Kissing Quinn Fabray

Chapter 4

There are others, too. Several of the two Mr. Berrys (Berries?) together. I wonder if Rachel took these. She's almost as good as her dad.

I'm at the high school section of the wall, nearly at the end. Here's Rachel in her football uniform, shoulder pads encasing her, black lines beneath her eyes. I remember this! The way she looked, the way I wanted to pull her under the bleachers and kiss her senseless. Mostly, the way I worried myself sick that she would get hurt.

The last photograph stops my breath in my throat. It's the largest one on the wall. It's Rachel. High school Rachel. My Rachel.

She's alone, on stage. Performing. Microphone curled into her hand, lights sparkled into stars behind her shining down, lighting her up. She looks... unstoppable.

My chest tightens, staring at it. There's not enough air.

There's a soft thudding on the stairs and I look up to see that Rachel dropping down them lightly, almost skipping, her face lit up in the most breathtaking smile.

"Rachel," I say, and all the air I was fighting for escapes my lungs in a rush. I feel like I might capsize.

Even now, with her hair braided loosely in pigtails and wearing a charcoal hoodie, chucks, and the tightest jeans I've ever seen, she's unstoppable. She's fantastic.

She's perfect.

She jumps off the bottom step, and her arms are immediately around my waist. I don't even remember going to her, but here I am, holding her against me. I feel like my face may spontaneously combust and burst into flames, I'm smiling so big.

"You look adorable," I murmur.

"Somebody told me to wear a hoodie," she says. Between her giggling and her pigtails, I have this urge to pick her up and twirl her around in my arms.

Instead, I tug a pigtail lightly and kiss the tip of her nose. I tell her, "You'll be happy you listened. Trust me."

"I'm already happy," she says, and then her hand is on my cheek, guiding our lips together in the softest, sweetest kiss. Her lips are full of heat, like the rest of her, and they fit with mine perfectly. She caresses my cheek with her thumb, holding me steadily against her. I love the way her mouth tastes.

My heart is actually fluttering in my chest.

It feels so good, but somehow it also aches.

"It's been too long since you've kissed me," she murmurs against my mouth, and I'm inclined to agree. Can we just skip the date and stand here in the foyer kissing all night?

I bury my nose in her neck and breathe deeply. There's nothing on earth that smells like Rachel. She doesn't wear perfume; it's all her. It's kind of earthy and peppery and, well, Rachel. I nuzzle her, and the way she tips her head to the side makes me think she might want me to kiss her there.

The thought is intoxicating, her wanting my mouth on her body.

"Girls, I'd like to get—" Rachel's dad says, coming back down the hallway. I don't hear what he'd like to get because I spring back from Rachel like she's doused me with scalding water.

"Quinn!" She looks slightly shocked and more than a little hurt.

"Your father," I hiss, and she rolls her eyes dramatically.

"Oh, good grief, Quinn," she says, catching me by the hand and pulling me back into her arms. "No one cares."

I look to Mr. Berry for confirmation, but he only shrugs and shakes his head.

Rachel kisses me to prove her point and when I break away nervously, Mr. Berry is smiling warmly at us.

He's fine; Rachel's fine; I'm fine. I feel myself relax slowly back into Rachel until I notice that in one hand, Mr. Berry is clutching a bulky camera with a heavy-looking lens. "How about a photo?" he says, and I feel myself stiffen all the way down. Getting my picture taken is almost like a punishment for me. I don't look good in pictures; every flaw frozen for eternity.