Serendipity

CHAPTER 12

After they'd finished their dinner, and Quinn had made quick work of a disgustingly large piece of apple pie, a la mode, thank you very much, they obliged their server by posing for a picture together in front of the bakery counter. Quinn smiled at the camera as she wrapped her arm around Rachel's shoulder, her smile growing even wider when she felt the brunette's arm wrap itself around her waist. That was definitely feeling she could get used to. After they signed a few autographs for people who had suddenly recognized them because of the camera – or who still hadn't a clue who they were and just wanted to have their autograph so they could Google their names later, most likely to eventually try and sell the autograph on eBay – they made their way out of the deli with Rachel's hand tucked firmly in the bend of Quinn's arm.

"I can't believe the number of people who recognized you," Quinn said as she pushed open the door. "Talk about being a superstar, Berry."

"Hey, I'll have you know that just as many people recognized you – Miss I just got four phone numbers. You did throw those away, right?"

Quinn laughed and nodded as she placed her hand over Rachel's on her arm. "Not yet, no. There wasn't a way to do it discretely while we were surrounded," she answered, enjoying Rachel's little possessive streak. "I will later, Rach. Don't worry. He's so not my type."

"Good," Rachel laughed as she pushed open the door. "Just so long as you remember that."

"What? That I like beautiful brunettes?"

A blinding flash of light interrupted Rachel before she could form a response. Not even half a second after that, the yelling started.

"RACHEL, WHY ARE YOU IN LA?"

"QUINN, IS THIS YOUR LATEST GIRLFRIEND?"

"HOW WAS YOUR DINNER?"

"RACHEL, AREN'T YOU VEGAN? WHAT WERE YOU DOING IN A DELI?"

"ARE YOU GUYS DATING?"

Quinn plastered on the fake smile she always wore for the paparazzi and glanced at Rachel. "Don't answer them," she murmured under her breath as she tightened her hold on Rachel's hand that was still tucked into her arm, and began pushing her way through the small crowd. She wasn't sure if the paparazzi in Manhattan were as ruthless as they were in LA, and she didn't want Rachel inviting trouble. She wasn't a big enough celebrity that this sort of thing was commonplace for her, but she had run into her fair share of cameras during the Oscar race the year before, so she knew what kind of trouble they could be. She did a quick count of the flashing bulbs and was relieved to note that there were only a handful of paparazzi surrounding them. Five eager photographers were easy enough to get away from, but she cursed herself for parking a little less than a block and a half away from the restaurant. Not that it was her fault, that was the closest space she could find, but it still meant that they had a few minutes' walk to get to her car.

And that meant the paparazzi had a few minutes to yell at them and take pictures.

"RACHEL, WHY ARE YOU IN LA?"

"WHERE DID YOU GUYS MEET?"

"WAS THIS A DATE?"

"QUINN, WHAT DO YOU THINK OF TYSON HOWE GETTING PICKED UP FOR SOLICITING A PROSTITUTE?"

"WAS THAT THE REASON HE WAS FIRED FROM YOUR NEW PROJECT?"

"WHO IS YOUR NEW LEADING MAN?"

Rachel just smiled politely beside Quinn as the paparazzi took their pictures, the only sign of her discomfort being the way her hand tightened on the blonde's arm. She was used to paparazzi following her in New York, but she had honestly figured that she wouldn't be an interest to them once she got away from the bright lights of Broadway. A couple times she had to do a quick double-step to keep up to Quinn, who was still smiling and nodding at the reporters as they hovered around them yelling and taking pictures, trying to get a rise out of the women, trying to get something that would net them a healthy paycheck from a tabloid.