My unlikely love - Faberry

The reply - Part 2

The room is too quiet. The only sound is the soft whir of my ceiling fan, and it's almost like the whole world is asleep. Everyone but me. I'm wide awake, staring at my phone like it's the most fascinating thing in the universe. Which, for some reason, right now, it kind of feels like it is.

'Hey, Rachel. Got your text. Thanks for reaching out. I'm sorry for the way I acted today. We can meet tomorrow and talk about the duet. Your house or mine?'

The second I hit send, my heart skips a beat, and it's like everything around me shifts just slightly off balance. The message is out there now, hanging in space where I can't take it back. I've been angry at Rachel all day—she made me so mad during rehearsal—but as soon as I saw her text pop up on my screen, it was like something inside me snapped. Now I'm sitting here, waiting for her to reply, and I feel... weird. Like there are butterflies in my stomach, which is ridiculous because I'm not some lovesick teenager. Right?

I drop my phone on the bed and run a hand through my hair, trying to shake the feeling off. Why is Rachel getting to me like this? We've talked before—usually about glee stuff, and maybe I'd throw in a snarky comment for fun—but this time feels different. It's personal. There's an apology in there, an offer to actually talk. Something deeper.

I can't stop thinking about what happened today at rehearsal. Typical Rachel, hogging the spotlight, her voice all perfect and theatrical like she's performing for a crowd of thousands. I wanted to yell at her to stop being so self-centered, to remember we were supposed to be working together. But it wasn't just anger bubbling up inside me—it was something else. Jealousy? Admiration? Both, maybe. I hate how much I notice her now. How good she is, how much she owns every space she's in, like the world bends around her when she sings.

I groan and stand up, pacing around my room. My thoughts are all jumbled, and I don't like where they're heading. It's not just admiration. It's... something more, something I don't even know how to explain.

Then my phone buzzes.

I freeze, my heart leaping into my throat as I stare at the screen. Rachel's replied.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down before I pick up the phone. Why does she make me feel like this?

'Hey Quinn! Thanks for getting back to me so quickly. And thank you for apologizing too; I wasn't expecting that. I know I can get a little...intense during rehearsals, so I appreciate your patience. I think it would be great for us to work together more closely on the duet. My house is fine, unless you'd prefer otherwise? Let me know what time works for you! - Rachel Berry.'

I let out a breath I didn't even realize I was holding. "Thanks for getting back to me so quickly?" Yeah, right. It took me forever to write that text. And the rest of her message is just so Rachel—super polite, a little formal, and somehow managing to throw in some self-awareness. Still, I can't help but smile. It's almost... cute. Ugh. Stop it, Quinn.

I chew on my lip, debating how to respond. I could just keep it simple—agree on a time, work on the duet, and be done with it. But... maybe I could try something different. Be a little nicer. She apologized, after all, and I haven't exactly been innocent in this whole mess between us.

My fingers hover over the keyboard before I finally type:

'Your place works for me. How about 10 a.m.? We'll figure it out together. See you then.'

I hit send before I can overthink it, then throw my phone back onto the bed like it's about to catch fire. Why am I so nervous? It's not like this is a date. It's just Rachel. Just a rehearsal.

I flop back down on the bed, burying my face in the pillow. Tomorrow is going to be... interesting, to say the least.