Chapter 1: The Voicemail
Summary: Quinn and Finn are childhood friends. They've done everything together from playing pranks to kissing each other first. Finn promised Quinn they'd get married if both of them were still single by the time they were 28. But when Finn says he's marrying Rachel, a pretty Broadway star, Quinn will do anything-even pretend to be Puck's fiancee-to win him back. Quick, Finchel, Fuinn.
Author's Note: Hi guys! This is my second story ever, and it is very loosely based on the Julia Roberts movie. If you like this story, check out my profile and my other story, We Fought For This Land. It also involves a ton of Quick, Finchel, and Fuinn. However, this story is much more light and humorous than my first; it is almost like a romantic comedy! Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Please follow, fav, and review!
Chapter 1: The Voicemail
"Hey, Q. It's Finn. It's been months, huh? Sorry, I've been so busy playing football with the Bears. Knowing you, you've been busy with work and whichever guy you're with now, so I'm sure you haven't missed me! Anyway, call me, whenever. I'm in Chicago at the Drake hotel. We need to talk as soon as possible."
Quinn Fabray played her voicemail again as she sat at an Italian restaurant in Manhattan with her friend and co-worker, Santana Lopez. The two women worked as journalists for the New York Times, Santana covering fashion and Quinn writing on current events. Santana raised her eyebrows. "Is that the hot best friend?", she asked. "Because if it is, you need to introduce him to me!" Quinn smiled at Santana's words, knowing that the Latina was always looking for a new boy toy, as Santana liked to call her one-night stands. "Santana, he's not really the hook-up type," Quinn said. "But yes, it was him!"
"What's he calling me about?" Quinn wondered. "It sounded like an emergency!" "Oh, honey, I'm an expert on manz," Santana said. "Manz? Really, Santana?", Quinn said, giggling. "Well, as I was saying before some bitch interrupted me, I can use my knowledge of men to help you figure out what he might be calling you about. So tell me about him, Q."
Quinn took a bite of her shrimp scampi pasta and considered. "Well, Finn and I grew up together. He was two months older than me and lived just two streets down from me growing up. We did everything together - went to school together, played pranks on our teachers together, he played football while I was the cheerleader on the sidelines. Finn was my date to junior and senior prom and my first kiss. He kissed me at graduation! We dated for a little while after our senior year: three hot, passionate, romantic months. The best, most perfect three months of my life."
Santana snorted. "For you, "hot, passionate, and romantic" means you let him hold your hand a couple of times, and if he was extra lucky, you let him kiss you for 2 seconds - without tongue!" Quinn ignored Santana's jibes about Quinn's chastity and morals. Anyway, she wasn't as innocent as Santana thought. But the two women were so opposite: the pure and classically beautiful Quinn and the slutty and smoking hot Santana. Quinn sometimes wondered why they were even friends.
"No, Finn and I did a lot more than holding hands, if you know what I mean," Quinn said. Santana gasped. "Maybe you aren't such a chaste little Christian after all! What happened after three months?", she asked. "I went to Yale to major in English so I could become a journalist," Quinn said. "He went to UCLA on a full scholarship for football. And we were both so preoccupied with what was going on at our separate schools that when he came to visit me in Connecticut, I broke things off with him."
"That was really dumb!" Santana exclaimed. "I can't believe you broke up with the Chicago Bears' star quarterback! You could be really rich by now!" Quinn giggled, knowing full well that Santana's lifelong ambition was to marry an NFL player for their "reliability". "Anyway, he cried a little and said he felt like he was losing his best friend, since things were going to be different between us from that point. And then I felt like the frigid bitch I've always been."
Santana started laughing hysterically. "That's so true! You are a frigid bitch!" Quinn glared at her friend. "You're too brutally honest, San," she said. Santana shrugged. "I just tell it like it is."
"Anyway, then I cried, for the hundredth time in my life and kissed him. Nothing's gotten in the way of our friendship since."
Santana smirked. "I don't know if I should say that's cute or if I should stick my fingers down my throat." "Oh, shut up, San!", Quinn said playfully. "I remember one night when I traveled to Los Angeles in our junior year to see him…"
Finn was sitting on his dorm bed at UCLA with Quinn. He was holding her and kissing her honey-blonde hair as she told him about what was going on at Yale, from gossip about her roommates to an internship she could get with the New York Times. Then Finn suddenly sat up, startling Quinn. "What is it, you scared me to death!", she joked.
"I just thought of something," he said seriously. Quinn sighed - he was so adorable when he was serious about something. "I think we should get married if we're twenty-eight and we're both still single," Finn continued. Quinn chuckled. "You really mean that, Finn? You'd really want to be stuck with little old me for eternity if you can't sucker some other poor girl into marrying you?", she asked, half jokingly and half seriously.
"I would want to," Finn responded. "I love you, Q." Quinn's heart soared. Why did I ever break up with him?, she thought. "I love you too," she whispered and kissed him passionately on the lips. He tenderly slid his hands from her slim waist to the clasp of her bra. And the two college kids sealed their pact to marry each other if they were both single when they turned twenty-eight by making love on Finn's dorm bed. They were so much more than a one-night stand, and always would be.
Quinn finished relaying the short version of her treasured story to Santana. "I don't know what made me think of that," she said. "I doubt Finn has ever thought about it since that night!"
Santana's dark brown eyes sparkled. "I do, Q! You're turning twenty-eight in two weeks, right?" Quinn nodded, still not understanding Santana's train of thought. "And he's older than you," Santana continued, "so he'd already be twenty-eight."
Quinn finally realized what Santana was trying to say and gasped. "You think he's calling me to propose?!", she exclaimed, her voice raising in pitch because she was so excited. Santana nodded. "For someone who went to Yale, you're so dumb and you don't have much common sense!", she said teasingly. Quinn glared at the Latina, but didn't care about snide remarks like that as much as she normally would.
"Well, Quinn," Santana exclaimed, "in a few hours we could be looking at an engaged woman!"
Quinn took the New York subway back to her apartment on the Upper West Side. She had done pretty well for herself as one of the top journalists for the New York Times. Because of that, her apartment was spacious, clean, airy, and well-decorated.
Quinn collapsed on the white leather couch and smiled at the thought of possibly becoming Mrs. Finn Hudson. She was so giddy when she picked up her cell phone to call Finn. She hoped it wasn't a bad time to call but he did say she could call him whenever.
He picked up on the first ring. "Hey, Q!", he said excitedly. Quinn sighed - it was so good to hear his voice. "Finn! How are you?", she asked. "Great!", he said. "I have something life-changing to ask you!"
Here it is, Quinn thought. He's going to ask me to marry him! What could be more life-changing than that! "I have something to ask you first, Finn," she asked, trying to keep the mood light. "Do you still think of that night in Los Angeles when I visited you our junior year at your dorm?" Quinn could almost hear Finn smile over the phone line. "Oh God, Q, I think of that night all the time!" Quinn's heart raced, but then he continued. "That's actually not what I called you about though," he said.
It wasn't? Then what did he call me about, if not to propose?, Quinn thought sadly. "Quinn, I met someone," Finn said. Her stomach dropped. "Who is it?," she asked. "Hopefully someone better than that hoe Crystal," she said jokingly. Finn laughed. Oh God, how she loved the sound of his laughter. "Yes, Crystal was a piece of work," he agreed. "Her name's Rachel Berry, and she's a Broadway star in Wicked. I've been dating her for nine months now. She's great, Quinn. She's beautiful and talented and confident and smart. Her family's wonderful too. I think you'll really like her."
"Rachel Berry," Quinn mused out loud. "I think I've seen her in a production of Wicked…wait, did you say you've met her family?" Quinn knew his relationship with this Rachel girl must be serious if he'd already met her family. "Well, of course I've met her family!", Finn exclaimed. "We're getting married on Sunday, but the wedding festivities start tomorrow!"
Quinn was so stunned and disappointed that she fell off of the couch. "This Sunday, Finn! Don't you have football? That's irresponsible, even for you!" Quinn was saying the lamest, bitchiest things to make him hesitant about his marriage. "Irresponsible? Really, Quinn? This is my life we're talking about here," he said, sounding a little angry. Quinn immediately felt a little bad for acting like a bitch. "But listen, I'm a little scared of marrying her. Everything's going to change, you know? I'd really love for you to be there with me. Please, Q?"
Finn sounded so cute when he begged for something that she couldn't say no, and besides, she was his best friend. "Okay, Finn, I'll make the flight arrangements this instant." "That won't be necessary!," Finn said. "Rachel and I are getting married here! I met her when my buddies and I went to a bar after one of my games against the New York Giants." "Okay, I'll see you tomorrow then," Quinn said. And I love you, she added in her head. Finn was so obviously happy about this, and Quinn felt good for making a decision to support someone other than herself for once. The two former lovers said goodbye to each other, with Quinn feeling a little sad about the call. He was right-everything was going to change from this point. There would be a third wheel to their friendship, Rachel the Broadway star. Finn's soon-to-be devoted wife.
And then Quinn thought of a brilliant plan that was worthy of a Yale grad and that Santana would've been proud of her for: she would take the wedding down and confess her feelings to Finn. Look out, Rachel Berry, Quinn thought. You haven't met Quinn the HBIC yet, but you're about to! There was no way Quinn would let some slutty Broadway diva stand in her way of happiness.