant cup in his hand, rounding the corner to the hall that you usually use to go to your fourth period. It's a trap and you conclude that the Cheerios were merely trying to distract you.

When you get back in, you feel a swell of confidence. It's bit unwarranted, but hey why not allow yourself to feel good? The only thing is that this is obviously not of Santana's planning. You hate to admit it, but she'd smarter than this. You can only guess that Finn is behind this; payback for yesterday, you suppose.

He's not very bright, so a simple plan would be perfect for him. You know he has a thing for Rachel, just like you so you have a particular hatred for him. But as far as you know, you have no reason to be jealous of him; Rachel's love life is… obscure at best. If anything, he might just jealous of you. Rachel had defended you and made him look like a fool in front of everyone. Yeah, he's totally got a grudge against you.

You're forced to take the long way round after class. You avoid it due to the immense danger that it presents, but with the jocks waiting for you in a separate hall you'll be fine if you're quick. You move fast, your books held close to your chest and your gardenia firmly grasped in your hand. Your light blue baby doll dress and matching flats will be able to survive a slushie attack, but your white cardigan won't.

Every now and again you check over your shoulder, but there's no one in sight. The dimwitted jocks probably haven't even taken into consideration that you took a different route. You giggle at the thought. You round another corner and spot Rachel, all by lonesome, down the hall. You wave at her. She spots you, smiles, and waves you to come over.

You're going that way anyway so you have no reason not to. She waits for you at the intersection. You get closer and then see her roughly pulled into another hallway. You break into a sprint, chasing after her. You don't know who would hurt her, or even who would think about hurting her. But you can't just stand by and do nothing. As you reach the corner you hear a familiar voice.

"What's been going on with you?!" It's Santana again. She's always there. Always.

"What are you talking about?"

"Uh, the way you're trying to be friends with Fabray," she says matter-of-factly. "Why are you wasting your time with Little Miss Goody Two-Shoes?" You hear Rachel try to answer, but her response is quickly cut off. "Really Rach, she's starting to think that the two of you're actually friends," she scoffs.

"She is my-"

"Yeah right," Santana replies, disbelievingly. "Look Rach, we both know that she's just your little charity project. And you know what? If you feel that bad for her, fine. I don't care, but at least tell it to her straight." You feel your heart clench, like Santana just thrust her hand into your chest and is now squeezing the life out of your heart.

"It's not like that Santana." Rachel's voice is stern, but shaky. She seems to have forgotten about how you were approaching her in the hall; she's too distracted. You refuse to believe that she's only doing this to clear her conscious. You can't. You look down at your gardenia. "You don't know what you're talking about. Quinn's… special." Santana scoffs again. "She is… she's…"

"Come on Rach, I'm your friend. She's not." Santana growls in frustration. "What is so special about her, huh? She's a nobody, and she's going to drag you down. And just cause she thinks she's better than us doesn't mean that she is."

"Santana just stop."

"No." She's adamant, and even if you can't see her you know the look she has on right now. "Just tell me, why do you even care about that stupid little-"

"Santana!" Her counterpart calms down. You can hear her deep breaths.

"Just tell me."

* * *

AN: So due the popularity of this fic, I am totally considering make a full-on "Choose Your Own Adventure Fic" complete with branching paths and multiple endings, but I'm not promising anything. Nor do I have plot but I was thinking of either of something like a horror fic or a mystery. Something like that. If I do go through with it, I won't be posting it until I'm completely done or nearly done.

On an unrelated note, I really want to write a Marley fic, but I don't know who I ship her most with yet...

And does anyone know of a good Faberry/Stardust crossover fic

But anyway...

Choice:

A) Do you continue to listen

or

B) Do you leave

And to add more depth...

Feelings For Rachel:

A) Do you believe and trust her

or

B) Do you let Santana's word discourage you

Please be specific about your votes. Thanks!


End file.

Glee, Friendship, Romance