Author's Note: It's here! The update you've all been waiting for is finally here!

I've got way more to say, but I know you're all dying to see what happens next, so I'll let you read and talk more later. Enjoy!

Chapter Five

"Tell me again why you're spending so much time getting ready for this, Rach?" Amanda asks, sprawled out across Rachel's bed, which is half buried in discarded clothes. A half-empty bottle of wine sits on the tiny table by her bed – the only surface of the room not covered in clothes – and Amanda holds a long-stemmed glass full of the deep red liquid in her hands, while another one stands next to the bottle. "I thought you didn't like this guy."

"Exactly," Rachel says, taking a gulp from her wineglass. "I can't wear something too date-like, or he'll get the wrong idea, but if I wear sweats or something, he might think I want to stay the night. Plus, we're going to be working together, so I have to look nice and professional, but not sexy. And I don't know how long this is going to take, so I have to factor in temperature when I leave his place, and–"

"Whoa there, girl," Amanda says, holding up one hand. "Slow down. No more wine for you, that's for sure." She takes Rachel's glass and puts it back by the bottle. "If you really don't want to give him the wrong idea, showing up half-drunk is not the way to go. Besides, you're singing; can't risk your voice."

"You're right. What was I thinking?" Rachel sighs, and pushes aside a few crumpled tops piled on her bed to make space to sit down next to Amanda. "I just… this is the first time I'll be spending a long period of time alone with him since we were a couple. Even at graduation, there were lots of other people around. I just… I don't know what to do."

Rachel feels Amanda's fingers gently stroking her hair. "It's okay to be nervous, Ray," she says. "But realistically, you have to learn how to be alone with him soon. After all, your star-making Broadway role involves pretending to be in love with him eight times a week."

"I know, I know, I know all that," Rachel insists, turning around to face Amanda. "But I don't think I'm ready."

"Well, you have to be. The sooner you can get over whatever happened between the two of you and move on so you can do this show, the better." A mischievous smile spreads across Amanda's face. "Or if that doesn't work, you could always just pretend he's gay."

Rachel bursts into laughter, and so does Amanda. "He did always wear too much hair gel," she finally gets out, which only sets the two off into more peals of laughter.

When they can finally stop laughing long enough to compose themselves, Rachel sighs and stands up, surveying the giant mess that's become her room. She clucks her tongue. "I can't believe I emptied my entire closet trying to figure out what to wear."

"Here," Amanda says, picking up a dark blue top off the top of a pile near the door. "Wear this. And–" she scoops up a pile of accessories "try these too."

"If you say so." Clothes in hand, Rachel heads for the bathroom. (Even though she and Amanda are practically like sisters, she still feels uncomfortable changing in front of… anyone, really.) Just as her hand hovers over the doorknob, she turns around. "Amanda? Thank you. For everything."

"No problem, Rachel. What are friends for?" She smiles, and reaches across the table to pour herself more wine.

As she strips off her yoga pants and tries on the outfit Amanda picked out, Rachel thinks about when they first met, four years ago during freshman orientation. Amanda was from California – nowhere near as backwoods as Ohio, but a definite culture shock to New York. Like Rachel, she had a voice scholarship to Tisch, although Amanda was more interested in going the pop star route than being on Broadway. She actually played guitar and wrote several songs on her own. And, of course, it didn't hurt that she was absolutely stunning. She actually looked a lot like Santana, so much so that Rachel did a double take when she first saw her across the quad, thinking the bitchy former cheerleader was in New York. Unlike Santana, though, she had a heart of gold, and had helped Rachel through more than a few crises during their years at NYU. After graduation, during their post-graduation party blitz through NYC's best clubs, one of them – to this day, they still couldn't agree on who it was, considering they were both several cocktails in – suggested they get an apartment together, so they could both afford the rent on their piddly savings.

Rachel smiles just thinking about it. Amanda had become her Quinn 2.0, the person she called first with good news and ran to for help whenever she was in trouble. Although now if Quinn was going to be moving to New York, she'd have them both within reach – Quinn and Quinn 2.0. The thought makes her laugh, and she realizes just how much wine she's imbibed. (Her tiny frame always made her a lightweight; almost everyone has taken a turn holding back her hair after she's downed too many shots of vodka or apple martinis).

"Come on, Rach, you're not that drunk yet. Show me, show me!" Amanda's voice breaks her train of thought, and she hastily adjusts the neckline of the top before she opens the door.

The dark-haired girl is waiting by the bathroom door, her wineglass refilled and in her hands. "Oh yeah, who's the best? That's right, it's me!" she chirps in a wine-tinged voice, flipping her hair off her shoulders and appraising Rachel proudly.

"Easy on the vino, Amanda," Rachel laughs, picking her way through the giant mess that's become her room to the full-length mirror on the other wall. "Although I do admit, this is really nice." The dark blue top is long and simple, floating just over the tops of her thighs, with a low V-neck – countered by a black camisole, at Rachel's insistence – and short sleeves. With black skinny jeans and ballet flats, the entire package is very sophisticated and stylish with a hint of preppy – classic Rachel-in-New-York style.

"Did I tell you or did I tell you? And here – the finishing touch." She drapes a necklace over Rachel's collarbone. The brunette reaches up and feels a music note pendant hanging off the slim silver chain, the note heads shaped like little hearts and covered with tiny crystals. Instantly, she freezes.

"No – I'm not wearing this."

"Why not? It's so cute." Still sipping from her glass, Amanda has returned to lying on Rachel's bed.

"Jesse bought that for me. If I wear it, he'll think I kept it because I'm still in love with him or something."

"Why did you keep it, then?"

"Because it's cute and it was expensive and I never thought I'd see him again, so it wouldn't matter!" Angrily, she searches through her jewelry box for another necklace, her fingers stopping on something gold with a nameplate buried at the bottom. "This. I'm wearing this." Hurriedly, she fastens the clasp.

Amanda raises an eyebrow. "Why do you still have that?"

"I really don't know, but it'll serve its purpose tonight." She runs her fingers along the thin cursive script that reads FINN. "Once Jesse sees me wearing this, he'll back off for sure."

Amanda sighs and shakes her head. "You're playing with fire, not telling Jesse the truth about Finn."

"Stop telling me that." Rachel grabs her abandoned wineglass and swallows the rest of the deep red liquid, ignoring Amanda's disapproving stare behind her back. "What time is it?"

"Six thirty. Where does Jesse live again?"

"He gave me the address at rehearsal – it's not far." Rachel picks up her eyeliner and starts to paint on a thin line around her lashes.

"Do you have money for a cab?"

"Yes, Mom." Amanda rolls her eyes, as Rachel applies a coat of mascara.

After slicking on some lip gloss, Rachel runs her fingers through her hair a couple times, then grabs her new black belted peacoat off the back of her desk chair. "Have fun!" Amanda yells semi-sarcastically, as she heads through the rest of the tiny apartment to the front door. "Don't stay out too late!"

The biting cold wind hits her like a slap in the face the second she steps outside. Rachel shivers as she searches through her purse for the money for a cab. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on what point of view you look at it from), it's not too busy (for New York), so it doesn't take long for her to hail one. As she settles down in the semi-warm backseat, for the first time that night it hits her what she's about to do.

Rachel doesn't necessarily consider herself a non-religious person – she observes all the holidays and had her bat mitzvah when she was thirteen and goes to synagogue when she can. Still, it's been a long time since she's really, truly prayed – outside of prayers for holidays and such – and it feels sort of cheap to be doing it now. But at this point, she doesn't see many other options besides prayer.

God, if you're listening – I'm sorry it's come to this, that I'm only praying to you now because I need something, but if you can grant me this one little thing, I promise I will pray regularly like I should have been doing all along. Please let me survive the next few hours with my Satan-spawn of an ex. Please?

Rachel doesn't quite know what she'd expected out of Jesse's apartment. She'd never seen his house during the short few months they'd dated in high school, or even his uncle's condo. Given that he went to Carmel and graduated from UCLA, she knew his family had to be pretty well off, but what counted as rich in Ohio was quite another thing entirely in New York.

Whatever her expectations were, though, they were definitely not this.

"You're here," is the first thing he says when he opens the door, stammering like an idiot. It makes her feel better, knowing that she's not the only one who's nervous about this. Taking off her coat, she cautiously steps into the apartment, barely able to keep her mouth closed as she takes it all in.

Jesse lives on Spring Street in Soho, which is a very nice neighborhood, and expensive. The one-bedroom apartment would've been on the small side for anywhere else, but for New York, it was incredibly spacious. He has a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen area with reasonably-well-cared-for-looking appliances, dining nook with a little table and chairs, and small living room-looking space with a couch, armchair, and coffee table. There's another door, next to the bathroom, that's closed; she wonders what on Earth could be behind it.

The color scheme is very Jesse – lots of black and gray, leather furniture, chrome tables, silver lighting fixtures. There are a few silver-framed photographs on the walls, and a beautiful painting of a New York City skyline hanging next to a cool clock (that looks almost more like a piece of artwork than a timepiece) in the dining nook, but other than that, the décor is pretty much nonexistent. It's undoubtedly a gorgeous place, but doesn't feel very lived-in. That fact doesn't surprise her all that much, considering it's Jesse they're talking about.

"Are you hungry? I ordered in. New York City Chinese is notoriously crap, but I found a good place that does takeout not far from here." Rachel thinks she likes this new version of him – nervous, fumbling, a bit like a puppy dog waiting for a treat. At the very least, it's easier to deal with than his normal suave, cocky, arrogant persona.

She's tempted to reject his offer of food, just to watch him try and recover, but a tiny rumble in her stomach reminds her that she hasn't ingested anything other than wine since lunchtime. Something to soak up all that alcohol before singing would be a good idea. So she nods and lets him 'show her' to the dining room.

Plates are already set out, with slices of meat and some noodles on one and a vegetable dish over rice on the other. He motions her towards the one with the vegetables and rice, and she's surprised to see her favorite tofu and vegetable stir-fry dish from high school.

He's got some memory, she thinks, delicately spearing a piece of carrot. First the coffee, now this. Does he think bringing me back down Memory Lane will somehow make me forget all the crap he did to me?

Regardless, she's hungry and there's food, so she tucks in, a little less vigorously than she might've if it were one of her girlfriends she was eating with. He returns from the kitchen with a brown bottle in one hand and a can of orange soda in the other, placing the soda in front of her. As much as she would kill for a beer right now, she resists the urge to ask for one, remembering the wine, and sips the soda gratefully.

They eat in silence for several moments, the delicate clink of the silverware the only sound in the quiet room. Finally, Jesse sets down his beer and looks at her across the table. "This is ridiculous," he declares.

"What is?" She plays dumb, trying to see just how far he's willing to take this.

"We dated back in high school. That was seven years ago. Regardless of anything else, it's ridiculous that we can't be in the same room and make polite conversation. We've both grown up since then; I don't think it's unreasonable to expect us to act like adults about this. Especially considering we'll be working together quite closely for the next year."

Feeling like he's turned the tables on her, she bites her tongue, then, after a moment, responds. "I see your point. It would be rather difficult to maintain a professional working relationship if we're incapable of even making small talk."

"So then, continuing along that path, how was your day?" He swallows a bite of his steak, a whisper of a smirk on his lips, like he's celebrating a victory.

They make mindless small talk for a while, as the food slowly disappears. Finally, after Jesse returns from the kitchen with a plate of sliced oranges and fortune cookies – Rachel never letting on her surprise and delight that he's remembered another one of her favorite things from high school – he brings up the real reason she's there tonight: the music.

"As with any Broadway show, there's quite a bit of music. Hello, I Love You is odd in that there are relatively few ensemble songs; most of them are duets or solos. That, of course, cuts down rehearsals significantly without the extra time of needing to practice with the entire ensemble cast, but it also means puts more pressure on the shoulders of the main characters, for they are truly running the show. There's going to be a lot of work involved in the next several months, and I wouldn't be surprised if this sort of thing becomes regular." She nods, not truly processing his words until he's already off and running again. "You've read through the script, right? Gotten a feel for the characters? While I get first billing on the Playbill, your character Chloe is the real heart of the play. The story is all about her – her struggles and triumphs, love and loss; every emotion she goes through is central to the story. And, of course, you have twice as many duets to sing, since the story revolves around the love triangle." She can swear his lips purse slightly here, but they return to normal before she can be sure of anything.

He stands up and turns towards the doors. "Where are you going?"

"You didn't honestly think we were going to rehearse without a piano, did you?" Wordlessly, she follows him towards the third, closed door, which opens to reveal a tiny room barely bigger than the dining nook. Unlike the rest of the apartment, it's plain and unfurnished – white walls, hardwood floors, no real décor. This room isn't for socializing or living, she quickly realizes, taking in the stacks of CDs, the bookshelf full of piano books and lyrics, and the keyboard pressed up against the far wall; this is Jesse's rehearsal space.

He walks over to the keyboard and sits down at the black folding chair. There's space on top of the keyboard to hold music, and already papers are strewn across it, which he gathers up and holds out to her. "I thought we'd start with Chloe and Brandon's second duet from the first act. No need to bother working on Hello, after all." He flashes her that signature St. James cocky grin, and she resists the urge to roll her eyes, staring down at the music instead. Her heart leaps as her eyes scan the lyrics quickly.

Though they've only got the vocal score, he starts out with the piano accompaniment, his fingers flying across the keys swiftly and surely. She waits the requisite five measures as he plays, before coming in at her cue.

Picture perfect memories

Scattered all around the floor

Reaching for the phone 'cuz

I can't fight it anymore

"And I wonder if I ever cross your mind." Her voice wavers slightly as the sound of his harmony meets her ears. It's truly amazing, how well their voices fit together, and after so much time…

"For me it happens all the time."

It's a quarter after one

I'm all alone and I need you now

Said I wouldn't call

But I lost all control and I need you now

And I don't know how I can do without…

I just need you now

Another shot of whiskey

Can't stop looking at the door

Wishing you'd come sweeping in

The way you did before

And I wonder if I ever cross your mind

For me it happens all the time

It's a quarter after one

I'm a little drunk and I need you now

Said I wouldn't call

But I lost all control and I need you now

And I don't know how I can do without…

I just need you now

Yes I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all…

It's a quarter after one

I'm all alone and I need you now

And I said I wouldn't call

But I'm a little drunk and I need you now

And I don't know how I can do without…

I just need you now…

I just need you now…

"Oh baby, I need you now."

There's a stillness in the room as the final piano note resonates; neither of them dares to so much as breathe. Rachel looks down to find that her hands have unconsciously migrated over to Jesse's, resting on the piano keys, their fingertips millimeters from touching.

"Rachel…"

The spell broken, Rachel yanks her hands back and holds them against her chest, cheeks burning. Grabbing the first pile of papers she sees off the keyboard, she quickly turns around and exits the room, moving quickly through his apartment to the door. She only stops to grab her coat off an armchair, then runs out the door.

"Rachel, wait!"

The door slams shut with a loud bang! Jesse stares at it through the open door of the music room, mentally kicking himself for scaring her off like that.

Outside, Rachel struggles into her coat, heart pounding wildly. The wind is biting cold and icy, whipping through her hair and causing the fabric of her jeans to stick to her skin, but she barely feels a thing.

All she can feel is their hands on the keyboard, so close to touching. And how, for a moment, she'd wanted him to touch her; wanted it so badly that every cell in her body was screaming for it to happen already. Touch her, and kiss her, and lay her down on the bed in the next room, and…

Rachel shivers in the cold, banishing those thoughts from her mind. They hadn't; he didn't. And thank God for that.

(If only she could convince herself that she believes that.)

Author's Note: So? Thoughts?

I swear, I had "Need You Now" picked out for Hello, I Love You (the show) before they covered it on Glee. (While I'm bringing that up - Lea Michele was amazing, of course, but Mark Salling was so not the right choice for her partner. *Cough cough* Jonathan Groff would've been so so much better... *cough cough*)

A few things: vocal score, for those of you who don't know, is music written out with just the vocal parts, no piano or any instrumental accompaniment. I know for a fact that they use this on Broadway, because we rented a bunch of Broadway music for our winter concert and a lot of it came as vocal score.

Amanda (how do you all like her so far?) looks like Selena Gomez.

And, finally, I highly suggest that you look up the piano version of "Need You Now". It's absolutely beautiful and kind of chilling. (And imagine Jonathan Groff playing it...)

Reviews are very very much appreciated, of course. I only ask that you please refrain from mentioning anything relating to tonight's episode, as I have not seen it yet. (This only applies to people reviewing between Tuesday night March 15th and Thursday morning March 17th. By then, I will have seen it, so you can reference it all you want.)

No promises on when the next chapter will be up, but it should be soon. I'm finally getting back into the swing of things (in case you all hadn't noticed, I've been in a bit of a slump as far as updates for a while...), so expect less of a waiting time than last time.

Kisses!

- Authoress