Hi! This is my first story. English is not my first language, so please, keep that in mind. Criticism is welcome. If someone wants to beta read my stories or simply point grammar mistakes, I would be very grateful. Glee is not mine, you all know it!
She was pinning for Finn again. She always went to places he was at, just hoping he would notice her. She would spend days nervously preparing the perfect outfit, daydreaming that he would realize dumping her was a mistake by simply looking at her perfect form.
But he would always be polite to her, smile a little, uncomfortably, and spend the night talking to someone else. As if she didn't matter at all.
It was pure torture. And it was partially her fault. It wasn't that he was ever rude to her. He just. Didn't. Care. As if she was invisible, as though that time they had together was so far off in his memory he couldn't even remember it.
And still, she went to those glee club parties she knew he would be at.
She had tried focusing on something else. She always saw herself as someone with priorities, not prone to making a fool of herself because of a boy. She was brilliant and had a promising future. She should just forget about him.
But still, every time she was sick and he wouldn't bother asking her what was going on killed her a little on the inside. And even though it had been almost a year since they had broken up, Finn sneakily appeared on her thoughts. It was torture and unnerving.
Here she was, at another party, wearing a brand new dress she was sure she looked perfectly hot in. Wearing loads of make up that gave her a much more mature and refined look and feeling quite fake with it all. Wondering if it would smudge if she cried. Wondering if he would even notice if she left the party to go cry at home.
What suffered the most because of all this drama was, of course, the red paper cup that she held on for dear life. It had some vodka with something – juice, maybe – that she had taken in a desperate attempt to make herself calmer. Or more confident. Or less caring, she didn't know which. It made her a little numb, kind of sleepy and even worse off. What a scene. Sitting on the stairs with a $400 lacy black dress, leaning her head against the wall like some drunk, stupid cow.
Nobody else seemed uncomfortable. Nobody else seemed to care about anything. They just seemed like they were having fun, talking about amenities and completely forgetting about whatever trouble aisles them. "I'm the only one stupid enough to not get a life of my own in here".
Her thoughts and observations of the room were, however, interrupted by the appearance of a Noah Puckerman looking smartly dressed with a black shirt and black jeans. Bad boy style. His thing. "Uh, excuse me, you're blocking my view"
" I think you've stared enough at Finn's ass for a month."
Rachel opened her mouth, shocked, and got up quickly, ready to put her finger on Puck's nose and tell him to go butt – no pun intended – somewhere else.
"Relax, Berry. I was just wondering how drunk you were, sitting down there, looking all sorts of high."
"I'm not high! I'm not drinking" – she looked at the cup she was currently holding. "Oh, this tastes awful" and shoved her drink towards Puck, who grabbed it wordlessly, a knowing smirk on his face.
"Sure. Don't you want me to hold your hair for you?" He winked at her.
She huffaed. "Good night, Noah." And with that she resolutely went up the stairs, to get her purse, which was stashed at Britanny's room, and leave for the night. Brit's parents had gone out of town and she had taken the opportunity for this little soiree.
Britanny's room was all shades of pink and filled with delicious stuff. Well, they seemed delicious for Rachel. It was full of life. Filled with pictures of her in the cheering squad, with trophy's, laughing with Santana, with her mom as a little kid. And there was Rachel, a brunette who didn't seem to have the right shade of hair, or skintone, or stomach firm enough for people to ever recognize her value. She sung so well, and she knew it, but it seemed like no one else thought that to be of much value. So she took to walking a lonely path, kind of a self-righteous, jaded, sometimes angry, path. Clutching her purse close to her body, Rachel pushed those thoughts aside and walked out of the room, her head high once more, ready to go home with dignity. Ready to cooly say goodbye to someone who would be standing close to Finn, claiming that the party was great but that she had other plans for tonight and a very, very busy day tomorrow. And make sure he overhears it, too.
But as she walked past Britanny's bathroom, she saw, out of the corner of her left eye, a perfume on top of the sink. A perfume that Finn used to wear, that she had given him as a Christmas gift. Oh no, she thought, holding her forehead on her thumb and index fingers, massaging as thought she was getting a headache. Maybe she was getting a headache.
She looked again at the offending perfume. It was dark inside of the bathroom. Why was it that she had had to see it? It was barely visible and she hadn't even been staring directly towards the sink. Unable to hold herself any longer, she walked inside the bathroom, rested her back against the cold tiles and let herself slide till she sat on the floor. At first, she just stared with impatience at the offending bottle. And then she started to cry. Hard.
She thought of how unfair that whole thing was. Why was it that she had to feel like that? She was so sick of all of those feelings. She was sick of hating Finn for things he did a long time ago; was sick of hating every girl that Finn dated or considered. She only wanted to look at him again and see just another person, not a terrible monster at times and the perfect guy every other minute. She thought about how crazy that sounded. She suddenly stopped crying and laughed a little at the patheticness of it all. "Yeah, that's all that's left for me. Crazyness and a lifelong prescription of Prozac"
With that, she got up and decided she had had enough of that self pity. Checking herself in the mirror to make sure no one would see she had cried – thank God for waterproof makeup! – she grabbed her purse and opened the door.
Only to find herself staring at the same hard stomach that had blocked her view from Finn's butt a little earlier.
"Are you okay, Berry?"he said, arms crossed in front of his chest in an almost patronizing manner. "Are you sure you don't want me to hold your hair for you?"
She took a deep breath, almost out of patience and put both hands in his chest, to push him away. "Look, Noah – I'm fine. I'm not drunk, I haven't so much as sipped that cup and I'm leaving in a cab. Now stop pretending you care and let's act normally, okay? I'm tired enough without you playing games with me." And with that she made to leave, but he held on gently to her right hand, effectively stopping her in her tracks.
She looked back at him, expecting to see more mockery in his eyes, but instead she saw a strange look that reminded her of those times when they dated and he would take her to the carnival on Sundays and she would eat ice cream and they would both laugh.
And that, that memory, made her stop in her tracks and consider him with a little more care. For old times ' sake.
He got a little closer to her, looked right in her eyes and said softly "I'm just wondering why is it that the prettiest,hottest girl in this party spent all night alone in a corner". She looked at him, seriously. Considering. Evaluating. And what she saw was a look of longing. A look of wanting that once again had her stopping in her tracks and taking in what was in front of her.
And it resulted in her cornering him unexpectedly against the wall, grabbing his head between both her hands and kissing him fiercely. He was pretty quick to respond, apparently not taken by surprise at all, and rolled them over so that he was the one pinning her against the wall.
His actions at this turn of events made what was at first something exciting done by impulse into a kiss that was hazy and that aroused her profoundly. His hand flew to her waist, and while she went all over his back, head, and neck, she pressed herself fully against him, her breath coming out in short gasps whenever he took his mouth to her neck.
And just as quickly as it had started, it suddenly stopped, both still kind of shaky, looking at each other's eyes. She held her hand to his cheek in a sort of affectionate, light way, and he breathlessly stared at her, as though waiting for her or his own next move. And on those brief seconds Rachel thought, really quickly, of how making out with Finn was always sweetly naughty, whilst this had been a much more involving, mature, explicit exchange.
"Later, Puckerman" She said cooly, finally leaving the corridor of the second floor of Brit's house to go down the stairs. She walked out with a little smirk in her lips that mimicked his own, his body still in the same position on which she had left him.
"Maybe, just maybe, I don't have to feel like crap all the time" she thought, as she said her goodbyes to Britanny, barely acknowledging the presence of Finn who had been just a meter away from the hostess.