The Perfect Something

The Perfect Something - Chapter One

After working the graveyard shift, Rachel found herself running across the bustling New York highway, dodging every taxi, person and inconvenient object that dared to stand in her way. Her hands were weak and shaking from carrying far too many books and an excited, almost pathetic feeling of anticipation consumed her. Whenever she visited the old-timey bookshop on 38th Street, she always found the one book she wanted - and then three more that she hadn't known she wanted. It was the best feeling. Her short strides quickened involuntarily as she neared 38th Street, knocking shoulders with an innocent citizen as she turned the corner.

"Sorry! Sorry!" She said, dropping a book on the sidewalk. The battered, hunched man simply stared at her, speechless, baring his rotten teeth. "I'm sorry..." Rachel mumbled, scooping up the book and hurrying on, likening his face to one Sue Sylvester's. He looked just as disgruntled and as disgusted by her as Sue had done when the Glee Club performed 'Push It Real Good.' The sheer horror of her proximity to him caused him to recoil so she moved swiftly on, avoiding all eye contact. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that he was still staring at her, jaw dropped and brow furrowed as she skipped away down the New York sidewalk.

She kept her eyes focused on the ground until she finally reached the bookshop, resisting the urge to sneer right back at him over her shoulder. The obnoxious, alcoholic drunk narrowed his eyes, dropping them from her hair to her legs and then back up again. She recoiled in disgust and pushed open the heavy door, leaving him behind to wonder.

As soon as she stepped into the familiar world of organised chaos and breathed in that sweet perfume of paper and magic that strangely no one had ever thought of bottling, the hunched man became a distant memory.

She dumped her purse in the doorway like she usually would, shutting the dark oak door behind her. "Joyce? Are you here?" She called, straining to see over the pile of books. No answer. She stuck her nose in the air, searching for the scent of warm cookie dough or freshly poured coffee. All she could detect was the sweet caramelised aroma of vanilla and cinnamon, mixed together to create some kind of Christmassy illusion.

She gently placed the pile of adored books down by the door, shrugging off her coat to reveal a red, waitressing uniform buttoned up to her neck. "Joyce? Would you like help with anything?" She called, remaining stationary in the hallway. Again, no answer.

She hung her coat upon an unusually empty peg and cautiously ventured inside the shop, poking her head around the door. "Hello?"

"Can I help you?"

Rachel gasped and spun around, her eyes immediately latching onto the most divine, subtle, beautiful woman on earth. "Q-Quinn?" She stuttered in disbelief, wide-eyed and scarcely able to believe whom she was seeing. "W-what are you, erm, wh-what are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing." Quinn smiled, trying to decide whether or not a hug was appropriate. She didn't have a choice. Before she could comprehend what was happening, Rachel's arms were wrapped around her neck, pulling her into a crushing embrace.

Rachel's heart stopped, shocked by her own boldness as she held the blonde in her arms. Quinn looked just the same but with the slightly more angular features of maturity. There was no trace of her uptight, frigid and frighteningly wholesome persona that Rachel had once learnt to fear. Instead, she was confident and relaxed, comfortable as she stood wrapped in an friendly embrace with her high-school nemesis. They shared a smile, their eyes latching onto each other's for a moment longer than necessary. It wasn't a glare or a stare with animosity or distaste behind it, but almost as if Quinn's hazel orbs were smiling. As if to demolish any possible of worries of the diva's even further, Quinn squeezed her a little tighter before stepping away.