Noah Puckerman cannot figure out how it happened. One day he's peeping on Mrs. Thompson across the street through a very large, and quite possibly intentional, break in her blinds, and the next, he's sitting in his dad's old recliner watching his best friend making out with his girlfriend, and actually being bothered by it.

He stands by his locker, considers it. He can't figure it out. Maybe it was because when she kissed him back that night, he felt his knees go weak beneath him. Or maybe it was because no one else had ever found that spot on his neck before. Or could it have been the throaty way she said his name, her soft lips against this ear.

Yeah, maybe that was it.

She suddenly appears in the hallway, her pony tail bouncing happily behind her.

He wonders for a minute if she remembers the way it felt when he ran his fingers through her hair, because he sure as hell remembers the way he shivered when her fingernails gently ran down his neck.

She catches his gaze for a minute.

She'll never tell him her scalp still tingles from time to time.

She turns away, so he does too.

When the hell did this happen?

Was it when he tried one of his famous pick up lines on her, but all she did was simply roll her eyes? That night, she had stolen his wine cooler when he wasn't looking. Was that when?

The dulcet sound of his favorite giggle brings him back to the moment. His eye catches someone different. Finn. He's with her now, their fingers playfully intertwined.

She had traced circles on his abs with one of those perfectly manicured fingers that night.

He has tried to figure out ways to stop it. He thinks about everything that annoys him about her. Like her high pitched sneeze, and the way that she has to tidy his room anytime she steps into it.

Or the fact that she doesn't like him back.

They're kissing now, Finn and Quinn, William McKinley High's picture perfect couple.

She had bit his lip that night. He liked that. A lot.

This will go away, he knows for sure, watching as Finn's hand lovingly grips her waist.

Just because he loved the way she quietly moaned into his mouth when his hand ran up her thigh and the way she burrowed her head into the crook of his neck didn't mean that he couldn't get passed this.

The couple breaks apart and smile at each other. Finn takes her hand and they make their way down the hall in Puck's direction.

"Puck," Finn nods, stopping in front of him. She's clutching her books, looking annoyed at something behind him.

"Love birds," he retorts, chewing his gum animatedly. "You're both looking awfully virginal today."

"Real nice, Puck," Finn wraps his arm around Quinn's shoulders before escorting her farther down the hall. He turns around to watch them walk away. Or more specifically, watch her walk away. Her skirt sways gently as her hips move. Those hips. The ones he had gripped as she rocked into him. The ones he had steadied as she shook in her release. The ones he had dreamed about every night since that night.

This wasn't going away.

But as long as his ability to lie to everyone, including himself, didn't go away, he would be fine.

Fine.

That's what she had said to him the next day after football practice when he asked how she was.

Yeah.

Fine.