Sally felt herself leaning into his touch, against her better judgment, her eyes drifting shut as the space between them grew thinner, almost nonexistent. She knew she should pull back, should keep the walls up that she'd always so carefully maintai...
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Am I suddenly interesting to you again?
Something like that.
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Sally found herself pondering on recent events; things she'd never see herself doing, but was. For example, sitting in the choir room sewing sequins into a leather costume was something she definitely didn't see in her near future, and yet there she was with the rest of the female half of New Directions.
They had already finished up half of the mashup and were now working on their outfits for the performance. Sally didn't really know what she was doing, Tina was a big help in this regard.
Another thing Sally never saw herself doing was agreeing to a date. If there's anything in this world that Sally had grown to dislike, it was intimacy. Intimacy is usually what a date tends to lead to. Although, Sally promised herself she wouldn't let that happen. She had grown to see Johnny as a friend after all, nothing more. Their date to Breadstix later that evening was simply a distraction. Also, even she couldn't resist pasta.
"Yeah, she should totally be bossing us around right now."
Sally's eyes hesitantly glanced towards her cousin. They hadn't spoken since they'd arrived at school. Smart on Rachel's part, but since Sally's anger had ebbed away, she was starting to feel guilty.
Rachel kept her eyes on her work in her hands, "The idea of the assignment was to do the opposite of what we normally do. I'm just trying to stick to the lesson plan," she finally glanced up to glare at the cheerleaders, "which is proving nearly impossible since you're gluing those sequins on backwards!"
Sally hadn't realized that was the week's lesson plan.
"Spies!" Rachel shouted towards the entrance, nearly making Sally jump out of her skin. Her eyes followed Rachel's pointed finger as she saw Puck wheeling in Artie into the choir room.
