Chapter One: Hello
Ugh. There is nothing on. How in the hell do these old fogies even entertain themselves? Lauren thought as she sat in the paisley armchair in her great-grandmother's room, flipping through the unsurprisingly limited number of T.V. channels. When she finally found one that had an at least semi-tolerable show on, a commercial started within a few seconds, showcasing an actor who was all too enthusiastic about their new kitchen strainer, purse organizer, or hair regrowth treatment. Lauren did find it rather funny, however, that the idiots thought the spray paint they were putting on their head was the real thing. People are seriously dumbasses, she thought, turning up the volume as her great-grandmother snored obnoxiously next to her.
The reality show she had been watching the past couple of minutes ended, and a super-depressing weight loss commercial started to play. Normally, she changed the channel immediately when these annoying excuses for entertainment came on, but a "before" picture flashed across the screen, showing a large woman eating a bucket of fried chicken. Damn, that looks good, Lauren thought, her stomach growling and her mouth watering. It was time for some lunch. I wonder what the Old Bag is serving today…she thought as she got up to head for the usually nasty, but nonetheless food-filled cafeteria.
Turning left out of the door, she heard the faint strum of a guitar and a familiar singing voice coming from the other end of the wallpapered hall. Usually the nursing home was dead quiet, so Lauren was pretty surprised to hear music being played, let alone by a familiar-sounding person. It couldn't be him, she thought, slightly curious and surprisingly anxious at the thought of seeing him outside of school, He wouldn't be in a place like this, especially on a Saturday morning. Not that she cared too much about him—sure, he was supermegafoxyawesomehot, and had shown an increasingly eager interest in her in the past couple of weeks, but she couldn't see herself seriously considering him as a boyfriend or love interest; he was too much of a player, thinking he could get any girl to drop her panties in the snap of his guitar-playing fingers.
Nonetheless, her curiosity got the best of her, and she slowly made her way down the bright hallway; she probably looked ridiculous, tiptoeing down the hallway like a little girl, but she felt like she was about to spy on something that was meant to be a secret. Lauren stopped at the corner and leaned against the wall, listening to his admittedly sultry voice sing the lyrics to one of her favorite songs:
"When it's cold outside,
I've got the month of May.
I bet you'd say
'What could make me feel this way?'
My girl, my girl, my girl,
talkin' 'bout my gi-ir-irl, my girl…"
His voice sounded unusually sweet and smooth, and Lauren craned her neck to peek around the corner at the source of the gorgeous music. There stood Noah Puckerman, equipped with his acoustic guitar, whore lip pout, and a sexy black t-shirt that fit snugly to his perfectly-sculpted biceps. God, he is such a fucking fox, Lauren thought.
Puck circled a group of old ladies who had gathered around him, undoubtedly drawn to his innate swagger and damn-fine ass. Most of their mouths were hanging open, possibly drooling uncontrollably at the sight of him, but more likely because they were about 100 years old and had no control over their salivating glands. The room smelled like old people—stale pee—but Lauren's feet were rooted to the spot in the hallway.
As Puck finished the song, one of the feistier-looking ladies grabbed his ass and gave it a firm squeeze. Damn, those ladies are super-cougars, Lauren thought, Betty White-certified. Lauren laughed quietly at her own little joke, but quickly hid her face behind the corner of the hallway wall because Puck had heard a noise and looked in her direction. Oh shit. He saw me.
He must have not seen her or cared enough to come look, because he continued to address his elderly audience: "This is the last one, ladies. I've got a couple of pools to clean this afternoon."
Lauren immediately recognized the introduction to the song and began to hum along as Puck sang the opening lines of the Elvis song:
"Wise men say,'only fools rush in'…"
She found herself singing softly along to the classic tune and feeling slightly turned on by Puck's deep and sensual voice. Day-umm. He might not be a mixed race, Lauren thought, but this boy is muy caliente.
Puck finished the short song and Lauren took his farewell to the grannies as her cue to leave the hallway and head back to her Nana's room—the boy may be fine, but she didn't want him to catch her listening like a creeper at the corner of a nursing home hallway. Lauren hurried back down the hall, and was about to turn into the room when she heard Puck approach from behind her: "Zizes? What are you doing here?"
"None of your business, Puckerman," she said, with a little too much bite.
"Settle down. I was just asking what a badass bitch like you is doing at a nursing home on a Saturday morning."
"I was about to ask you the same thing."
"I have my reasons," Puck said quickly, obviously hiding something.
"Oh come on, Puckerman. Don't you have better things to do—cleaning pools, buying dip, impregnating otherwise chaste cheerleaders, maybe?"
"Very funny, Zizes...If you must know, I come here to practice. It's a total confidence builder. What's a better place to do that than somewhere filled with people who can't hear worth a damn?"
"Wow. That's super inspiring," Lauren said sarcastically.
"What? Older ladies are hot. I just turn on the charm, flash 'em a smile, maybe a hip thrust or two, and they slip me a twenty. Make more here in a morning than I do a week cleaning pools, easy. It's a win-win."
Lauren just stood there, shaking her head. God, this boy's totally ridiculous. But, somehow totally smokin'. Probably those arms. That badass Mohawk. Oh God, and those big, juicy whore lips. Damn, I'd like to wrestle those…Lauren's thoughts were interrupted by the rumbling sound of Puck's stomach.
"Wow, I'm getting pretty hungry. It's been six hours since I've eaten. You wanna go get some food, Zizes?"
Lauren waited a second before answering him, for good measure—she didn't want to seem too anxious to accept his request.
"Fine. But the food better be damn good. And don't think you're getting a cheap date outta this—I was gonna go eat lunch on my own anyways."
Puck seemed satisfied with her answer, and followed Lauren down the hallway to the nursing home cafeteria.