So Close, and still so far

New York, Nationals: Quinn's Narration

                  

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Quinn's Narration
New York City a year before....

Everyone is excited for Nationals.  The whole feel of New York City, the bright lights, the glamour, Broadway, and the fact that Rachel Berry was stupid enough to purchase tickets from a homeless guy just made my day.

This would have been easier if I didn't get to see that dumb look on Finn's face whenever he's with Rachel.  Sometimes, I do wonder what I ever did see in him. 

But right now, I feel like something that had been rightfully mine has been taken away from me.

To tell you honestly, I think I've been feeling a lot like that for some time, though I refuse to analyze this part during this entire trip.  New York definitely is my ticket out of Lima, Ohio.  I scan the interior of the hotel we're staying at, the Intercontinental.  Not as grand as the Waldorf, but with the budget New Directions has I'm even pleased that we're at least staying somewhere with a three star rating.  Mr. Schuester is busy making the room arrangements and you can bet Kurt is going to be bunking with us tonight despite the Boys and Girls division line.

Everyone is busy and the mood is cheerful as we all try and settle in the lobby.  I steal looks at Finn and Rachel and something uneasy settles.  They're happy, so together.  Why can't I for once have something like that?  A few months before the whole teen-mom issue, I had it all.  I was the untouchable head of the Cheerios Quinn Fabray, didn't I deserve at least something after all I've been through?

I feel like the universe is telling me something.

Then it hits me.  Like a tidal wave of tsunamic proportions, I see a tall dark-haired handsome young man sauntering in the lobby in a light charcoal grey suit, white linen shirt and dark navy blue silk tie that contrasts his bronzed skin and dark, almost black brown hair.  On his back, is a black expensive leather messenger bag that slings carelessly on his shoulder like it was meant to hang stylishly.  His entire ensemble looks expensive, trendy age appropriate and custom-fit for a business executive with an edge.  He also looks to be a lot older than a college student and too self-assured to be an intern; I'm thinking he's in his early to mid twenties. Then, as if the fates wheeled in my favor, he turns his head towards my direction.

It's when our eyes meet I felt as if time stopped.

The intensity of our deadlock makes me only aware of the beating of my own heart and my breathing. 

I am also aware that he has stopped in midstride and looks at me with an expression that borders between curiosity, intrigue, and something else indefinable at the moment.

I am faintly aware that I can also hear Jason Derülo's "In My Head" blasting through the speakers of Mercedes' headphones.  I boldly keep staring as he resumes his stance and approaches towards the lobby. His dark hair matches the tanned, angular handsome face is a bit flushed, as if he just jogged a block away to the hotel.  

Suddenly at the back of my mind I start to wonder on whether the tan is a result from staying out in the sun for prolonged periods or is it slight hint of a mixed race somewhere distant down his family tree.  Perhaps mixed Greek and Irish, judging by the shock of black hair that compliments his tan.  I focus on his eyes instead because the thought of him being tan all over is a dangerous distraction.

Even from a distance I can tell you the color of his piercing almond-shaped eyes because that electric blue Carribean sea color is a striking contrast to his angular face.  I can also tell you that he's also physically fit because the suit he's wearing shows off a body that women would love to know what's underneath. My mouth suddenly feels dry as I think how those muscles ripple underneath that long, lean body.  He then leans his head a little with a hint of a smile on his chiseled lips, almost as if he was wondering if we have ever met.  Though I sincerely doubt this particular Adonis would ever be caught dead in a place like Lima, Ohio.

"Quinn!" Santana breaks the deadlock.  "We have to go, Mr. Schue's looking for us.  What are you looking at?"  She checks out the direction where I'm staring but doesn't seem fazed like as if she doesn't notice the gorgeous young dark haired man who made a beeline towards the reception lounge and is now talking to the concierge.

"Nothing." I tell her as I grab my luggage and hull it.  I wait as Schuester goes on and drones about forming a line.  Is this guy for real?  He treats us like a bunch of kindergarten kids.

I give myself a mental shake and scan the lobby again, but the guy I'm looking for is gone.