My unlikely love - Faberry

The beginning - Part 1

"So..." Quinn began, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. She was sitting in my favorite chair, the one I always use in the choir room. Seeing her there felt strangely intimate, like she had taken a part of my personal space. The choir room was empty, the silence only making the tension more palpable.

Quinn Fabray and I alone. This should be interesting.

"What are we singing? I'll do anything but show tunes" she declared, crossing her arms defensively. Her tone was flat, as if she was already tired of this conversation before it had even started.

"Quinn, that's so offensive" I shot back, trying to keep my voice even. "I can sing other genres too, you know. Yes, I want to be a Broadway star, but that doesn't mean I—"

"Fine, Rachel!" she interrupted, clearly irritated. "I get it, no need to lecture me, okay?" She looked at me with a mix of boredom and irritation, her eyes piercing through me like icy daggers.

How can someone so pretty be so mean? Seriously, there's no way Finn ever fell for her personality. Her looks, sure, but we are different in every way. How did he fall for both of us?

I took a deep breath and counted to ten, just like Kurt and I had practiced. Kurt always says it's about finding your center, about channeling all that diva energy into something positive. If I can handle being the New Directions co-captain, part of the Black Student Union, the Speech Club, the Renaissance Club, the Muslim Students Club, and the Mock United Nations Club, I can totally handle being Quinn's duet partner for a week.

"Okay," I said, trying to sound calm and reasonable. "Let's brainstorm some songs. How about something classic? Maybe a power ballad?"

She rolled her eyes, and I could tell she was about to protest again. This was going to be harder than I thought.

Twenty-five minutes later, I was losing my patience. We had gone through every possible genre and song style, and nothing seemed to satisfy her.

"For the love of God, Quinn Fabray!" I finally yelled, my frustration boiling over. "What's the problem this time?"

"Berry, I'm not dancing in the background while you sing 'Don't Rain on My Parade!'" she snapped back, standing up from my chair. Her face was flushed with anger, and her eyes were practically shooting daggers at me. "It's not even a song you can dance to!"

Before we knew it, the whole Glee Club was at the door, drawn by our shouting. They looked at us with a mix of concern and curiosity, like spectators at a car crash. Santana was laughing hysterically, clearly enjoying the drama.

"Quinn, calm down" I said, trying to defuse the situation. "We can pick something else. It doesn't have to be that song."

She grabbed her bag and stormed out of the room, leaving me standing there, stunned and alone. Mr. Shue was just about to say something when the bell rang, signaling the end of the day. He gave me a sympathetic smile before leaving, and soon it was just me, Santana, and Brittany in the room.

"So... you and Blondie aren't getting along" Santana smirked, leaning against the piano with a satisfied look on her face.

"Of course, San" Brittany chimed in, her voice cheerful. "Quinn is sooo much taller than Rachel. They can't see eye to eye." She smiled at me, and despite everything, I couldn't help but relax a little.

"Yeah... you could say that" I replied, not really in the mood for their banter. "But why do you care, Santana?"

"Oh! Because San thinks you and Quinnie would make such a cute—"

"Britt!" Santana cut her off, her eyes widening in warning. "I just think it would be good for the Glee Club if you and the ice queen were on good terms, that's all."

I looked at her, surprised by the sudden show of diplomacy. "You do have a point" I admitted, considering her words. "People respect Quinn, and that's something New Directions definitely needs."

Santana looked pleased with herself, her smirk returning. "Of course I'm right. I'm always right" she said, standing up and getting ready to leave. She reached into her bag and handed me a crumpled piece of paper.

"Here" she said, looking almost conspiratorial.

"That's your number?" I asked, confused.

"God, no" she scoffed. "That's Quinn's number. Not a lot of people have it, so use it wisely." She gave me a wink, a rare gesture of camaraderie, and started to leave with Brittany.

"Good luck, Rach!" Brittany said, giving me a warm smile as she held Santana's hand.

"You're gonna need it" Santana added over her shoulder as they walked out of the room.

I stood there, clutching the piece of paper with Quinn's number on it, feeling a strange mix of emotions. What just happened? Why did Santana Lopez, of all people, help me? There are only two logical explanations: either I woke up in a parallel universe today, or I'm in a coma and this is all some bizarre dream. Maybe I'm lying in a hospital bed right now, with Finn by my side, holding my hand and waiting for me to wake up. That would be really cute...

Okay, focus, Rachel. This is real. I have Quinn Fabray's phone number. Her actual cell number. Last year, I never would've imagined this. It's like some strange twist of fate.

I folded the paper carefully and slipped it into my bag. I'll have to call her or maybe text. Teens like to text these days, right? I only text my dads, Kurt, and Finn, and he doesn't even reply that much anymore.

So that's it. I'll go home, have dinner with my dads, do my nighttime routine, and text Quinn Fabray. It's just a text. How hard can it be?