A/N: Here's one last surprise to close out your birthday month. When we chat next, I'll fill you in on my plan for posting the rest of the chapters. I've worked really hard on this, so I hope you enjoy it! Happy birthday, pretty girl. :)

Disclaimer: Although the fic deviates from the story of Grease at times, there are still plenty of classic scenes, bits of dialogue, and lyrics scattered throughout that are true to the movie. Those belong to the writers and creators of Grease, all I did was take them and adapt them for this piece!

Chapter One: Summer Loving

Rachel Barbra Berry never once imagined that this thought would cross her mind, but sitting by the ocean with a certain blonde lifeguard by her side, she found that she shockingly didn't miss New York.

Had someone told her that this would happen three months ago at the beginning of the summer when her fathers, LeRoy and Hiram, whisked her away to California before her Senior Year of high school started, Rachel would have told them that they were positively bonkers. New York was in Rachel's blood. Her heart beat along to the same rhythm that the city did and had ever since she was a little girl.

New York was where everything that was near and dear to Rachel was located. Her friends, her home, and most importantly Broadway. There was no Rachel Berry without musicals. She had grown up on them, singing before she was talking. "Hello, Dolly," had been her first words, sending her fathers into a tiff about which one of them she had been addressing until they finally realized she had sung the word Dolly not Daddy.

The musical toddler hadn't at all lost the song in her heart as she grew up. If anything, all it did was grow to be louder and more prevalent. The amount of songs Rachel could recall and sing on cue was vast, and she wouldn't have it any other way. It was as if her brain had an infinite capacity for retaining song lyrics. If only it also worked that way with algebraic formulas.

Lolling her head to the side, Rachel peered through dark, shaded lenses at the reason why she hadn't spent her summer begging her fathers to hop on a plane to get back to her hometown. Even through her sunglasses, she found herself fascinated with the beautiful, elegant lines of the blonde's profile. The girl was as gorgeous as she was fun to be around. It had been nearly impossible for Rachel to focus on missing New York when her head had been filled to the brim with thoughts of her.

It had all started when Rachel nearly died.

Okay, maybe that was exaggerating a little, but it had sure felt like it at the time.

After growing tired of all the prodding from her dads to just go and at least try to enjoy California, Rachel had reluctantly made her way down to the closest beach. On its face it seemed that she was acquiescing to their request, but really it was a tiny rebellion on her part.

Rachel knew damn well that LeRoy and Hiram were hoping that she would start to explore California and get suckered into believing that this was actually a good idea, but she wasn't going to give them that satisfaction or risk proving them right. By limiting herself to the beach, she was getting out while still not giving into their devious little plan. To Rachel, California was nothing more than a temporary pitstop on her way back to the bright lights and wonderful music that gave her life and it was going to be treated as such.

Rachel trudged down towards the shore, beach bag hiked up high on her shoulder. The bright pink straps that perfectly matched the frames of her sunglasses and her flip-flops were digging into her flesh, prompting her to walk a little faster. With every step she took, more and more sand wedged itself in between her feet and her shoes, making her wonder why she had even bothered wearing them in the first place. When she first stepped foot on the beach, Rachel had been concerned that grainy sand would end up scratching the hell out of her feet, but quickly found that wasn't the case. So far, she couldn't say very many nice things about California, but even she had to admit that the sand here felt like silk. It was much different than the sand surrounding the lake of the dance camp that Rachel had attended the summer of eighth grade. Between the scratchy sand and the rogue pebble that had wedged itself into her heel, she had been unable to dance for an entire week and had sworn off beachy shores for the rest of eternity. Which, obviously, didn't pan out.

After weaving her way through a handful of beaching families that she hoped to God wouldn't end up being too obnoxious to sit by, Rachel finally settled on a patch of sand to claim as her own. Dropping her bag to the ground, she angled her head down and to the right to survey the damage. As Rachel expected, the straps of her bag had left an unsightly, angry red mark across the expanse of her shoulder. It clashed horribly with her bright green, polkadotted tankini swimsuit.

Rachel's cheeks puffed out, the breath that gathered there releasing itself as sigh seconds later. After kicking off her flip-flops, she reached into her bag and extracted the beach towel Hiram had shoved into her hands on her way out the door. As she shook it out, Rachel quickly realized that she should have taken a better look at the towel before accepting it. Her mouth opened, jaw dropping as she took in the decal decorating its length. It was her father's Duck Dynasty towel.

"Ick," Rachel muttered, releasing all of the fingers holding the damn thing except for her thumbs and forefingers. Duck Dynasty was one of those guilty pleasure shows her father watched that she liked to chastise him for. Duck hunting personally wasn't her cup of tea and would never be. Rachel was the type of gal that loved animals so much, she had sworn off of eating them when she was only 12 and had never turned her back on that promise, unlike the one she had made to stay away from bodies of water and the dirt that surrounded them.

Oh, well. It looked like she'd be spending her day on the beach draped along a camouflaged covered towel that was sporting a duck surfing on a rifle. Not ideal, but she'd rock it regardless. After all, she was Rachel fucking Berry.

Gripping back onto the edge with all of her fingers, Rachel willed herself to shake the towel out forward, lowering it to the ground. As soon as it was situated on the sand, she plopped down, eager to cover up the design the best she could with her body.

Twisting at the waist, she snatched her beach bag and tugged it towards her so that she could find her sunscreen. Rachel's olive skin faired decently well in the sunlight, but she didn't want to tempt fate. If she wasn't careful, she could end up as red as the marking on her shoulder and that simply wouldn't do. During her freshman year of high school, Rachel had let her best friend Lindsey talk her into trying out her mother's brand spanking new tanning bed. Long story short, Rachel still heard the occasional carrot joke as she walked through the hallways of her school and it had been years since the mishap.

Ever since then, Rachel had been particularly careful to take good care of her skin tone, keeping it at a perfect shade of bronze even during the harsh winter months with the help of her local tanning professionals.

Pulling the slender orange bottle from her bag, Rachel tried to press the cap open to no avail. Her fingernail pressed to the ridge in the bottle and an encouraging "come on" left her lips as if she could actually coax the cap into behaving.

Just as her finger slipped right off the cap, startling Rachel to the point that she dropped the sunscreen into her lap, a soft chuckle could be heard in the distance.

Rachel's head shot up, much like that of a meerkat's. Brown eyes narrowed into small slits as she scanned her surroundings, looking for the source of the noise. Surely they weren't laughing at her…

...except they were. It didn't take Rachel long to find the perpetrator.

Perched on top of what appeared to be some sort of makeshift lifeguard stand was the most beautiful blonde that Rachel had ever seen in her life.

Rachel tried not to stare but failed. The blonde was clearly amused by Rachel's little tussle with the sunscreen and made no attempts to hide that. The girl was staring straight at Rachel over the tops of her Ray-Bans with a smirk on her face.

Rachel knew that she should have been infuriated and somewhat embarrassed, but she found that she was more captivated than anything. The white tank top that the blonde wore bearing the word LIFEGUARD in large red letters hung loosely around her torso and revealed thin, perfectly toned arms. Rachel was already picturing her cutting through the waves of the ocean with those strong arms…

"Oh my God, pull yourself together Berry…" Rachel muttered, reminding herself that gawking at a stranger - albeit a breathtaking one - was rude. Also, she tried to remember that she should be feeling indignant, not awestruck. The girl had been laughing at her.

Forcing herself to pull her gaze off of the lifeguard, Rachel picked her bottle of sunscreen up and went to try her luck with the cap again before thinking better of it. Fingers latched around the pesky blue plastic and twisted, removing the cap all together.

'Take that Banana Boat!' the brunette thought triumphantly. A feeling of smugness overcame her as she set the cap down and extended her hand, palm up, before tipping the open bottle towards it.

Banana Boat wasn't done with her, though.

Instead of a reasonable amount making its way onto her palm, half of the fucking bottle discharged into her hand, going everywhere it wasn't supposed to. Large globs of sunscreen slipped through the cracks in between her fingers before landing on her legs and creating dots that matched those decorating her swimsuit.

Rachel's jaw had lowered and she was staring at the sunscreen disaster slightly stunned. If it wasn't for the sound of laughter coming from the distance, she probably would have just sat there and stared at the mess a moment longer.

The blonde wasn't even attempting to stifle her amusement. Rachel tried to resist the urge to look in the lifeguard's direction, but failed horribly. Brown eyes narrowed and followed the sound of the melodic laughter before landing on the blonde. Rachel knew that her pink sunglasses were seriously impeding her glare, but there wasn't much she could do about it at the moment. After all, one hand was still dripping with sunscreen and the other was clutched tightly around the offensive bottle that had caused this disaster in the first place. Rachel knew she should set it down, but the irrational part of her was fearful of moving it at all and chance the rest of its contents escaping.

A few seconds later, Rachel's focus shifted and she found that she was now grateful for the sunglasses shielding her eyes. The brunette could feel her glare softening and was happy that the lifeguard had no idea that she was now busy checking out the defined lines of her calves instead of her face. God, how did she get them that toned? Yoga? Maybe Pilates? Or perhaps good old-fashioned running? Rachel shivered at the thought. Running was the absolute worst.

Wanting to convey at least an ounce of disapproval, Rachel set her lips into a thin line before turning her attention back to the mess in front of her. Stay calm, Rachel. No need to get all into a tizzy over some sunscreen. This moment can be salvaged. You can get the last laugh.

Carefully setting the bottle down next to her thigh, Rachel reached for the cap that she had removed earlier and placed it on the top, waiting until she felt the grooves line up before twisting it back into place. There. That was easy. Now to figure out what to do with all of this goddamn sunscreen.

Deciding to play it cool, Rachel lifted her head up and straightened her back. Pressing her hands together, she rubbed the sunscreen around spreading it out across her palms and fingers as if this had always been her plan.

Pressing one hand to the curvature of her bicep, Rachel began to slowly work her way up and down her arm and shoulder, massaging the sunscreen into skin which happily absorbed it. The brunette purposely made a show of the entire occurrence, lathering up one arm and then the other with deliberate and purposeful movements. It occurred to Rachel that she probably looked as if she belonged on a commercial for Banana Boatproducts. Then realized that wouldn't be the worst idea in the world. The sunscreen company would be lucky to have her. One commercial with Rachel Berry and they'd be selling their product by the gallons.

Rachel used whatever traces of sunscreen that hadn't soaked into the skin of her arms to lather up her neck and the parts of her chest and upper back that were exposed. After her hands were bare, she turned her attention to her legs. Pressing her palms against the splattered sunscreen as if this had been her intention all along, Rachel brushed her hands down the length of her thighs, stopping right before her knees. There was the distinct lack of laughter coming from the blonde's direction. Tilting her head to the side, Rachel attempted to surreptitiously peer in the lifeguard's direction to see if she was getting the desired effect.

Bingo.

The blonde's gaze was still focused over the top of her sunglasses in Rachel's direction and her body was completely still, like a statute. Pearly white teeth had sunken into the skin of her bottom lip. Rachel could have been mistaken due to the distance between them, but it appeared as if her eyes had darkened.

Rachel had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning. Turning her attention back to her legs, she finished up coating her skin with the protective lotion before deciding on a ceasefire. That had been enough public exhibition for a lifetime.

Laying back against the length of her father's towel, Rachel closed her eyes and reflected on the last few moments. That had been entirely out of character for her. The one area of her life where she was the most modest had always been when it came to her body. Rachel was of the belief that it was better to leave as much to the imagination as possible. Realizing that she had star potential at a young age, her fathers had always stressed the importance of being careful about how she portrayed herself. This had translated into Rachel being fairly chaste in her interactions with those she was attracted to.

Except this time, apparently. Rachel didn't even know the girl's name who she had put on a whole little beach show for, but she didn't feel at all bad about it. Oddly exhilarated, but not bad. Plus, what happened in California could stay in California.

~ooooooo~

"Come here often?"

Rachel's cheek was pressed up against her forearm, eyes closed as an unfamiliar voice spoke to her. After tanning her one side for about an hour, she had flipped over to make sure that her coloring stayed even. If the day ended with her looking like a lobster, well then Rachel wanted to be a consistent lobster.

A single lazy brown eye opened up to see the source of the noise. A bronzed Adonis was crouching down and looming over her. Blocking her damn sun.

You're barking up the wrong tree was what Rachel wanted to say, but the manners that had been instilled in her over the years prevented her from doing so.

Opening up her other eye as well, Rachel gave the boy a small, polite smile, not bothering to lift her head up from its cozy position against her arms.

"I'm not from around here," she replied sweetly. The upper half of her body that he was blocking the sun from was beginning to get a little cold and Rachel wished that he would move.

"I could show you around, you know." The boy's voice was eager and Rachel wondered if he was aware that he wasn't employing even a modicum of tact. Didn't he realize that you couldn't ask a girl to let you show her around town when not even ten words had been shared prior to the question? That sort of brazen, clumsy maneuver wouldn't have worked on Rachel Berry even if she was into men.

"I'm sorry, I'm not really interested," Rachel admitted honestly, figuring that it was the fastest way to go about ending the conversation so that she could get back to sunbathing. Plus, lies never seemed to really sit right on her tongue. The most she ever seemed to be able to accomplish whenever she attempted to be dishonest was a white lie or a half-truth. Honesty was the best policy.

Or so Rachel thought.

It was crazy how quickly the boy's features changed. Kind, inviting features quickly twisted into a display of indignation and surprise. Rachel guessed that he had never been turned down before.

"Are you sure about that?" the boy asked, clearly puzzled and a little bit offended.

"I'm sure," Rachel assured, resisting the urge to roll her eyes from behind her sunglasses. Even though they were shaded, she knew the boy was close enough to spot the movement even from behind her darkened lenses. Rachel wasn't trying to destroy this poor California boy's ego; she was simply attempting to get her fucking sunlight back. "Thank you so much for offering, though, that was really kind of you," Rachel tacked on, wanting to soften the blow of her decline a bit.

Much to her dismay, it didn't work. The boy looked even more taken aback by Rachel's words and she wondered how their wires had gotten crossed. Didn't he realize she was being generous? There were ten million other ways that she could have turned him down, none of them as nice as the way she had chosen.

"Your loss," the boy chastised, finally standing up. Rachel could feel the sun hitting her in certain spots as its rays made their way around his limbs. A contented sigh left her lips at the feeling of warmth. It almost felt nice enough to make her forget how rude his tone had just been. Almost.

Rachel didn't reply because she had been taught that, if she had nothing nice to say, to say nothing. Another sigh escaped her as her eyes began to flutter closed.

Just before her lids actually finished their path downwards, Rachel spotted something in the corner of her eye that erased any and all traces of peaceful bliss that the sun's rays provided her with. The boy that she rejected had just taken it upon himself to steal her flip-flops and was running off towards the water with them. That little shit.

"HEY!" Rachel yelled out, scrambling to get to her feet. Her legs were lazy and her mind was moving faster than her body was willing to, causing her movements to come across as gawky and awkward. Rachel didn't care, though. Being graceful wasn't exactly her number one concern when some asshole was trying to escape with her favorite fucking pair of flip-flops.

Before Rachel could manage to catch up with him, the boy made it to the water's edge. The heels of his feet dug deep trenches in the packed, damp sand as he came to a stop. Looking back at a flustered, scrambling Rachel first, the boy then gave her a wicked grin and then turned towards the ocean, launching her shoes into its waves one by one.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" Rachel exclaimed as she came to a stop herself, watching helplessly as her shoes landed in the water, far away from the sandy shore. Rachel hadn't realized that, earlier, when she thought of the boy as being an Adonis that he also had the ungodly strength that came along with the title.

A litany of curse words ran through Rachel's mind, none of them actually emerging from her mouth. Her fathers had taught her better. Rachel's thoughts were always ten times more colorful than what she actually said. Normally, she enjoyed being on her best behavior.

Except right now. Right now she wanted to curse up a storm, retrieve her flip-flops, and shove them down the boy's smirking mouth. Fuck being a lady.

Leveling a seething glare in the boy's direction, Rachel drew in a deep breath through her nose to compose herself and uttered a level sounding, "Fudge off."

The boy tilted his head, looking at her questioningly. "Fudge?" she heard him ask. Rachel didn't pay him any mind, though. She had shoes to retrieve.

Rolling her shoulders back and straightening out her spine, Rachel confidently strode into the water, heading in the direction of her shoes. In the distance, she could see two hot pink discs being tossed around by the water's waves. Squinting, she tried to gauge if they were floating farther away from her. Fuck. They were. Time to hustle.

Giving up her calm, cool, and collected façade, Rachel picked up the pace, trudging through the water. As she moved forward, the crest of the waves that were hitting her started reaching higher and higher up on her body. Every time she took a step, it seemed like her flip-flops would move even further out of reach. It was incredibly infuriating.

It felt like an eternity before Rachel was able to get close enough to even attempt to grab her shoes. It had been tempting to give up and leave them there, but Rachel Berry wasn't a quitter.

The water came up to her chest now and her feet just barely grazed along the sand at the bottom of the ocean. Occasionally she felt an unidentified object brush against her skin and every single time it happened she'd have to try and convince herself it was nothing but kelp. How had she managed to forget her irrational fear of sharks before brazenly trekking into the depths of the ocean? If she ended up getting eaten by a fucking shark because of that asshole who couldn't take rejection, she was going to be pissed. Dead, but pissed. Rachel would haunt his ass for the rest of her days. Yeah. That worked. Vengeance would look good on Ghost Rachel.

Except Rachel didn't really want to die. After all, she hadn't yet gotten the chance to grace a Broadway stage with her presence. The world deserved to hear her sing someday.

Now that she was close enough to at least attempt to retrieve her flip-flops, Rachel reached out to try and snatch the one closest to her. The shoe was bobbing up and down in the water, but by some miracle Rachel was able to hook her finger into the bright pink strap that she usually slid her foot into.

"A-HA!" she proclaimed brightly, holding the shoe up high into the air as a display of the triumph she felt. Rachel was on top of the world in that moment. Nothing could hold her back.

Or so she thought.

Taking a step forward, Rachel lowered her hand and tried to move towards the matching shoe. Before her toes even hit the sand, a sharp, searing pain shot up the length of her calf, causing her to yelp. Rachel could feel a familiar tightening in her leg and her mind registered what was happening immediately. It was the same thing that happened to her every time she was low on potassium but high on exertion. A fucking Charley horse.

The cramp that was quickly taking over every inch of her right leg below the knee was so painful and jarring that Rachel dropped the shoe she had been holding. All thoughts of her flip-flops were forgotten as she instinctively reached down to try and soothe the aching, throbbing muscle. Rachel's cheeks filled with air as she prepared to dip her head below the water's surface, but before she could accomplish that feat a wave much stronger than its predecessors knocked into her, cresting over her head. All of the oxygen in her slender body was forcefully knocked out of her as she stumbled to the side, completely losing her balance. Before Rachel knew what was happening, she was all turned around. She didn't know which way was up, which way was down, or why the fuck she was here in the first place. This never would have happened if she wasn't in California. Golden State, my ass.

The waves came more steadily now, preventing Rachel from getting her bearings. The brunette's arms flailed wildly in the restless water, her feet trying to get some sort of hold on the ground below. Every time she tried to stretch out her cramping leg, a new burst of pain would shoot up her body, causing her to cry out.

"HELP!" Rachel managed to croak out just before another wave crashed into her, undoing any semblance of progress that she was desperately attempting to hold onto. Rational thought and hope were beginning to abandon her, leaving her in a pure state of panic. This was it. This was the end. Rachel Berry was going to meet her demise on the sunny shores of California and it was all her dads' fault. Rachel wondered if she would be able to figure out the mechanics of sending a message from the great beyond to her fathers because she would really love to tell them I fucking told you so. Curse word and all because Ghost Rachel didn't give a flying fuck about manners.

Relegating herself to her fate, Rachel whimpered and simply tried to keep her head bobbing above the water when two strong, unexpected arms bored their way underneath her own arms, wrapping around her torso. Rachel was delirious and her vision was blurry thanks to the salt water that had not only knocked off her sunglasses, but had filled her eyes, so she couldn't see anything other than the sunny, blue skies above her head. She allowed the protective arms to drag her away from the precarious waves, meekly kicking the foot that wasn't suffering from a gnarly cramp as her way of "helping" her savior. Perhaps it was the mean-spirited Adonis who was helping her. It was altogether possible that he had realized that he didn't want a death on his hands. Except the arms didn't feel as big as his had looked. They felt strong, but not large. They kinda fit around Rachel perfectly, as if they belonged there.

Once her head was free and clear from the ocean, Rachel sputtered, spitting all traces of water from her mouth that didn't belong there. It wasn't the most attractive sight in the world, she was sure, but who cared about being cute when you almost fucking died?

But then the strong arms shifted, scooping Rachel up into them so she didn't have to deal with the ocean at all anymore. Rachel's arms instinctively looped their way around the Good Samaritan's neck, her eyes blinking rapidly to clear them as a familiar, beautiful face swam into focus. Near death experience or not, Rachel suddenly cared again about looking cute. There was still some salt water in her mouth, but Rachel swallowed it back instead of attempting to spit it out. She didn't even mind the scratchy feel it left in her throat because she was too busy getting lost in determined hazel eyes that she hadn't gotten a good look at earlier.

Way too soon for Rachel's liking, the lifeguard got her back to the beach and headed right for the set-up that the brunette had abandoned during her mission to retrieve her flip-flops. Rachel was then splayed out across her father's towel and she didn't even bother trying to resist. Loosening her grip on the blonde, she relaxed all of her muscles. Even her traitor leg wasn't as tense as it had been. It still ached, but Rachel was able to extend it more than she had been able to in the water.

"Are you okay?" the blonde asked, pulling Rachel's attention back up to her face. Concerned hazel eyes stared at her and Rachel briefly wondered where the lifeguard's Ray-Bans had gone before realizing that they were situated at the top of her head. The blonde looked surprisingly put together considered the rescue attempt she had just heroically staged. Rachel knew the same couldn't be said about herself. She could tell that her thick mane of hair was clinging to her face in unsightly, thick bands. Reaching up, Rachel attempted to brush some of those away from her cheeks, suddenly self-conscious.

"I'm okay," Rachel assured, her voice coming out a lot raspier than usual. Clearing her throat, she tried to speak again, hoping that she wouldn't sound like a frog this time. "Thanks to you."

A smile skittered across the blonde's lips. Or at least that's what Rachel thought she saw. It was only there for a second or two and she wasn't entirely convinced she hadn't hallucinated it. Rachel was sure that was a normal side effect of nearly drowning.

"I didn't do much," the lifeguard insisted, eyeing Rachel carefully as if she were looking for any sign that she wasn't as okay as she was insisting. Rachel could tell that the rays of the sun were already managing to dry her short, choppy blonde hair. It framed her face nicely, stopping just above her shoulders.

The shirt she was wearing wasn't have the same luck with the drying process. Rachel's eyes dropped and took in the way the soaked through white tank clung to the blonde's six pack abs. Holy shit. This girl was toned all over. Why she hadn't bothered to rid herself of the tank all together before heading out into the water, Rachel didn't know, but she supposed that she was grateful the girl hadn't stopped for those few seconds when her life had been at stake.

"You saved my life," Rachel insisted seriously, forcing herself to look back up. Eyes, Rachel, eyes. It's improper to have your gaze linger anywhere else.

The blonde chuckled ruefully, head shaking. "I don't know if I would go that far… I mean, the waves were a little rough, but I don't think you would have died."

Rachel shook her head back at the lifeguard, wishing that she had the energy to protest vehemently. Okay, perhaps everything would have worked its way out eventually, but it sure hadn't felt that way at the time. Rachel was well aware that she had completely panicked and had practically given herself over to the sea prior to be rescued.

"What's your name?" Rachel blurted out, realizing that she didn't even have the proper moniker to thank the girl with.

The blonde stopped her full body scan of Rachel, which was good because it was making her cheeks burn. Their eyes met.

"Wanna know a secret?" the lifeguard whispered.

Rachel nodded solemnly. She wanted to know anything this girl was willing to tell her.

"My real name is Lucy, which not a lot of people know or remember, but… I prefer to go by my middle name, which is Quinn."

"Quinn," Rachel repeated slowly with a smile. "I like that."

"I showed you mine, are you gonna show me yours?" Quinn asked, a brow lifting with her question. Rachel could feel her cheeks flushing even more, though she wasn't sure why. All Quinn was asking for was her name. Pull it together, woman.

"R-Rachel," she offered up, stumbling over her own damn name under the intensity of Quinn's hazel gaze. The beauty that was in front of her suddenly had Rachel questioning whether or not she truly made it out of the water. Was she in Heaven? Was this what an angel looked like? Most importantly, did Heaven have its own version of Broadway?

"R-Rachel," Quinn repeated, purposefully including the little stutter that had snuck its way in there. "Two Rs?" she asked. This time the small smile of amusement that found her lips was unmistakable. The corners of her mouth quirked upwards and Rachel was left wondering if she was joking or not.

"Just one R," she corrected, wanting to play it safe.

"I was just teasing you, Rach," the blonde said easily, surveying Rachel's body once more. Rachel squirmed a little under her gaze, but winced as soon as she moved her sore leg. The Charley horse had faded, leaving her to deal with the obnoxious aftermath for the foreseeable future.

Hazel eyes immediately darted back to her face. Quinn didn't miss a thing.

"Are you hurt?" the blonde asked. The concern in her voice sounded genuine and Rachel wondered if that was just who Quinn was as a person or if it was her lifeguard side kicking in.

"No, no, I'm fine," Rachel insisted, head shaking. "My pesky leg hurts, but that isn't the ocean's fault. I, um, got a Charley horse when I was out there… Hence, the flailing and the almost dying, etcetera…"

A ghost of a grin found Quinn's lips, but she didn't argue with Rachel over the almost dying thing this time.

"Those suck," the blonde said bluntly, her gaze shifting over to Rachel's legs. "Which leg was it?"

Rachel looked at Quinn questioningly, but pointed to the offensive limb. "This one." Fucker.

Much to Rachel's surprise, Quinn reached out for her tense calf. Slender, strong fingers curled around the muscle and began to message at it. Rachel had to bite her damn lip to keep from making a noise at how good it felt. Surely this was Heaven because Quinn's touch was magical.

"I used to get these all the time until bananas and I became fast friends," Quinn explained, fingers still working at Rachel's leg. All Rachel could do was nod, her head moving in what felt like slow-motion. How could this feel so good? Had Rachel been missing out all of these years? Clearly. No wonder people raved about massages, they felt glorious. Or at least Quinn's did.

"Bananas…" Rachel repeated, her mind working to catch up with the conversation. It was hard considering how damn distracting Quinn's fingers were. "Oh, right! The potassium!"

Quinn chuckled, nodding. "You got it, Champ."

Champ. Rachel had never been called that before but found that she didn't mind the name. She had a sneaking suspicion Quinn could call her almost anything and she'd be okay with it.

"Feeling any better?"

Rachel reluctantly nodded, honesty winning out over her desire to have Quinn keep massaging at her leg. Who knew a Charley horse and a near-death experience could turn out to be such a good thing?

"Much better," Rachel affirmed, smiling up at Quinn. Winking, the lifeguard released her leg and then seemed to spot something that caught her eye. The intent way she started staring unsettled Rachel and left her wondering what she could possibly be looking at. Quinn's gaze seemed to be directed in the general direction of where her tankini top met her bottoms, which had Rachel blushing all over again.

"Duck Dynasty, huh?"

Okay, so she wasn't checking Rachel out. Just the towel. Fucking Duck Dynasty. Rachel was never borrowing anything from her fathers ever again.

"It belongs to one of my dads," Rachel hurriedly explained, not wanting to take credit for the hideous design she was currently draped over. "It was handed over and silly me didn't check it before actually using it. I am not at all a fan of the show. Or hunting. I believe pretty strongly in animal rights actually. I have for a long time. You see, I'm actually a vegan…"

Oh dear Lord, Rachel. Stop. Please stop. Rein it in. Verbal diarrhea is not attractive.

Before Rachel could dig her hole any deeper and launch into a full-blown story about how she decided to go vegan, Quinn interjected and saved her from herself.

"Are vegans allowed to eat out?"

Quinn's eyes were gleaming and Rachel wasn't sure if she was teasing her again or not. Regardless, she eagerly nodded in response to the question.

Quinn chuckled, a grin spreading on her lips. "Okay, then you're coming out to eat with me. Tonight. 7 o'clock."

It was a statement, not a question, but surprisingly Rachel didn't mind. It was hard to feel any type of way about Quinn's smug bluntness when Rachel was too busy trying to contain the squeal of delight that threatened to escape her. It took every ounce of her self-control not to viscerally react to the declaration that they would be hanging out that very night. Suddenly, California didn't seem all that bad.

Before Rachel could even gather up the mental faculties needed to respond to Quinn's quasi-invitation, the blonde in question was already standing up and flicking her sunglasses back down so that hazel eyes were shielded once again. Quinn strode off, leaving Rachel stuck in the position of simultaneously admiring how the muscles in her legs looked in motion and wondering if she truly was conscious for this entire thing. Rachel reached over and pinched herself in the arm to help assure that this really wasn't nothing more than a very realistic dream sequence.

Just as Quinn reached the lifeguard tower, a thought managed to make its way to the forefront of Rachel's hazy mind.

"WAIT!" she called out, probably attracting the attention of half the beach. Rachel didn't care, though. She was too busy pushing herself up into a sitting position. A hand lifted so that she could shield her eyes from the sun since her shades had been lost to the ocean. "I don't have your number!"

Even with the distance between them, Rachel could see the grin on Quinn's lips spread.

"You know where to find me!" the blonde called back. Rachel had no way of being certain, but she could practically feel the wink Quinn was giving her.

The entire plan was a lot less concrete than Rachel normally liked, but she was determined to roll with it. It surprised her. After all, she was the type of gal who liked to schedule everything out and have all her ducks in a row. It would normally have driven her crazy that all she had by way of a plan for her night was a time, a person, and a vague idea of where to meet up with them. However, Rachel felt content.

When Rachel laid back down on her towel, too tired to even consider leaving the beach right then, she had the hugest smile on her face. Going to the beach hadn't been the worst idea in the world, but she would never tell her fathers that. It would be her little secret.

~ooooooo~

All of this was what led Rachel to sitting on the beach by Quinn's side, not at all missing New York. It had quickly become a part of her daily routine, but she wouldn't have it any other way. The feeling was bittersweet, though. Today was Rachel's last day in California. Her fathers had already begun packing up their belongings in preparation of their impending flight home. Rachel, being the strong minded individual that she was, had rebelled against that, not packing a single item yet. She knew that she would regret it in the morning, when she was stuck frantically shoving her things into suitcases, hoping that she wasn't accidentally leaving anything behind. It was a consequence she was willing to deal with if it meant putting off the reality of her situation for one more night.

Rachel wasn't ready to leave Quinn or California behind. Both had grown on her, even though the latter took a little while longer. It was through Quinn's eyes that Rachel grew to love the state that she was in, despite its distance from the one city she'd always hold dear in her heart. Even the idea of having to say goodbye made her a little teary eyed whenever she would think of it. Which was why Rachel was determinedly not thinking of it. Not yet.

Quinn, of course, had already asked her out on a date for their last evening together. Rachel hadn't even bothered to flirtatiously hesitate. Her acceptance came quickly, along with a silent vow to commit every second to memory. Rachel already knew that she'd be stuck replaying their summer together in her mind over and over again. This was a fate she had resigned herself to, considering how aware she was of her tendency to fixate on the things that made her happy. And Quinn made her incredibly happy.

Rachel rolled her head back so that her gaze wasn't focused on Quinn anymore. A hand reached up, adjusting the sunglasses that Quinn had bought her to replace the ones that had been lost forever. The frames weren't the bright pink that she usually gravitated towards, but Rachel was okay with it considering that, instead, they were a hue that matched Quinn's hazel eyes. It was a token of their summer together and one that she would always cherish.

That feeling of sadness that had been nipping at her heels all week long began to resurface, but Rachel drew in a slow, subtle, comforting breath through her nose and willed away the negative emotions. For now, as far as she was concerned, she had nothing to fret about other than making sure she soaked up enough of the sun's rays. And deciding on a dress to wear that night for her date.

Everything else could wait.