Quinn feels a hand on the inside of her thigh. It shouldn't bother her. This is cheerleading. If people don't hold her tight, she'd break her spine. But the hand isn't still. It moves. Further up, under her skirt. Quinn peers down. Santana's pony tail is to her left. Quinn hastily brings one hand down and pushes Santana's hand nearer to her knee. No one notices. Santana doesn't stop beaming at the crowd. But after that, Quinn is shaky.

…

"What the fuck was that?" Quinn storms.

They're the only ones left in the locker room. Santana is still her underwear, applying mascara to her eyelashes. Quinn is fully dresses, ready to leave.

"What?" Santana asks, not paying attention.

"You felt me up."

Santana finally looked away from her reflection.

"Get over yourself, Q."

"You did!"

"God, just because I like girls doesn't mean that I would go and feel you up."

Quinn stares at her friends. She looks defensive.

"You touched my thigh."

"It's cheerleading!"

Quinn glares. Santana glares back. None of them says anything for a long time.

"Look, Q. I would never touch you like that. You're so not my type."

Quinn stomps off. She slams the door behind her.

…

Santana glances over at Quinn after practice. The hot water makes her skin shiny. Her face is flushed. She's tiny really, no boobs at all. Nothing to show off in a bikini. But she's slender and fit and beautiful.

"Stop staring at me" Quinn spits.

Santana rolls her eyes.

"As if I was."

Quinn pours soap into her hand and washes herself. Her hands brush her stomach, her breasts, between her legs.

"What's wrong with me?" she says.

"What?" Santana asks, trying to look away.

"If you're a lesbian, you don't you want to do me?"

Santana searches the blonde's face. She looks a bit hurt. It makes Santana giggle.

"I don't know, Q."

"Brittany and I are kind of alike."

"Brittany has boobs" Santana teases.

Quinn looks affronted and crosses her hands over her chest.

"I have boobs too."

"Really? Show me, then."

Quinn drops her hands. Santana pretends to inspect her.

"They're okay" she shrugs.

Quinn pouts.

"Fuck you."

Santana laughs.

"Why do you even care?"

Quinn shrugs.

"I don't."

…

Girls' nights isn't that much fun anymore. There used to be movies and giggling and spin the bottle and face masks. Now, it's mostly Santana and Brittany making out and Quinn reading magazines. She gets it, they're hot for each other and shit, but there are only so many times you can reread an US Weekly.

"Hey" she said after three hours. "I'm going home."

They break apart to look at her.

"No, Quinn. Please, stay" Brittany begs.

She has Santana's lip gloss all over her throat and face.

"You'll carry on just fine without me" Quinn smiles sternly.

"Come on, Q" Santana exhales.

But Quinn just takes her purse and leaves. Santana catches up with her as she's putting on her shoes.

"I thought you didn't mind me and Brit."

"I don't."
"Then stay!"

"Watching you two make out isn't the time of my life, you know."
Santana scowls.

"Don't be lame."

"I'm not being lame. Frankly, you two are being rude."

Santana rolls her eyes. Quinn takes her jacket and puts her hand on the handle, ready to leave.

"You could always join in."

"Oh, shut up."

…

Santana has an emergency drawer at Quinn's. It has come in handy during the numerous times she has spent the night. Quinn has never opened the drawer, not until tonight. Her fingers almost tremble as she does it. There's not much in it, though. A t-shirt (a fairly new addition, Quinn guesses, since until a year ago they could share tops. Now, Quinn's wouldn't go past Santana's chest), a towel and some underwear. Quinn picks up a pair of red lace panties. Who stores panties like that at a friend's? They look the pair you save for a special night with your boyfriend. Or girlfriend in Santana's case.

"What are you doing?" her mother asks.

Quinn jumps away from the drawer and quickly closes it.

"Nothing."

"Isn't that Santana's drawer?"

"Yeah. I'm cleaning it out."

"Why?"
"I don't think she'll be coming around much in the future."

…

"You can keep the panties" Santana sneers

"I don't want to."

"Remind me again why you're emptying the emergency drawer?"
"I need the space."

"Right. Your walk in closet isn't enough?"
Quinn sighs and pushes the plastic bag with Santana's stuff against her chest.

"You take it or I throw it away."

"Fine, fine. Don't get so snippy."

"I'm not snippy."

"Are you still pissed that we ruined girls night?"
"No! I just, needed the space."

Santana raises her eyebrows and bites her lip.

"Sure you don't wanna keep the panties?"

"Get over yourself."

…

"I'm staying over" Santana announces happily, standing on the Fabray threshold.

"No, you're not."

"Come on, you wanted girl time. Here I am."

Santana pushes Quinn aside and steps inside. There's really nothing left for Quinn to do but follow her upstairs.

"What's up?" Santana asks, throwing herself at Quinn's bed.

"I was planning on sleeping."

"That's boring."

"Well sorry, but I didn't plan on entertaining guests."

"I can entertain myself. Just put on the L Word and…."

"Shut up, you perv."

Santana chuckles merrily and pats the comforter next to her on the bed.

"Sit down, Q."

"Fine."

She sits down, arms crossed, feeling weird.

"You've been acting all weird since I felt you up at practice."

"So you admit to feeling me up?"

"My hand slipped."

"Right."

"I thought you weren't homophobic."

"You know I'm not."

Quinn leans back against the pillows. She's wearing her night gown. She wishes Santana could go away or at least shut up so that they could sleep.

"Let's just say good night" she suggests.

Santana smirks.

"Or" she says.

"Or what?"
Santana leans in and softly kisses her mouth. Quinn pulls back but Santana grabs the back of her head.

"Want my hand to slip again?" she hisses against Quinn's lips.

Quinn doesn't have the air in her lungs to answer.

…

"I can't believe that just happened" Quinn whispers.

Santana continues to stroke the inside of her thighs and thinking is difficult for Quinn right now.

"If we do it again, it might help you get it."

They giggle, just like they used to do when they were kids. Quinn lets her finger brush over Santana's breast, over her stomach and down between her legs. She doesn't really know what she's doing. She just wants to try it.

"What about Brittany?" she whispers as Santana starts moaning.

"What about her?" Santana pants.

"Aren't you dating?"

"Shut up."

"But…"

"Q, please just shut up."

So Quinn shuts up and spends the rest of the night learning the anatomy of the female body in a way that she never thought was possible.

…

Quinn isn't gay. Everybody knows that and most importantly, so does she. She likes boys. Muscular and manly boys with musky smells and a devotion to trucks. So when she wakes up, naked, entangled with her best friend, Quinn Fabray freaks out, understandably.

"Shit" she hisses. "Shit, shit, shit."

She feels the dried sweat on her forehead, sees the tangled sheets under her body. Santana has a leg between Quinn's. It's hot in the room, almost unbearable.

"Santana" she says loudly.

Santana mumbles something and rolls over on her back. Quinn sees the love bite on her neck. Did she do that?

"Shit" she hisses again and quickly entangles herself from the tan limbs.

She grabs her robe and closes the bathroom door behind her. She takes a quick shower, washes her hair twice and then dries herself. She ties the robe's belt tight around her waist before stepping back into her room.

"Morning" Santana mumbles from the bed.

She's still naked, still spread-eagled over Quinn's pink sheets.

"We're going to be late for school."

"Who cares?" Santana drawls and yawns.

"Get dressed."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

"Don't wanna be tempted?"
Quinn picks up Santana's jeans and top and throws them at her.

"Shut up."

"Come on, Fabray. Don't pretend last night didn't happen."

"It didn't."

Quinn turns her back on her best friend and gets dressed. When she's done and turns around, Santana's watching her, grinning smugly.

"What?" Quinn snaps.

"Nothing."

"Get up then."

"You're hot, Q. Never realized, but in some ballerina way, you're smokin'."

"I'm going down for breakfast."

"Fine" Santana sighs.

Quinn takes a deep breath and goes down the stairs. And even though she doesn't want to, Santana's words make her smile. Just a crack, not much. Just a tiny smile.

…

In the locker room after practice, Quinn feels her hand on her shoulder. It could be anyone touching her, but Quinn knows it's Santana.

"Get off me" she growls.

Some of the other girls raise their eyebrows, surprised by timid Quinn's rage.

"Don't be like this, Q" Santana smiles. "It's not like we haven't touched before."

"Leave me alone."

Santana snickers. She pulls on her jeans and a t-shirt.

"Don't you wear a bra?" one of the juniors ask.

"I usually do, but I seem to have lost it somewhere."

Quinn feels her cheeks burn. She has a vague memory of ripping Santana's bra off and maybe tearing it apart. She hopes her memory is messing with her.

"Why are you so mad, Quinn?" Brittany asks, tilting her head.

"I'm not."

"Maybe she just slept badly" Santana suggests.

"No, I slept fine."

She turns away from them both and finishes getting dressed.

…

"Santana's parents are going away for the weekend and I thought it would be nice for her to stay here" Russell Fabray says.

Santana nods vigorously.

"She's eighteen" Quinn mutters. "I think she can handle being alone for two days."

"Quinn" her father says warningly.

"It's going to be fun, Q" Santana says perkily. "We can have pillow fights and tell secrets and have se…"

"Come on" Quinn interrupts her just in time. "Let's go upstairs then."

Santana grins and Quinn feels like she's going to throw up.

"You can't just ignore it forever" Santana says as Quinn's closes the door.

"You're an asshole."

"How so?"
"What about your girlfriend?"

"Oh, come on…"

"Come on, what?"

"You liked it, Quinn. Don't try and deny it."

"I didn't like it."

"Liar."

Yes, Quinn is a liar.

"You broke my bra" Santana sniggers.

"I did not."

Santana bends down (Quinn can see her panties under that short skirt and tries to look away) and fishes up her broken bra from under the bed.

"Look what I found."

"You pulled that off."
"It's just sex, Q. Don't get all weird about it."

"I don't have sex with girls."

"Well, evidently you did last night."

"I'm not gay."

"Whatever. It's just sex."
Santana takes her hand and Quinn lets her because it's something about that torn bra that makes her feel funny.

"I don't even like sex" Quinn whispers as Santana starts kissing her throat.

"Maybe you just don't like it with boys."
"Wouldn't that make me lesbian?"
"Just shut up, Q and take your damn clothes off."

…

It's true that Quinn doesn't like sex. It's not like she hates it but she just never understood the big deal. When Santana and Brittany giggled about it during girls nights (before they both got gay), Quinn always pretended to agree. Sure, kissing is fine, but being naked and under a boy that just kept exhaling on her face, not Quinn's idea of a good time.

Sex with Santana though, it's not like that. Santana is soft and her hair smells nice and she makes Quinn feel like she's not new at this girl on girl- thing. She doesn't say things like fuck me or you're making me so hot, Quinn. She just kisses her all over and makes her fingers do most of the work.

"I'm not gay" Quinn whispers into Santana's chest.

It's dark out now.

"I don't care what you are."

Quinn lets her tongue lick Santana's skin, it tastes salty and makes Santana shudder with delight.

"We shouldn't do this anymore, though."

"Why not?" Santana asks. "You can't honestly tell me that you didn't like it after that noise you just made."

Quinn giggles.

"No. It's not that. It's… Brittany."

Santana inhales a deep breath.

"It's not fair to her…"

"She won't care, Q."

"Why not? She's your girlfriend."

"No."
"What do mean, 'no'"?"

"We broke up."

"When?"

"At girls' night."

"What? But you were basically having sex in front of me."

"I don't wanna talk about it."

Santana turns away from her.

"So, that's why you came to me? Because Brittany broke up with you?"

"Who said she dumped me?"

Quinn gets up. She feels something in her chest, hurt, yes, that's it.

"She dumped you and you wanted to get laid, so you came here."

Santana gets up too. Her eyes are dark and not with arousal.

"Why do you care, Q?"

"I'm not your booty call!"

"What are you then?"

"Get out."
"Fine."

…

"Let's go out tonight" Brittany suggests.

Quinn furrows her brow.

"What?"

"To a club!"

It's weird sitting at lunch like nothing has changed. Quinn doesn't meet Santana's eye. Santana doesn't meet Brittany's. And Brittany is talking about dancing.

"I'm beat" Quinn lies.

"Me too" Santana agrees.

"Please" Brittany begs. "I wanna dance!"

"Fine" Quinn agrees because she knows that Santana will say no.

Brittany grabs her hand and squeezes it.

"San, please say you'll come too!"

Quinn glances at Santana. She's picking at her food, looking cranky.

"Okay" she says.

Quinn sighs inaudible.

"Yes!" Brittany says triumphantly. "Let's get dress up and dance!"

"Woho" Quinn murmurs sarcastically.

"Great" Santana whispers sarcastically.

Their eyes meet, of old habit, and they both smile. When Brittany acts like child, it's protocol for them to share a "if it makes her happy"-look. But now it's weird so they look away quickly.

…

Santana looks like a whore. She's wearing a tight, red dress so short that Snooki would be embarrassed. Her boots reaches her knee and her lips are flaming red to match her dress. She looks hot, sure, but also like a whore.

"Where's your pants?" Quinn shouts in Santana's ear over the loud music.

"What?"

"You're just wearing a top, right?"
"Fuck off."

Quinn rolls her eyes and drifts away from her friends. She feels weird, like this situation if new to her, as if spending time with Santana is something strange. Not like she's out dancing with her two best friends.

"Hi darlin'" a guy says.

He's much older than she is, maybe thirty or even older. He smells like sweat and Calvin Klein.

"Hi" she replies because she's straight and likes men.

"Can I buy you a drink?"
She nods and he hands her a glass of something that smells like cough medicine. She takes a sip.

"What's your name?" he asks.

"Quinn. You?"
"Devon."

He smiles at her, she smiles back. His teeth are rather brown but other than that, he's handsome. She reaches out and touches she scruff on his cheeks.

"You're very hot" he tells her.

"You too."

They begin to dance (or something). He touches her and she touches him and she feels his erection against her thigh. And she pretends to like it.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks.

"Sure."

He tastes like cough syrup and cigarettes but that's okay. He's a bit rough while touching her, but that's okay too. He just likes her.

"Quinn, come dance with us" Brittany squeaked in her ear.

Quinn shakes her head.

"He's a creep, Q" Santana hisses. "He's probably married with kids."
"Leave me alone" Quinn hisses back.

"Don't come complaining to me when you have Chlamydia."

"Wanna get some air?" Quinn whispers in Devon's ear and he nods.

…

"Some intense friends" he comments.

"They're not my friends."

She pushes him against a tree and starts kissing him again. Feel something, she urges herself. Devon pulls his pants down and Quinn lets him move in closer.

"You're great" he pants as he slides into her.

She nods and looks over his shoulder at the other people making out. She feels pain and then more pain and then it's over. He pulls his pants up and she pulls her dress down.

"Quinn, that was amazing" he smiles.

She smiles too.

"Yeah" she lies because it was terrible.

"You're hot and great."

"Thanks."

He's drunk and wobbles as she lets go of his arms.

"I'm just gonna pee and then we can go again, eh?"

"Sure."

He stumbles away to some bush. She looks after him and feels disgust at herself. Leaving him outside, she goes inside again, wanting to find something that actually means something. And she sees them. Making out against the toilet door, one of Santana's legs hitched up around Brittany's waist, Brittany's hand under Santana's dress. Quinn watches them for a few seconds because she can't move. They look in love, like a passionate couple. Santana smiles in a way that Quinn didn't make her smile that other night. Just when Quinn turns to leave, Santana looks her way. They exchange a look and then she kisses Brittany again. And Quinn leaves.

…

On Monday, Santana corners her in the hallway and pulls her into to some broom closet.

"How are your STDs treating you?"

"I thought you two broke up?"

"It's just sex."

"Everything can't be always about just sex, Santana."

Quinn tries to make it past her, out the door, but Santana is stronger and holds her back.

"Do you feel straight now, Quinn?"

"Yes."

"Must be the shortest sex I have ever heard about."

"Doesn't mean it wasn't good."

"Was it?"

No.

"Yes."

Santana smirks.

"Did you come?"

"None of your fucking business."

"Did you moan like you did in my ear?"

Quinn again makes an attempt to escape the closet but Santana again holds her back.

"Let me go" Quinn hisses.

Santana smiles and kisses her. Quinn lets her lips meet Santana's and her hands make their way under Santana's cheerleading skirt. It's over in minutes because the bell is ringing and the broom closet is disgusting but it makes Quinn feel weak in her knees.

"Fuck off" she whispers and disappears.

…

When the door bell rings late on Tuesday evening, Quinn is sure it's going to be Santana, but it isn't. It's Brittany.

"We need to talk" she says and stomps up to Quinn's bedroom.

"What about?" Quinn asks nervously.

"You and Santana."

"Wha…"

Brittany places a finger across her lips and though it's a childish way of silencing someone, Quinn stops talking.

"I'm sorry for making out with her at the club. I didn't mean to."

"You don't have to apologize."
"You never liked it when we made out in front of you."

"At girls' night? No, because we were supposed to hang out."

Brittany shakes her head.

"You like her."

"No, Brittany. I don't."

"She likes you too."

"Santana doesn't like anyone. Except maybe you."

"You were the first girl she fell in love with."

"Brit, come on.."

"No, it's true. When you transferred to our school in eighth grade everything changed. Suddenly she wanted to join cheerios and dress differently and be with you."

"She doesn't like me, Brit."

"Have you slept together?"

Quinn blushes and looks away.

"It's just sex" she says.

"It's never just sex."

"Why did you break up?"
Brittany shrugs.

"I was tired of always being second."

"You're not her second!"

"You should ask her why she wanted to make out with me on every girls' night."

"Why?"

"Because it's the reason I broke up with her."

…

Quinn knows that Brittany got it wrong. She isn't that bright and she probably mixed things up. The idea of Santana joining the cheerios for Quinn is hilarious. Santana has never been anything but a pain in Quinn's ass. Everything she has done, Santana has ridiculed. Everything has always been competition with them. There's not love there. It's just sex. And now, not even that.

….

They fight even more now. Quinn fucks with her as much as she can during practice; Santana makes her miserable in class. They even get violet in hallway, arguing about something trivial. Mr. Shue grabs Santana's arm, Coach Beiste grabs Quinn's.

"I'm tired of you two" their glee club teacher tells them,

"Let me go" Santana spits.

Quinn doesn't even try to fight it. She just rolls her eyes and listens to Shue talk about them being a family and friendship and other shit.

"She's not my fucking sister" Santana tells him. "I hate her."

"Come on, Santana" he tries.

"No, don't give me some shit."

Mr. Shuester gets up.

"I'm going to lock you two here, in this classroom, until you work out your differences."

"Fine" Quinn whispers.

"That's torture" Santana objects.

"I'm sure it's not."

He leaves them. Quinn watches the clock. Santana sighs loudly every ten seconds.

"If this turns up on my permanent record…" Quinn begins.

Santana cuts her off.

"Shut up."
"Don't tell me to shut up."

"Just shut up."

Quinn wants to hit her. Or shake her.

"When did you become such a bitch?" she asks.

Santana grins.

"I've always been a bitch, remember? So have you."

"Shut up."

"If you do."

They sit in silence for forty more minutes before a French class begins in the classroom and they slip out.

…

Brittany starts dating some random girl from Quinn's art history class. Quinn watches Santana's face as they walk by, but she shows nothing.

"How's the new girl?" Quinn asks Brittany.

"Sheila? She's great."

"A bit sudden though, don't you think? I mean, you and Santana just broke up."

"It's been three weeks."

"Yeah, that's my point."

"Santana's fine."

"How do you know?"

Brittany smiles and pats Quinn's cheek.

"I thought you hated her."

"I do, but…"

Quinn mumbles something and looks away. She doesn't really know why she's even bothering with this.

"I think you should make up" Brittany says. "I miss us three hanging out."

"Me too" Quinn confesses.

"Just say you're sorry then."

"For what? She's the one who treated me like a fucking booty call" Quinn hisses.

"She didn't."

Quinn shrugs. Brittany tilts her head to one side.

"I'm not saying you have to marry her, Q, just be friends again."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah."

…

It doesn't work out though. Quinn has her apology ready when Santana starts spreading the rumor that Quinn is pregnant again. Ms. Pillsbury even calls her to office to discuss options before Quinn can do damage control.

"I hate you" she yells at Santana across the field during practice.

"Right back at you, princess."

Coach Sylvester tells them to shut up so they do. But during a lift, Santana's hand "slips" and Quinn falls hard onto the grass. It hurts like hell and feels just a humiliating.

"What's the fucking matter with you?" Quinn screams and pushes Santana in the chest.

"You fell on your ass, Fabray. Not my fault."

Coach Sylvester blows on her whistle hard. Quinn steps back, rubbing her aching shoulder.

"We can't win nationals if you don't work this out" Coach tells them.

Brittany nods agreeing.

"There's nothing to work out" Santana smiles sweetly. "Quinn is just impossible."

"Shut up."

The squad watches them. Quinn feels like crying.

"I give you ten seconds to work this out or you're both off the team" Sue tells them.

Quinn knows she isn't faking. She really will kick them out. Santana knows it too. She walks right up to her. Quinn is sure she's going to punch her. But she doesn't. Instead, she leans forward and kisses her, on the mouth, on the field, in front of the football players and cheerleaders. Santana kisses Quinn and she kisses her back.

"Oh my god" she can hear Puck yell.

Quinn finally pulls back. Everything is still. Everything is quiet. Everyone's watching them.

"You fucking sap" Quinn whispers.

Santana grins.

"We're fine now" she tells their coach.

And maybe they are.

…

"I'm still not a lesbian" Quinn says.

"Whatever."

They sit at the Fabray dining table, drinking sodas and feeling awkward.

"You realize people will talk" Santana tells her seriously. "I mean, there were a lot of people there."

Quinn looks down on her hands.

"I'm not gay."

"So you keep saying."

"My mother will kill me if I like girls."

"You thought she would kill you if you got knocked up too. And here you are."
Quinn almost smiles.

"Do you like me, Santana? I mean, for real?"

"Fuck off."

"I'm going to lose my trust fund over this, San. Again."

"So?"

"I'm not going to do it if you can't even admit that you like me."

Santana finishes Quinn's soda and licks her lips.

"Hey" Quinn says affronted. "That was my coke."

"Come and taste it then."

Quinn leans in and kisses her. Santana's hands feels so good around her neck, in her hair, on her cheeks.

"Of course I like you, Fabray" Santana whispers into her skin.

"How much do you like me?"

"Don't push it."

"How long have you liked me?"

Santana rolls her eyes and kisses her again.