UnREAL (TV)

There was no telling with Quinn. Whatever it was— this thing they shared— it was spotty at best.

It was no coincidence that it had always been Quinn’s couch on which Rachel had ended up when her head felt like it was in ten different places at once, Quinn to whom Rachel had disclosed that which she feared would deem her unlovable to any other pe...

She couldn’t remember smashing the monitor. Couldn’t remember the shards of glass tearing at her flesh. Couldn’t remember the exact moment at which the heel of her left shoe snapped.

Rachel isn’t normally this way— unfeeling, lifeless. When Rachel’s mother strolls in her wake, Quinn truly shouldn’t be surprised at the way Rachel’s eyes stare, cold. And yet, she’s thrown.

When Quinn extends her hand to Rachel on the lawn chair next to her, the cigarette between her fingers glows hot orange. Her temples feel sticky even with the air cold as it is. She watches Rachel hug herself, watches her inhale, lips wrapping around...

This is not who Quinn wants, this is not who Rachel wants to be.