It started with a duet.

You weren’t even planning to audition for a solo, but Jesse St. James had strutted into McKinley like he owned the auditorium—because, somehow, he did. Vocal Adrenaline was on break, and suddenly, he was in your drama class, slinging Shakespeare and show tunes like it was his stage.

And Rachel Berry wasn’t happy.

At first, you didn’t notice. Jesse was charming, ridiculous, cocky—but when he sang with you for a class assignment, something shifted. He didn’t do the usual spotlight-hogging. He actually… listened. Matched your breath. Watched your eyes.

After rehearsal, you sat on the stage steps, breathless from “Come What May.”

“That was electric,” Jesse said, offering you a crooked grin.

You laughed. “It’s Moulin Rouge. It’s supposed to be dramatic.”

He tilted his head. “No. You. You’re electric.”

And that’s when you noticed Rachel. Just offstage, arms crossed, pretending not to watch.

The next few days, everything spiraled fast. Jesse started showing up more—sharing playlists, walking you to class. He invited you to Breadstix “strictly as friends,” but his hand lingered a little too long when he touched yours.

And Rachel? She grew colder with every hallway interaction.

One afternoon, she cornered you in the choir room.

“You know he’s just doing this to get under my skin,” she said flatly.

You blinked. “What?”

“Jesse. He always has a plan. You’re just… a distraction.”

It stung, worse than you thought it would.

You confronted Jesse in the parking lot, your voice tight. “Are you using me to mess with Rachel?”

He stared at you for a beat, all theatrics gone. “I wouldn’t blame you if you thought that. But no. Rachel and I were a thing—past tense. You? You’re real.”

“But you still care about her.”

He hesitated. “Maybe part of me always will. She’s… Rachel. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

You crossed your arms. “So what is this, then?”

Jesse stepped closer. “It’s the first time I’ve ever wanted the spotlight to be shared.”