Glee Oneshots

A Night in New York

Glee AU. Quinntana because I'm obsessed.

I'm Quinn.
I'm a writer.

And that's all I know about myself. I write romance stories, despite being very much single. But I know exactly how it all works. Girl meets girl (because I'm really gay) and there's some issues (missed signals, annoying ex) but they eventually get together. Boom. Bestselling book right there.

The thing is, nobody knows that it's me. The author on the books is Lucy Stark. A combination of my real first name, and the last name on my fake ID. My full name is Lucy Quinn Fabray, but only Holly (my editor) knows that I go by a fake name. It's easier that way. I worry that I won't match up to peoples expectations of me.

Then the girl moves in. And my life changes a little for the better.

The first time I see her, I'm sitting out on my balcony, soaking in the last rays of sun. I've managed to write another chapter of my book, which has been a work in progress. My editor will be over the moon, she's been getting worried about me. Apparently you can only go so long without having a girlfriend, until people start getting concerned.

Not that many people worry about me. My parents have all but disowned me, after I announced that I was a writer. They don't talk to me anymore. They did send me a birthday card (saying happy 20th. I was 21.) but that's it. I spent Christmas in New York, alone, watching horror movies and pretending that I couldn't hear my neighbours (above me) having sex, or the other neighbours (beside me) having a Christmas party.

I don't have many friends. I'm never funny enough, and I hate going out places. I was quiet in high school, preferring to spend my time reading in the library rather than talking to people. I made it through college without getting into too much trouble. My roommate did call me a cold-hearted bitch (but who got kicked out of college? And who graduated with the highest results in the past 10 years?) so that didn't work out.

I'm not lonely. I'm happy. Being independent, it's what I'm best at. Despite not being in a serious relationship, I can churn out several books about young love, romance, friends with benefits to love.

The girl arrives just after the streetlights turn on. It's late October, and the sun sets earlier and earlier each day. I'm curled up on my deckchair, drinking hot chocolate and listening to music. The perfect night. But my perfect illusion is shattered when something flies up and neatly hits me in the face. I pull of my headphones and lean over the side.

She's standing in the street below, the light illuminating her like a spotlight. I look back on my balcony and see that there's a balled up piece of paper. That's what she threw at me. I turn back to face her and speak.

"Can I help you?" I say, trying not to be too loud. There's a family beside me, and their kids are probably in bed. Last thing I need is to wake them up.

"Uhm, yeah. I'm moving in, but the landlord didn't give me a key or anything. Can you buzz me up?"
She replies. I hesitate. What if she's lying, and is just trying to break in. But I quickly dismiss that idea as being ridiculous. Who would want to break in here?

"Sure. Give me a sec." I unwrap myself from beneath my blankets and walk inside. My apartment is warm, and I've decorated it the way I wanted. Warm wood, with brightly coloured accents. No pictures of me with my friends or family, instead I have movie posters and reproductions of artwork.

I go to the door and press the buzzer, letting her into the building, then go into my kitchen. I look through my options for dinner: pasta or soup. As I'm weighing each option out in my head, there's a knocking at the door. I sit down my food and open it. The girl from earlier is standing outside, a nervous smile on her face. She's pretty. Like, really really pretty.