This summer job thing? It's turning out to be the best idea Puck ever had.

It started back in like, February, when Santana dragged his ass with her to the CPR class she was taking. Actually, she tricked him, lured him in with promises of finally letting him get at her in return for giving her someone to practice mouth-to-mouth on. Except then they got there, and they were all practicing on these dummy torsos (no arms, no legs), and she was giving him shit for thinking that she'd get down with a dude.

Whatever. You can't blame a guy for trying when the chick's that hot.

Then she was babbling a bunch of shit about getting her lifeguard certification because her dad was hiring at country club for the summer, and wouldn't it be great if they were lifeguards together? They could check out girls and get tans, and it would be a public service, really, spending all that time in bathing suits where everyone could see.

Fine. If he's being honest, the whole thing was Santana's idea, and she dragged him into it. It's cool though, 'cause they're bros, and she was totally right.

He decides this the day he starts teaching swimming lessons.

Puck was actually kind of pissed off about this swimming lessons stuff when he heard (Santana conveniently left it out when she was telling him about the job), especially when they gave the advanced group to Santana and Matt and Puck got stuck teaching the intermediate kids by himself. He's still a little surly about it the first morning, standing in the open-air office with the other lifeguards, listening to the receptionist check in the kids as they arrive, his back to the little window as he talks with Matt.

"Jesus Christ," Santana mumbles, nodding her head subtly towards the window when Puck looks at her.

He doesn't even bother to pretend that he isn't looking when he turns around and sees what (who) Santana's talking about.

She's got dark, wavy hair, which he notices just because the ends of it are grazing the top of her tits where her dress is cut low. He can tell it isn't meant to be sexy, this pink cotton dress with the little white sweater over it covering fuck all, but it totally is. Her face, when he looks, is good too, dark eyes and full lips and high cheekbones.

"Dibs," Santana says lowly behind him. He turns to smirk at her over his shoulder.

"Fifty says she's straight."

Santana rolls her eyes. "Fuck off." She pulls her tee shirt over her head, tosses it at his face, and walks out of the office.

The girl's gone when he turns back to the window, which sucks, but she just signed some kid in, so she'll be back, right?

He thinks that God must totally love him when he dismisses his group from their lesson and he watches Stevie and Stacy Evans run over to where the brunette with the legs (which are fucking hot, and this is totally how he's thinking of her) is sitting on a lounge chair under a blue-striped umbrella reading some book.

He doesn't bother to grab a towel when he lifts himself out of the waist-deep water and walks across the concrete to where they're standing. He reaches out to give Stacy's dripping braid a gentle tug. "Not bad out there, squirt."

Stacy wrinkles her nose as she looks up at him. "I'm a good swimmer."

It's dumb how much he likes this little girl, but he totally does. Sam's mom swears she has a crush on Puck, which he thinks is kind of adorable and awesome. "You'll be awesome when I'm done with you." He offers the brunette a smile, making sure that he looks at her eyes instead of her tits. "Hey. I'm Puck."

Her eyebrows go up just a tiny bit. "Rachel."

He watches Stevie struggle to pull his tee shirt over his head. "How'd you get wrapped up with these two?"

"My dad went to school with Mrs. Evans," she explains, helping Stevie get his head through the neck of his shirt. "Our families have been friends for years. I'm staying with them for the summer."

If Sam knew about this Rachel chick coming for the summer and didn't tell Puck, he's going to kick the dude's ass when he gets back from helping with disaster relief in Chile or wherever the hell. "That's awesome. Sam and I just graduated together, but he didn't mention anything about someone coming to stay."

"It was sort of last-minute. I'm not sure he knows."

"He'd have told me about you," he says lowly. He likes the way her cheeks turn just a little pink.

"Can we have popsicles after lunch?" Stacy interrupts.

Rachel smiles at the little girl, picks up her bag and hitches it up over her shoulder. "Sure, kiddo. That's my cue," she tells Puck, pushing a hand through her hair. "It was nice to meet you."

"Yeah." Fuck, she's hot. He wants to keep talking to her. "I'll see you around?"

She nods distractedly, handing Stevie the towel he's already abandoned on a lounge chair. "Sure." She pauses then, looks up at Puck, and smiles. "I'm sure we'll run into one another."

He's watching her walk away (shameless) when Santana comes to stand beside him. "Get shot down?"

He scoffs. "Just getting started, baby."


She's been to visit the Evans' home before for visits, with her fathers, and she always thought their town was nice enough. By the end of her first week here, she think this is the sort of place a girl could fall in love with if she let herself. It's a tourist town on a lake big enough for fishing and water sports and all sorts of outdoor things she isn't terribly interested in. There are tourist attractions and restaurants and quaint little shops; everything you could want, really, from a rural town. She knows there are "local" things though, like the restaurant where they had an amazing dinner a few nights ago. She wishes Sam wasn't away for the summer, because he wouldn't hesitate to show her these places.

Of course, if Sam wasn't away for the summer, she might not be here. She's being paid (a small amount, but still) to care for Stevie and Stacy while their parents are at work, something Sam would have done if he hadn't been accepted into this relief program. She'd overheard her dad on the phone with Regina talking about finding a nanny, and she'd jumped at the chance to get the hell out of Lima for the summer. She has just three months till she goes to New York, and she's thrilled not to be spending them at home after the way the last couple of months of school went.

It's an excellent arrangement. She's really only responsible for the kids when Jeff and Regina are at work during the day, so she has evenings and weekends largely to herself. She loves this family, and she's never had siblings or a mother, so it's almost like spending the summer with the family she always wanted to be a part of. And she's getting paid to do it.

Then, of course, there's the lifeguard at the country club who teaches the kids' swimming lessons. Puck.

He's attractive. Almost too attractive with his tan and his muscles and his smirk that she's already seen shift into a very charming smile. He also has his hair cut into a ridiculous mohawk and a ring through his left nipple that she's overheard some of the kids asking about. (She wishes she'd heard the answer just because she'd like to know how one explains something like that to small children.) Somehow, that doesn't detract from the rest of it, though it really should. He's also the sort of man who knows just how attractive he is, which Rachel generally finds off-putting.

But you see, it's summer. Her last summer before college, in fact, and she's away from home. This is the perfect opportunity for a summer fling, and she's willing to explore that possibility with Puck, even if he is unfairly handsome. Maybe because of that, if she's being honest.

She watches him during Friday morning's swimming lesson, her eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses as she peeks over the top of the novel she's pretending to read. There are worse ways to spend a morning than enjoying the sunlight and the view of a wet, attractive man interacting adorably with children.

Puck follows the kids to where Rachel's sitting after he ends the lesson, just like he has every time she's been here. (Three times. It definitely counts.) He waits until Stacy finishes telling Rachel about her backstroke to say anything. "You wanna do something tonight?"

Straight to the point, this one. She pushes her sunglasses up on top of her head and blinks at him slowly. "Do you really think I'm that easy, Puck?"

He doesn't say anything, but there's a grin on his face when he watches her pick up her bag and lead the kids towards the gate.

Just because she thinks he might be fun for a summer fling doesn't mean that she's going to just give it to him. He's going to have to work for it.


Puck's been emailing Sam all week, shamelessly fishing for information about Rachel. Dude's basically worthless, just tells Puck to leave her alone because she's like family, threatens to rearrange his face if he fucks with her, blah blah blah. That's fine because one, he's not worried about Sam's empty threats, and two, he doesn't know how he would even use any information Sam fed him. He's only seen her at the pool when she brings the Evans kids for swimming lessons, which means he's talked to her for a total of twenty minutes in ever.

But that shit she said this morning? Totally fucking hot. Also, totally an invitation to go after her. And that's cool. There's a fine line between girls who are teases and girls who are worth working for, and he's willing to put in a little effort to find out which sort Rachel is. He's just gotta figure out what the hell to do.

They clear the pool every hour during afternoons for "pool checks," which are really just excuses for the lifeguards to get down off their stands and take a break. A lot of local kids end up using this pool so they don't have to worry about strangers on the beach at the lake, and because the lake doesn't have lifeguards at all. Here there's security and shit, so they're plenty crowded with kids whose parents actually care about what they're doing. These little three minute breaks are the only thing that keeps him from pelting kids with Skittles while he's sitting up on his stand.

He's standing with Santana, bugging her for an idea of how to get shit started with Rachel. It's exactly what he's been doing on every one of their breaks, including the lunch they took together between the end of lessons and when the pool opened for the day. Everything she suggests is stupid, and he's in the middle of telling her that when she interrupts.

"You're fucking annoying," she tells him seriously. He can't see her eyes behind her sunglasses, but he knows that tone. She's glaring at him. "Just go over there and ask her to go somewhere. Put her on the spot in front of Sam's parents."

That's actually kind of an awesome idea, especially since Regina loves him. "You're the best, baby," he says, chucking Santana under the chin, ignoring the way she raises her eyebrows, before turning to walk back around the pool to his own stand.

He waits until after dinner to drive over to the Evans' house, a big brick place on the edge of town with a yard full of flowers that Regina's sort of crazy about. (He and Sam got into major shit one spring for digging up a giant bed of tulips when Sam read about a family surviving on tulip bulbs in some post-apocalyptic novel. Tulip bulbs taste like shit, for the record.) Puck's spent a lot of time here over the years, since he and Sam met in Mrs. Hoover's second-grade class and decided they were best friends. There's a giant TV in the media room in the basement, and out back there's about an acre of woods with a creek running through it and a clubhouse thing Jeff helped them build when they were ten that Stevie's taken as his own now that Sam and Puck have outgrown it. He knows how to sneak into - and out of - this house, and he's as comfortable hanging out here as he is at his own place.

It's kind of weird to be coming here, knowing that he isn't going to see Sam at all, even more so when when he pulls in and sees Sam's car parked under the oak tree next to the driveway just like always.

Whatever. He's here for Rachel. He's totally tricking her into it, but he's taking her out tonight even if she doesn't know it yet.

He knocks, then walks in without waiting for an answer, just like always. "Hello?" he calls out.

"Puck?"

He follows the sound of Regina's voice down the hall to the kitchen and finds her sitting at the kitchen table with Rachel. He can see Stacy and Stevie running around in the backyard through the French doors and figures that's why they're sitting there, keeping an eye on the kids or whatever. Regina's smiling like always, and Rachel's looking at him like there's a third arm growing out of the middle of his forehead. He digs it, actually.

"Stevie and Stacy haven't stopped talking about you all week," Regina says after she's invited Puck to join them and he's sitting beside Rachel at the table. "I didn't know you were teaching swimming lessons."

"Neither did I," he answers honestly. "I actually kind of like it though."

He watches Rachel out of the corner of his eye while Regina makes small talk with both of them, trying to read the expression on her face, but he can't tell what she's thinking at all.

"So what brings you over here, Puck?" Regina finally asks. He doesn't miss the way she glances at Rachel.

"I thought that maybe Rachel could use someone to show her around since Sam's gone," he answers simply, getting straight to the point. It's not a complete lie. It's not like Regina needs to know that banging this girl is his endgame. "If she's free."

Regina smiles. "That's so nice. I think it'd be good for you to get out of the house," she says to Rachel, pushing her chair back from the table. "You'll be here all summer, so it can't hurt to know your way around, make some friends."

"Of course," Rachel agrees with a smile. "But you certainly don't have to escort me, Puck."

He smirks. There's a tiny bit of sarcasm in her voice. "Nah, I want to."

"If you're sure." She looks amused, and she's totally onto him now, but he really doesn't care. He thinks she probably wants him, if he's been reading her right all week, and especially this morning, but she doesn't want to come off as desperate. He can appreciate the ego thing, and this saves hers. Plus, she's hot, and getting his dick wet is the goal. Unless she's a total fucking bitch - which he doesn't think she is - they'll at least manage to have some fun together.

"Great!" Regina says, standing and pushing her chair in. "Just give me a call if you're not going to sleep here." Regina must see the surprise on Puck's face (Sam's curfew was always crazy strict), because she says, "Rachel's an adult, and so are you. I expect you both to remember that and act like it." There's a stern look on her face, one he's seen a lot. Seriously, Regina's like his second mom.

"Got it."

"Have fun." She steps out the back door, shouting something across the lawn at the kids, leaving Puck and Rachel sitting alone together in the kitchen.

"This was unexpected," Rachel says, turning a little to face him with a little smile on her lips.

He grins. "You like surprises?"

"Not generally, no," she laughs. Well, fuck. "This is fine though, I suppose. What did you have in mind?"

He stands up, says, "C'mon," instead of answering her question, but she just sits there.

"Puck, I need to know if I'm dressed appropriately before we go anywhere."

He looks down at her, sitting at the kitchen table in an army green mini skirt and a plain gray tee shirt with a v-neck. Basically, she's all legs and just the tiniest hint at cleavage: She looks hot. "You look fine," he tells her, grabbing her wrist and tugging until she stands up. "Let's go."

"Fine. Let me go grab my bag."

"Nope." He's shaking his head. "You don't need a bag. Phone and keys, that's it."

She's looking at him like he's stupid. "Seriously, Puck? Where are we going?"

He rolls his eyes. "Calm your tits." Her mouth drops open, which is pretty funny, actually. "We're just going to hang at Santana's house." He walks away then, leaves her standing in the kitchen, though it only takes her a second to start following him.

"You're taking me to a house party?" She doesn't sound impressed.

"Yeah."


"I thought this was a hotel."

Puck grins, not even bothering to look over at her. "Nope."

"This is a house?"

"Santana's," he answers. "The lifeguard at the club, the Latina. Her house."

Rachel just shake her head, looking up at the house in front of her while Puck's Jeep practically creeps up the driveway, almost like he's giving her a chance to really take it all in, though she's probably making that up. It's enormous, three stories of pale brick and columns and a terrace and beautiful, obviously professional landscaping. Puck follows the driveway along the side of the house, revealing a handful of cars that are hidden from sight of the road, a road that apparently leads to this house and the country club and nothing else.

"What does her family do?" Rachel asks quietly when Puck turns off the car. The top is off, so she can't be sure who could be around listening, and she doesn't want to come off as rude for asking.

"Her dad owns, like, everything. The marina, the country club, a couple of restaurants and bars." He shrugs. "He isn't around a lot, but he doesn't give a fuck what we all do out here, so that's cool."

She doesn't say anything as he leads her towards the house, just tugs her fingers through her windblown hair and admires the urns filled with yellow and pink petunias that line the patio.

Admittedly, she was impressed when he walked into the kitchen at the Evans'. She'd thought that telling him she wasn't easy this morning at the pool would be the end of things. Maybe he'd still flirt with her when she brought the kids for their swimming lessons, but he wouldn't try to get her alone again. Clearly, she was wrong.

This house is more than impressive. It's gorgeous on the outside, and when he leads her through a set of french doors and into a sun room filled with houseplants, and on through to a kitchen that's all stainless steel and marble, she decides that it's spectacular.

She's not quite convinced that bringing her to a house party is the best move on his part, even in this house. She's reserving judgment though, until she sees how he behaves tonight.

By midnight, she's made up her mind.

As soon as it got dark, two-thirds of the not-very-many people who were at the party left to go skinny dipping at someplace called "the point," and Rachel has seen at least three couples disappear up the stairs and behind closed doors. It's mostly quiet, just music drifting through the speakers on the obviously expensive sound system and the occasional shout or giggle from the next room where a handful of people are watching a scary movie. She's sipping a screwdriver made with Belvedere and orange juice Santana assured her is fresh-squeezed, sitting at a table playing rummy, of all the card games in the world, with three people she barely knows.

It's been ages since she's had this much fun, if she's being honest with herself, and it's just a little strange.

"What about you, Rachel?" Artie asks, laying some cards on the table in front of him. He's just finished talking about how he'd gotten his housing information back from Duke this morning.

"I'll be in New York City," she answers, taking a sip of her drink. She mixed it herself - has been all night - so it's very weak, and she's barely even tipsy. Call her over cautious, but she isn't interested in being drunk with a bunch of strangers in a town she barely knows.

"NYU?" Santana asks.

Rachel draws a card from the deck in front of her, lays down a trio of nines. "Juilliard, actually." She keeps her eyes on her cards, studiously ignoring the looks she's getting from around the table.

She's spent years - her whole life, really - being the girl who sings. She loves it, but she'd thought that maybe, just this summer, she could just be Rachel. But she doesn't want to lie, and the question itself is innocent enough. Besides, she already knew the conversation was heading this way; Santana brought it up, talking about Brown and how she couldn't wait to get away from this 'narrow-minded shithole,' and Puck mentioned the state university a couple of hours away from here he'll be attending.

Santana narrows her eyes a bit as she looks at Rachel. "Are you some, like, crazy piano prodigy?"

Rachel can't help smiling. She's decided that she likes Santana, not in spite of her crassness and apparent lack of inhibition, but because of them. It's rare to find that in a girl her age, and she likes it. "I sing," she answers simply, even though her usual response to such a question would include mentions of Broadway and Barbra and the bevy of awards she intends to earn.

Santana just nods before tipping back the last of her drink. "Can we quit playing this shit? I need a refill and it's fucking boring."

Puck snorts. "Just 'cause you're losing."

She flips him off as she pushes away from the table, and Artie gets up to follow, mumbling something about his own cup being empty.

Puck leans towards her, plucking the cards from her hands and tossing them into the middle of the table. "You sing?" She just nods, looking sideways at him. "That's hot."

She laughs but doesn't say anything, because really, what is she supposed to say to that? Thank you? Instead, she looks over to the bar, where Santana and Artie are laughing about something, the girl nearly falling over when Artie hip checks her and snatches away the bottle she's pouring from. "Are they..?"

Puck glances over his shoulder and chuckles a little. "Uh, no. Santana plays on the other team." He slides one finger up the back of her hand, which feels better than she thinks it should. "Let's get out of here."

She tilts her head at him. "Are you propositioning me?"

He bites his lip and lets his gaze drop down to her chest before meeting her eyes again. "Would you go for it?" He grins when she smiles slowly and shakes her head. "Then no."

She really can't help the little laugh that comes from the back of her throat.

They say good night to Santana and Artie, and Rachel doesn't comment when Puck puts his hand on the small of her back to lead her across the back lawn to the car, partially because it seems petty to comment and partially because she likes the way it feels.

"What'd you think?" he asks, turning the car onto the main road.

He has the top off his Jeep, making the wind whip her hair around as he picks up speed. She gathers it in one hand, pulls it over her right shoulder and holds it there. "I like your friends," she answers honestly, watching him as he drives. "And you're slightly less full of yourself than I thought."

He gives her a faux-wounded look, pouting a little. "Just slightly?" He grins over at her when she giggles. "That enough to convince you to spend some time with me?"

"I can't believe you just showed up at the house," she says instead of answering his question.

He keeps his eyes on the road when he says, "I didn't have a lot to lose. Worst case scenario, you told me to get lost."

"And the best cast scenario?" She can't stop herself from asking, even though she's immediately dreading his answer.

"Ends with me knowing what you look like when you come," he answers without hesitating.

Good lord.

She doesn't say anything, just tries not to notice how warm her cheeks are and hopes that he can't see the blush on her cheeks in the darkness.

He cuts the engine when he parks in the Evans' driveway.

"Thank you. I had a lot of fun." She's being sincere instead of just polite; she is grateful that he took a chance, not a little bit because she learned more about him in this one night than she would have in weeks of post-swim lesson flirting.

"Sure." He reaches over to push a loose strand of hair off her forehead. "Give me your number."

He just has the most ridiculous way of speaking to people, but she honestly can't help laughing. He adds a 'please,' but the way he's grinning is proof that he's only saying it because he thinks she expects him to. She doesn't say anything, just holds out her hand until he gets the hint and gives her his phone so she can program her number in.

"Thanks."

She climbs out of the car, closing the door gently behind her. "Good night, Puck."

She tries not to wonder what it would be like to kiss him while she's walking up the path, but fails miserably, especially since he's just sitting there in his car, watching her unlock the front door. She wants him to work just a tiny bit harder for it, that's all.

Her phone is buzzing on her bedside table when she finishes washing her face and brushing her teeth. She knows it's a text from Puck, so she crawls into bed before she checks her messages.

still thinking about that best case scenario.