The Transfer: A Glee Fanfiction

Chapter 21

When Rachel got home, she found Nicky setting up a small-but-complicated-looking stereo system in the corner of the living room.

"Nicky, you do realize the party isn't for another five and a half hours, right?" Rachel asked. She couldn't tell if she was impressed with Nicky's efforts or concerned for her sanity.

"I know!" Nicky exclaimed in distress. "Almost no time at all! Even with the extra hour I got cutting English." Definitely concerned. "I hope you don't mind, but I went through your closet to find you an outfit. Speaking of which, we need to go on an emergency shopping trip. All of your clothes look like they belong in the costume trailer for a Japanese candy commercial. No offense," she added quickly. "I had to run home and get something for you to wear from my closet. It's on your bed."

"You're a bit controlling, did you know that?" Rachel said, smirking. Nicky mumbled something unintelligible and went back to fixing the house up for that evening.

Rachel went up to her room and examined the outfit Nicky had chosen: a short black skirt with large, wavy pleats and a soft, red knit-sweater. Not her own clothes, but she liked them. They were like her regular style with the volume turned up. On the floor were a pair of black suede stilettos that immediately horrified Rachel. She slid the ankle-breakers under her bed, fished a pair of her favorite Mary Janes out of the closet, and placed those next to the outfit instead with tights to match. Much better, she thought. Only five and a half more hours.

She occupied herself with her Calc homework. Rachel hated math, and every problem felt like torture. She used to do her math homework with Mercedes, Artie, and Tina in the choir room after rehearsals. Having them to help her and complain with her made the work tolerable, and Artie was the only reason Rachel was passing Calc. Maybe she could pay him to tutor her now that she wasn't in his class anymore.

At five o'clock, Rachel gave up on math and moved on to English. She had to write a five page essay on whether or not Gatsby really was great, and although Rachel found the question cliche, she knocked out a rough draft in just under two hours.

She had been putting it off, but if she didn't start getting ready she would be late for her date. Rachel shuddered just thinking about it. Better to just get it over with, she thought.

Rachel did her hair and makeup so she would be ready to just change her outfit and join the party when she got home. Per Jacob's request, she left on her school uniform, but she buttoned it up almost to the top and tugged her skirt down as far as she could, a fruitless attempt to keep his pervy-ness at bay. Rachel checked the time. 7:43. She grabbed her coat and said goodbye to Nicky before getting in her car and driving to Breadstix.

She pulled into the parking lot at 8:03 and sat in her car for five minutes trying to work up her courage before heading into the restaurant. Rachel could see Jacob waiting in a booth towards the back of the room and swallowed her pride and dignity before joining him. Immediately, he stood up to greet her, but Rachel took a step back.

"Ground rules," she said firmly. "No touching me or staring at my chest. If you make one inappropriate comment, I'm leaving. No appetizers, no dessert, just entrees. After we finish eating, you're going to pay the bill and we are going to go to our own homes in our own cars. Do you understand?"

He nodded his head quickly and sat back down. Rachel sat across from him, and awkward silence fell over them. She could tell Jacob was afraid that if he spoke, he'd break one of her rules, and Rachel felt a little bad. She decided to start the conversation.

"So," she said slowly. "How's your blog doing?"

He breathed a sigh of relief and dove into a story about his latest post. Apparently, there were rumors that Sam and Quinn were having relationship troubles for "unknown reasons." Rachel wanted to roll her eyes. Like nobody knows about Quinn and Finn, she thought. Jacob was a better reporter than that. He must be saving the gossip for a special occasion, or maybe he was sparing her feelings.