She should have seen it coming earlier, Rachel thinks, blowing her nose into a fistful of tissues. She grimaces when she sees a few drops of snot and throws the tissues in the trash bin near her. A small hiccup escapes her, and she forces herself to look in the mirror, her eyes red rimmed from crying. She has spent several periods crying in the girl's bathroom, the one hidden on the sixth floor where no one ever comes due to its location. After the argument with Finn, and the discovery that he had slept with Santana, she had made herself scarce, even skipping the rest of her classes in order to get herself together. It was little use, she thinks, smiling wryly in spite of herself. She still looks similar to a mess.
Looking away from her reflection, she glances at her watch, realizing that Glee Club is due to begin soon. She is not a hundred percent sure that she wants to attend this afternoon's session, unsure if she wants to see Finn and Santana, not necessarily in that order. Biting her lip, she knows that there are several choices in front of her but only one of them will prove to be the correct one. Washing her face, she swallows another round of tears and exits the bathroom. Straightening her spine, her pace quickens as she gets closer to the practice room. Stars on Broadway don't cancel performances for heartbreak, she won't either. Her backbone will be made of steel, unyielding to the heartbreak of a careless boy.
Walking into the room, she resolves to hold her head high, and to not allow anyone to see her crumble. The facade should last her until the session is over, she thinks, momentarily brightened until she sees that Finn is the only one who is in the room, and though it kills her inside, she sits on the other side of the row from him. Normally, she would attempt to continue their conversation from earlier but the afternoon's tears have sapped her of her energy, and she isn't in the mood to return for seconds. Straightening her skirt, her eyes stare down at the green ruffles circling the edges. She loved this skirt when she first bought it, Finn's face had instantly popped into her mind and she plopped down the money for the purchase without a second thought. She wore it to school the next day, the first time he kissed her while with Quinn. At that thought, a wave of fury bubbled over. She's grown weary of his victim act. They've both engaged in similar things, haven't they?
She whirled her body around to face him, and Finn says nothing, twiddling his thumbs as he waits for her to speak.
"I made one mistake, one mistake that I am apologizing for, and one mistake you're refusing to forgive me for even though we both know you've done this yourself before."
Finn stares back confused, clearly perplexed at her comment. She taps her foot impatiently, waiting for his response and when none comes, she fills in the blanks for him.
"You kissed me while still involved with your previous girlfriend," she added, throwing a hand up when his mouth motions to speak. The image of the auditorium kiss flashes in her mind, enveloping her heart with hurt again, as if the pain never healed the first time. "The only difference between me and you is all the lingering glances you shot my way, the kisses you tried to steal, all while with Quinn. You're acting like I consistently cheated on you when I had one kiss to feel better about you with Santana."
The potential for a conversation arrives at an abrupt halt when the rest of the club slowly filters in, and she turns back around to face Mr. Schuester. Normally, she is annoyed by Schuester's droning and his refusal to give her a solo performance during the practices but she is oddly grateful for it today. She looks relatively normal, and her voice is unlikely to crack with emotions, but she prefers the silent treatment this afternoon. If she were to sing, she would expect a solo that would convey the emotion present but she is doubtful that she would be offered one similar to that. She doesn't raise her hand when Mr. Schuester assigns roles in the practice performance, clasping her hands tightly to prevent a retort. She has no encounter with Finn nor Santana either, only once when she mistakenly makes eye contact with the girl, looking away before she could catch the smirk. Nobody else speaks with her either, and she is nearly positive that they are all avoiding eye contact as well.
Dropping by the bathroom one last time, she gives herself a nod in the mirror, pleased with how she handled the practice. It passed better than anticipated, she did not break apart in front of observant eyes. She walks briskly to her car, her feet pounding into the pavement as her thoughts direct her to what tomorrow would bring, what solos she will request. Despite everything that happened earlier this morning, the ache inside her feels marginally lighter at the thought of performing the following day.
"Hey, Berry," Puck said, shooting her a smirk, his long frame leaning against her car.
Narrowing her eyes, she glances around to prepare herself for an ambush. She's gotten used to the lack of slushies thrown her way that she has stopped carrying a change of clothes to school. Plus, her car was recently dry cleaned and the sticky sugar would leave another mark, earning her a return trip.
"Nah, nothing like that, Berry. I need a ride home."
She motions for him to move from the driver's door so she could put in her keys. He barely moves, and she stares him down with a frustrated glare. He's destroying the remnants of the good mood that she possessed only moments earlier.
"Couldn't you ask one of your fellow Neanderthals? I'm sure they'd be thrilled to offer their services."
"All left," he replied, and she sees him wink behind her, having finally shifted his body to stand directly behind her instead. "Plus, I'm on your way. Be a good citizen. Us Jews have to stick together."
She rolls her eyes, but his comment regarding their shared religion tugs at her insides, and she gestures to the passenger side. "Whatever, Puck. Just get in and don't talk."
"How do you fit inside here?" He asked, fidgeting inside the small vehicle in hopes of making room for his legs. Each position is more uncomfortable than the last and he finally clamps his legs together, hopeful that the tingling in his legs will soon subside.
"I fit just fine, thank you. You're welcome to walk if you don't."
Shrugging his shoulders, he fastens his seat belt and checks his reflection in the side mirror. "I'll make do."
The car ride is relatively quick, both living close to the school and only blocks apart from each other. She wonders why he couldn't walk the quick blocks but then she realizes that they live in the middle of nowhere; there is no such thing as a quick block. Pulling up to his house, she stares out her window, waiting for him to exit the vehicle. When the silence has grown uncomfortable, she looks over at him expectantly.
"We're at your house, you know."
He nods in acknowledgment but makes no move to leave.
"You're just going to sit here?"
Ignoring her, he clasps his hands behind his head, and leans back in the seat. He looks slightly uncomfortable, his legs cramped in one direction but his face has a different expression, something akin to contentment, settled. She purses her lips in disagreement at his behavior but says nothing. Ordinarily, she wouldn't even be in this position, never even entertaining the idea of giving him a ride but it's been a long day, she'll take all the company she could get. What else is there to do, anyway, she thought to herself, go home and cry to Streisand with ice cream? Even she can admit how ridiculous the idea sounds in her head.
Her thoughts are interrupted when he opens his eyes, and sits up straight, gazing intently at her. She's always possessed a fondness for his eyes, how easily the green and brown merge to expose the emotion hidden beneath. It's one of his strongest features, she once made a mental note to inform him of such and then promptly forgot.
"You're not bad, Berry," he says finally, eliciting a chuckle from her. They have been sitting in the car for close to twenty minutes, and these are the words that he chooses to break the silence with.
"Not bad, eh? I'm flattered by your choice of description, very kind words. Thank you."
Rolling his eyes, he cracks his knuckles and the pair elapse into silence once again. Time is turning late but she is hesitant to ask him to leave; this is the nicest he has been to her since their brief dalliance. Given her current situation, and a lack of friends to discuss her day with, niceties is what she is currently in need of.
"For what it's worth, Finn's a tool. Santana's a hot lay and all but there's not much else underneath the hood. Trust me, I've been there."
Rachel bites her lip to stifle a laugh at his description. "That's vulgar."
"Also true, babe. He's only going to be stimulated in one area."
A hand immediately flew to her mouth, and she tries to catch herself but she can't help but laugh hysterically at the image. He smiles at her, and she feels oddly comforted, like a pool of warmth is developing at the bottom of her stomach and running upwards. Running her fingers through her hair, she shakes her head slightly to clear the lightheaded feeling from her body.
"Don't let him affect you, okay? He's my boy and all but you're made for bigger things, Berry," he adds, continuing to smile at her. "Bigger and brighter." He opens the door without waiting for a response, and walks over the front of her car, adjusting his book bag over his shoulder. She observes him walk away from her, shrinking further and further into the darkness when a thought struck her. Rolling down the window, she shouts his name and waits for him to turn around prior to saying anything.
"You're not terrible yourself, Noah."
Even in darkness, she can see evidence of a lopsided grin on his mouth before he turns to jog back up the walkway. The porch lights immediately turn on, and she waves to his mother when she opens him the door. Smiling to herself, she waits a beat prior to putting her car in drive, and slowly drives down the street.