The dulcet tones of Taylor Swift’s Call It What You Want To came through the speakers. Thank God they were playing good music for once. This would have been a really romantic moment if she’d managed to snag a boyfriend before Homecoming.
“I don’t know; I think there’s something to be said about dating some kind of country farm boy in high school, as long as you can find one with the ability to spell his own name.” She danced with the music, resisting Sebastian’s lead only slightly. She was a control freak after all. “Look at Taylor Swift. She went through the ‘kissing a football player in the barn in the rain’ phase and settled down with hot English playboys after adulthood.”
Yale. For once in Quinn’s life her mind wasn’t totally consumed with thoughts of the Ivy League. It was only a few months until they’d be moving to New Haven, she was sure of it. Then things would really change. “They’ll write Pulitzer winning novels about our will-they-won’t-they story one day,” she joked, giving him a slight smile.
“Speaking of Yale, we’re flying together for our interviews aren’t we? My dad won’t let us share a hotel room, but we should still bunk in the same place so we can keep each other company. I’ll even go to a gay bar with you if you need a sober sally to keep you from going home with a homeless alcoholic after you get too drunk to see straight.”
Quinn had admittedly lost him once she’d brought Taylor Swift into the equation. Not because he had anything against her, but because he was pretty sure she’d never actually dated a farm boy. “When did John Mayer play football and help out in a barn, exactly?” Beside the point. Irrelevant. “You’re too good for a barn and the hay would get everywhere.” Better. “I say this from experience.”
Oh, the things you wish you didn’t remember from when you just weren’t drunk enough.
From across the room, he could see the list of potential suitors awaiting him -- Lima’s best and not quite brightest. There weren’t many. There was his friend Jamie, but he’d tried that already and he still wasn’t sure if Jamie was kidding when he’d asked him how to spell “orange.” And there was Blaine, but every time he tried to approach that, he just... didn’t. And there was Sam Evans, all around golden child. He’d... Well. He’d be fun to play with.
He was ready for a change. He was ready to leave Lima behind (for good, god, for good) and get to the East Coast. He wanted to make something out of himself, actually make a difference. He didn’t necessarily like the idea of his dad’s name being the reason he was going to be a shoo-in, but he didn’t say that out loud. After all, everything from the outside looking in with the Smythes was picture perfect. You can’t just mess something like that up. “What would the neighbors think?!” he could hear his mother’s hushed tone from all the way across town.
“I just hope Ryan Gosling gets the part right for the film adaptation. I have faith in Margot Robbie bringing just the right touch of Fabray to the screen.”
It was easy with Quinn. He’d learned that a long time ago. He didn’t know if it was because some part of her reminded him of himself (except, you know, the never having sex part because why), but it was easy. It worked. And he appreciated that.
Back to Yale. Back to thoughts of the future and moving on and moving forward. “Yeah, I think it’d make sense considering we have interviews scheduled the same day and the airport here only does, what? Two flights a day?”
The idea of Quinn Fabray at a gay bar was too good to pass up. Far too good. “Only if you’ll go in a suit. I can just see the New Haven lesbian population dropping their panties over you already.”
Honestly, it was worth it just to see the horrified look on her face.
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