This is quite possibly my worst idea yet.

I fiddled nervously with the collar of my shirt. I couldn't believe I was doing this. What on earth possessed me to agree to this?

I sighed wearily, rubbing my eyes with a finger and thumb. Neither of us really managed to find intelligible words on the phone, so Rachel had meekly suggested we talk face-to-face over coffee. I hadn't realized it at the time, but after I'd hung up, I recalled the first time she'd asked me out for coffee. That had been our first 'date.' I hope she doesn't think of this as a date, too... I winced. What if she did? What the hell was I gonna do then? I had a boyfriend, for god's sake. And if her note was true, if she still loved me... I wasn't sure how I was going to react if she did something.

I shouldn't be here. Really. I was certain this wasn't going to turn out well. I got up, preparing to leave, and looked up at the soft 'ding!' of the door opening. I looked that way and my breath caught. Without thinking about it, I slid back into my seat, stunned into silence.

She'd changed since I last saw her. She was a few inches taller now, and a little thinner than I remembered her being. As she looked around, I caught sight of the piercings in her eyebrow and lip that certainly hadn't been there before. Finally, her dark brown gaze pinned on me and I cringed inwardly at the brilliant smile that appeared on her pierced lips.

As Rachel easily made her way over to me, I took in her overall appearance. She wore a black tank top under what appeared to be a black leather biker vest, leaving her arms bared. I could vaguely make out the pale scars running up her right arm; a red and black tribal-looking rose tattoo wound its way around her left. Most surprising, though, was the pair of tight black pants she wore. Two buckled straps circled her thighs, and thin silver chains looped down the outsides of her legs. I hadn't recalled her ever owning any... bondage pants, I recalled the name with a faint blush.

Yes, she certainly looked different than I recalled.

By the time she was standing over me, propping herself up on the table with that gentle grin on her face, I found that I still couldn't think of a thing to say.

"Jessie? Hello?" Rachel teased, evidently noticing my inability to speak. "Do I not get a greeting? A hug? A slap? Come on, throw me a bone here."

I stared blankly at her for another second before exclaiming the first thing I could think of: "Holy shit, how much did you grow?"

Rachel laughed, moving to sit in the other chair. "Only like three inches. But I'm now half an inch over six feet." She grinned impishly, running the pad of her thumb over her lip ring. "And since I'm officially over six feet, I can now cross that off my bucket list." She made a lazy checking motion with her finger and shrugged. There was a short, awkward silence, before she spoke up again. "I'm gonna get a drink; you want anything?"

"No, I'm fine," I assured her quickly.

Rachel shrugged a second time, adjusting the skull ring that still adorned her middle finger. "Suit yourself," she decided with a nod, getting up and wandering to the counter. I studied her gait in silence; she had a powerful stride though, as with everything about her, there was a subtle feminine aspect of it. I scratched my cheek absently before averting my gaze when I realized it probably looked like I was staring. I kept my mind perfectly silent as I waited for her to get back.

I looked up as she returned, and my brow furrowed in confusion and a little annoyance when she placed a chocolate chip cookie in front of me. "I told you I didn't want anything." That probably sounded a little rude, but I didn't want her doing these kinds of things for me. Not anymore.

Rachel raised her eyebrows in vague surprise as she sat. She'd gotten a cookie for herself and a tall cup of what I assumed to be hot chocolate. "Yeah, well. We have like two years to catch up on. Everyone knows you need cookies when catching up." She offered me a crooked, tentative grin. "It's a fact."

"Is it now?" I inquired dryly, unable to hide my small smile at her childish behavior. My most prominent memories of her had been of the rocky last month or two of our relationship; I'd almost completely forgotten how silly she acted normally. I broke a small piece off the cookie, nibbling absently on it.

"It is." Rachel nodded and took a sip from her cup. She almost instantly jerked away with a wince. "Damn if I don't scald my tongue every time I come here," she muttered in mild disgust. I felt my lips quirk, but I hid it behind my hand. Her dark gaze flicked back up to me again. "So, what all've you been up to?"

"College, mostly," I replied with a shrug.

"Ah, right." Rachel nodded, removing the lid to her drink so she could lick the whipped cream off of it. "Are you going to Valdosta like you wanted?"

I was mildly surprised that she remembered. We'd only discussed it once. "Uh... yeah."

"Cool." She flashed a gentle grin at me. "What's your major?"

I shifted slightly. "Don't laugh," I warned her. Rachel merely raised a brow at me and motioned for me to continue. "Choral music education."

Her eyes crinkled in amusement. If she hadn't been taking a sip from her cup at the moment, I'm sure I would have seen her trying not to smile. "Don't laugh!" I repeated, frowning at her. What few high school friends I still kept in touch with all laughed at the prospect of me teaching.

Rachel idly readjusted her glasses. It was then that I noticed that they were a different style than they'd been last I saw her. They were more rectangular than what she used to wear. They made her look oddly more... mature.

"I'm not laughing," she insisted, lowering her cup. She really was trying hard not to smile. "If you want to go into the glamorous, well-paying lifestyle of a chorus teacher, who am I to judge?" Her lips quirked and she snorted softly into her cup before composing herself again. "Sorry."

"Liar." I lightly kicked her under the table, but she didn't respond aside for a slight jerk. She merely stuck her studded tongue out at me.

"Don't chorus teacher have to learn to play piano these days?" Rachel inquired curiously, breaking off another piece of her cookie.

"And you know this why?" I raised my eyebrow at her.

"I know it's shocking, Jessie, but people can find out the requirements for majors without actually going to college." She gave a theatrical gasp and I kicked her again. "So I take it I was right?"

"Yeah, we do have to learn how to play the piano," I informed her with an absentminded nod. Apparently that hadn't always been the case. Ms. K had just used a pitch pipe to give us starting pitches and we had to figure it out from there.

"How goes that, then?"

"Horribly. I have no talent with that thing," I admitted wearily. I turned a playful, accusatory look on her. "I blame you for making me think it was easy."

"When did I ever say learning to play instruments was easy?" she inquired, acting overly-baffled, even going so far as to spread her arms in disbelief. I rolled my eyes at that, trying not to smile. "I just said playing them was easy. And I've played piano for twelve years, so of course it would be easy for me."

"You are such a show-off," I shook my head at her, pursing my lips in disapproval.

"It's hard not to be." She leaned back in her seat, resting her elbows on the back of the chair, revealing the way her tight camisole and leather vest flattered her form. I had no doubt in my mind that that was her intention. "I have so much to show off." Rachel shot me a cocky grin. I glanced back down at my half-eaten cookie to keep from meeting her intense gaze. "So. If you're having trouble learning to play piano, maybe I could tutor you or something?" And my eyes immediately snapped back up to her earnest expression.

"That depends," I said slowly, purposely stalling. "Where do you live? I can't drive up to like Savannah or wherever more than maybe once a month." Honestly, I was kinda hoping she did live far enough away that I could claim distance to be the reason I couldn't accept. Honestly, I did need the help, but I wasn't sure being alone with Rachel for extended periods of time was a good idea. Particularly not when I could so easily see the tender affection in her words and gaze.

"West Valdosta." And of course things couldn't go my way for once. Why make things easy?

"Hm. Maybe." I took a bite from my cookie to give me an excuse not to elaborate immediately.

"Why only maybe? I'm like five minutes away." She looked at me curiously, cocking her head to the side. "I'm free every afternoon from two to like... nine or ten."

I swallowed before answering, and even then, I didn't address the question. "From two to nine? Don't you have a job?" I inquired, raising my eyebrows at her. Even I had a part-time job, even though it was only the cashier at Barnes & Noble.

"I have a very nice job, thank-ya-very-much. I work from ten to four. Sometimes five."

"At night?" I clarified, baffled. "What on earth do you do from ten to five?"

She grinned easily. "I'm the DJ at a club. It's pretty much the most epic job ever."

I snorted softly. "You can't tease me about trying to be a teacher when you're a DJ," I informed her dryly.

Rachel rolled her eyes and shot me a fake frown. "Uh, until you can match beats, crossfade to songs in relative keys, and know how to operate a synthesizer and a talk box, you're not allowed to diss my job," she declared, shaking her shaggy head at me and taking another drink from her tall cup.

"What's a talk box?" I inquired curiously. The name sounded familiar, but I couldn't remember what it was.

"You know what a talk box is," the rocker scoffed, giving me a dry look. "The guitarist used one at the Critical Acclaim concert."

I considered bringing up her 'hiatus,' then, but decided against it. I'll save that for another conversation. Then I shook my head a little; I was already making plans in my mind to see her again. "No, I don't think I remember," I replied absently to explain the little head shake.

"Yes you do. The plastic tube-thing he used for Blow Me Away?" She made a quick motion from her hip to her mouth once or twice, as if that would help me remember.

"Oh! Yeah, okay." I remembered now. I couldn't for the life of me recall what exactly it did, though. All I remembered was that it made the guitar sound weird. "Wait, why would a DJ need a talk box?"

"I'll have to drag you down to the club sometime so I can show you my set-up," Rachel decided absently. "It's hard to explain exactly." Then she gave a sudden, quick shake of the head. "How did we even get on this subject? I was asking you if you wanted me to help you with piano lessons." She looked at me expectantly.

"I don't know," I muttered hesitantly.

"Why not?"

"I don't have a lot of free time between college and – and my boyfriend." I wasn't sure why I added that last part, but I felt like I had to remind her that I wasn't a lesbian, and more importantly, that I was taken.

I instantly regretted the way I'd said it. Her expression didn't change, though a horrible pain appeared in her eyes, and she looked down. When she looked up again, I could no longer read her gaze. The whole deal hadn't taken any longer than a few seconds. She grinned impishly. "What's his name? And more importantly, is he cute?"

That surprised me for an instant. Right. Pansexual, I remembered suddenly, and glanced down with a slight, tired smile. It was hurting her, and she was still trying to be friendly. Maybe she and I could still be friends, I mused. That's what she'd been to me first – my friend. "His name's Derek. And, yeah, he's really cute, actually."

A/N: So I wasn't planning on posting this 'till Friday, but I haven't posted anything since the 7th and couldn't really come up with any updates for my other stories yet, so I'm going to go ahead and start updating OneGirl! :D Yaaay.