He had kissed Rachel once when they were kids. Not in high school; that was something different, but when they were eight he kissed her on the playground.

It was after school, and everyone had been released for the day. Most had to wait for their parents to pick them up so they would gather on the school playground to blow off some energy while a couple of the teachers grabbed a smoke break. Most of them would just sit and chat, some of them would disappear. It didn't matter much to anyone because all they cared about was who was going to get on the see-saw that day.

Their playground was pathetically small. Two sets of swings, a wooden play-scape, monkey bars, a grassy area to kick balls around, concrete to play hopscotch, and then one single see-saw. It was the most popular thing to play on, and almost everyone raced for it every recess. The older, bigger kids always won of course, but that didn't stop some people from trying.

Like Rachel. She never stopped trying. Even when her skinny legs couldn't carry her fast enough, she always ran for it. Puck, however, never tried for it. He knew he'd get it if he did but after getting it the first few times it got boring. So he always watched the race instead as he leaned against one of the wooden poles. He liked watching Rachel race for it. He liked the way she looked so determined, and how she never gave up, even when the big kids got it. Most of the time she would roll her eyes, sigh, and stomp away to go sit in the grass with her notebook.

But one day, she didn't.

Puck could remember it so clearly now, as if it had just happened yesterday. He had been watching Rachel, like usual, and like usual she had been running towards the see-saw only to be outrun by Kevin Sanchez – a hefty ten-year old who was spoiled and mean. He normally won by pushing other kids down or threatening them.

This time, he couldn't threaten Rachel. She threw her notebook down and stomped straight for him. Puck couldn't hear what she was yelling from where he was, but he could see her. Her face got so red and splotchy, and the more she seemed to be yelling the more the kids around them began to notice. Even Kevin seemed alarmed at first, but then began making his way towards her. And Puck did not like the look on his face.

Before Puck could reach them Kevin had pushed Rachel to the ground. She skinned her knee and began to cry, but as her lip quivered Puck could tell she was trying hard not to. It wasn't until he was closer that he began to get really angry.

"And your dads are gay, which means you're gay. How come you don't have a mom? Is it because you're ugly? I bet that's what it is. Gay Rachel, Ugly Rachel..."

"Hey! Leave her alone, Sanchez!"

Kevin pulled back slightly, alarmed to see Puck there so suddenly. Puck had stepped in between them and his fists were balled up tight. Kevin knew about Puck's temper, and although he was a few inches taller and bigger, he didn't exactly want to get into it with Puck. Not in front of the entire school. But he wasn't going to just back down either.

"That little monster should know her place," he growled at Puck.

Rachel stood up behind Puck. Her limbs felt shaky and blood was dripping from her knee down her leg. Her dark hair was twisted, and her hands were dirty. Puck was too distracted that before he realized what she was doing it was too late. She had walked around Puck and stood in front of Kevin. She bent her right leg back and kicked as hard as she could. It only reached Kevin's thigh but it was enough to make him stumble back. His cheeks reddened with embarrassment. He blinked, and then reached for her only to be punched by Puck.

Everything was still for a few seconds. Nobody moved as they watched Kevin fall to the ground, his cheek cut open. It wasn't until they heard a teacher's voice yell out to them that everyone scattered.

Puck immediately grabbed Rachel's hand. "Come on!" He tugged her, and together they ran for the trees that lined around the elementary school. He made her run until they were a couple of blocks away from the school, hidden by the trees that grew there.

They sat together against an old tree, breathing heavily. Rachel couldn't remember the last time she just ran like that. After she caught her breath, she looked over at him. "Thanks, Noah."

Puck looked back at her. "Well, I wasn't going to let him hit you."

"You didn't have to do anything though."

"I know," Puck said quietly. He hoped she wasn't going to get all girly on him. "How's your knee?"

Rachel inspected it, wiping the line of blood away. "It's okay. I think I've had worse in dance class."

"Is that why you can kick so hard? Because of dancing?"

"I guess so," Rachel smiled, a little proud of herself.

Puck smiled back, then pushed himself up from the ground. "I think we're safe now. Come on," he extended her hand to her.

Rachel, still cautious because Puck never spoke more than a few words to her, placed her hand carefully in his and let him help her up. "How did you know to run here?"

"Sometimes I need to get away from home for a while," he shrugged. "Been coming here for a while. It's nice."

Rachel looked around them. The old trees towered over them, the low sunlight peeking through the leaves and branches. "It's beautiful."

Puck looked at her. He wanted to tell her what he was thinking, but changed his mind at the last moment. "Yeah. I guess it is. Come on, I'll walk you home."

They walked out of the woods, and started towards her neighborhood. It was only a few blocks from Puck's house. She started chewing on her bottom lip, wondering what she would tell her dads when she got home. No doubt they'd be worried about her. Or more than likely upset that she ran off. She would tell them the truth about what happened on the playground, but not where she went afterward. That was a secret she would guard always. Suddenly, she stopped walking. "Oh no!"
Puck, alarmed by her suddenly outburst, immediately started looking around for Kevin. "What? What is it?"

"I forgot my notebook at school! I dropped it when I fell and I forgot to pick it up again."

"Oh, that's it?" Puck sighed. "Jesus, Berry. You scared me. I'm sure the teachers won't care if you lost your homework. You're like, teacher's pet or something right?"

"No, it's not homework!" Rachel's lip quivered and her eyes started to tear.

"Why are you crying?" Puck didn't know how to handle emotions like this well. His mother wasn't the kind to be openly affectionate, and even at nine, when he should have been more open to it, he just wasn't.

"Because, because it has personal stuff in there. Stuff about.." she stopped, hiccuping. She didn't want to share too much.

Puck scratched the back of his head. He couldn't understand why she was getting so upset. "Look, it's starting to get dark. I need to get home before my mom whips my ass again, and your dads are probably upset that you're not home yet. We gotta go before they call the cops or something."

Rachel sniffled. "Noah, don't cuss." She said it softly, but followed him anyway. She couldn't help being sad about losing her notebook and she just hoped it would be there for her to find before school tomorrow. She couldn't risk it getting into the wrong hands.

As they approached her driveway Puck stopped at the end. Although Rachel's dads had always been kind to him he was sure they wouldn't waste that kindness on him if they thought he was the reason for getting hurt. Rachel turned towards him. "Thanks again, Noah. You didn't have to do what you did." She was about to turn away when Puck put his hand on her arm.

"Hey Berry," he started. "I don't think about you, like what Kevin said. I mean, I don't think you're like those things. Your dads, they're pretty cool, and I don't think you're ugly."

Rachel smiled brightly. It was the first time Puck would get to see that smile of hers, the one that lit up whenever she would be truly happy or excited about something. He would see it many times throughout the years later, but never like this. Rachel moved closer to him. She rolled to her toes and reached up, placing the smallest kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, Noah." Then she disappeared inside.

Puck stood there, blinking. His cheek felt warm where she kissed him. It felt like that the entire way to the playground. It still felt like that when he bent down and picked up the dirty notebook. He had planned to give it to her when he saw her in school. Only he started reading it on the way home, and by the time he had shut himself in his bedroom he didn't think he could let go of her words. Of how sad she was to be without a mom, and the sad poems and songs she wrote. She wrote of things that he felt without his dad around, and for the first time he didn't feel alone. So he shoved the red notebook under his mattress, vowing to give it back tomorrow because he didn't want Rachel to be sad without it and it was too easy to cling to it.

Only he never did give it back. Not for a long time.

He doesn't know why he thought of the first time Rachel smiled at him, or the first time she kissed his cheek. He starts to think it's from the actual shock of seeing her there so suddenly. He had been in New York for weeks, and they still hadn't crossed paths. He knew she was here. Had known before he even bought his bus ticket. Hell, it was practically all they spoke about in their last conversation together. He also saw the fliers posted around about her upcoming plays. She wasn't on Broadway yet, but she'd get there. He knew she would.

Now he was standing across the street, watching her sitting by herself in the little cafe. She was sitting at the table facing towards the sidewalk, and from time to time she would lift her head and look around. As if she was willing someone to be there. He wanted to walk over the moment he saw her, but doubt kept him back. What if she was waiting for someone? What if she didn't want to see him? It's not like they left things on the best of terms.

He sighed, raking his hand through his hair. He hated that he felt nervous. He readjusted the guitar case slung over his shoulder before lightly jogging across.

Rachel looked down at the journal in front of her. She had wanted to start the morning, which had turned gray and misty, with fresh ideas written down. But as the hour passed, she had yet to write anything. It was frustrating. She hadn't written in months. Nothing good, anyway.

She picked up the mug sitting next to her journal. She drank the warm jasmine tea hoping that it would spark something inside of her. Something to make her feel alive again.

"Hi, Berry."

The pen in Rachel's fingers froze. She slowly looked up and gasped softly. "Noah?" She blinked rapidly a few times, her brain working to catch up with the image of Puck in front of her. In New York City. "Noah, what are you doing here?"

He smiled, shrugging the guitar off his shoulders. "Can I sit?"

"Yeah, yeah. Of course." Rachel moved her stuff out of the way then watched him slide easily into the seat next to her. "I'm sorry, I'm just.." She laughed softly. "I mean, hi. How are you?"

Puck chuckled, scratching the scruff on his chin. "Which question would you like me to answer first?"

"Um, how are you?" Rachel blushed, though she was smiling. She pulls down the hem of her skirt even though she's wearing a pair of gray leggings underneath. It's more to do with the restlessness in her hands.

"I'm good," he grinned. "How are you?"

"I'm good, too. Now, tell me what you're doing here."

"Well, I've been living in New York for a few weeks now," he starts.

"What happened to Lima?"

"I got tired of being there. Working in the garage for minimum wage wasn't exactly a good time. And you talked so much about how great New York would be, and then when we came here for regionals I understood what you meant. So, I quit the garage, sold my truck, pack some things, and now here I am."

"Wow," she breathed. "That's, that's amazing. I never thought anyone other than Kurt and myself would actually come out here. Well, I guess we both know that's not entirely true." She smiled sadly.

Puck glanced down. He asks the question he wants to ask but not in the way he should. "Have you talked to anyone? From back home, I mean."

Rachel shook her head. "Just Kurt and Blaine mostly. Sometimes Mercedes calls but she's busy in L.A. Working on getting her recording contract. My dads visited a few months ago, and they are thinking about moving out here. They like it."

Puck couldn't help the feeling of relief in his stomach. He had been waiting for her to drop his name. He smiled a little more broadly. "I've seen your name on fliers around. Been starring in a lot of plays?"

Rachel grinned, and shrugged. "Not exactly star, though they really should just trust me more often. I try to do as much as I can. I also take classes and I'm writing. Well, trying to write anyway." She looked down at her empty journal and sighed. "It's not coming as quickly as I would like."

"Yeah, I think I know what you mean," Puck motioned towards his guitar. "Been writing some songs myself."

"What else have you been doing? Where do you live?"

"I live in Brooklyn," Puck smiled. He liked the excited tone in her voice. "Uh, I have a small apartment, if you could even call it that. I honestly think it's smaller than my bedroom back home."

Rachel laughs, taking a sip from her tea. "Oh come on, it can't be that bad."

"You'd be surprised," Puck laughs with her. "I work at a small bar just about a block away so it's convenient. Sometimes when the manager is feeling nice she lets me play a few songs on the guitar."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's pretty cool." Puck drummed his fingers on the table top. "You could come see me play sometime."

Rachel bit her bottom lip. "I think I would like that."

"What about you? Besides the work, what have you been doing?"

"Oh, well. I work sometimes in a small coffee shop. It's not as nice as this one, but it helps. My dads usually pay for a lot of my expenses, but I want to be more independent. It seems silly to be almost 22 and still relying on them."

"I doubt they mind."

"Oh, they don't. But I do. It's not who I want to be. I don't want to be the girl who comes to New York, saying that she's going to be a star and all this stuff but she can't even pay her rent on her own. Like, look at you. You came here, got a job, you play songs in your club.."

"It's just a bar actually."

"You know what I mean! I want to be more like that. Not so reliant on others." She sighs, then laughs. "I sound silly don't I?"

"No, not at all."

Puck smiles, looking her over. They sit together in a few minutes of silence, just taking each other in. It was the first time in a long time Rachel felt intimate without actually being intimate. She smiles softly. "Your hair actually covers your whole head. And it's curly."

"It feels better like this here," Puck nods and touches his hair briefly. Then he reaches over and gently fingers a strand of Rachel's. "Yours got shorter."

Rachel's chest tightens when he does that. "They told me my long hair looked a little too high school. That cutting it just below my shoulders would be better." She shrugs. "I kinda like it."

"You look good, Rachel. New York suits you."

There it was again. That spark, that draw. Rachel felt herself getting pulled in. "I.. I gotta go." She stood then, gathering her journal and pen into her bag. "I have a class, and.. I want to see you again. Catch up some more."

"Well, here," he stood up with her and pulled out his cell phone from his back pocket. "Give me your number and I'll give you mine, and you just call me when you want."

Rachel pulled out her cell phone from her bag. They exchange numbers, and Puck walks her to the door. He doesn't want to leave yet, but he gets the sense that her seeing him makes her a little nervous. He can respect that. He doesn't want to scare her away.

"So, you'll call right?" He can't help the slight desperation in his voice because what if she doesn't call?

Rachel pauses on the sidewalk, and looks up at him. It's been three years since the last time she saw him. Three years since the last time they spoke to each other. Three years, and Rachel can tell more than just his hair has changed. "Of course. I promise." She smiles, then lifts up on her toes to kiss his cheek. "It was really good seeing you, Noah."

His cheek still feels warm as he watches her walk away. He feels his chest swell and fall, as if he has to remind himself to breathe. As he walks in the opposite direction, he wonders what it is about Rachel that can make him feel this way.

He thinks about her all the way to work. He's still thinking about her when he starts setting up glasses and bottles of liquor on the shiny bar counter. He can't imagine Rachel sitting in a bar filled with shots and cigarette smoke, stoners and drunks, and yet, he wants to see her there. He wants to watch her while he sings.

Donna, the bar manager, comes up behind him. Her platinum blonde hair swings as she walks and her tattoos peak out from under the black fabric of her shirt. A bright smile lined with red lips flashes at him. "Well, helloooo Puck." She slides up onto the bar counter, and tosses one leather-clad leg over the other.

"Sup, Donna?" He continues to wash the glasses though he clearly knows she's watching him, testing him.

"Nothing, babydoll. Just finished writing checks and thought I would see how everything was going downstairs. You just get here?" Donna's voice is like smooth liquor. The longer she talks, the better it sounds but if you're not careful you could find yourself in shit load of trouble. Puck learned that the hard way.

"Yup. Everything's cool down here."

Donna frowns then purses her lips. She's six years old than Puck and she knows the little game he plays. She likes the cat-and-mouse, but only for so long. And she doesn't like to lose. "Well, when you're done I need some help upstairs." She jumps down and heads for the stairs.

"Actually," Puck leans against the counter. "I think I might be too busy down here."

Donna raises a perfect eyebrow, and snickers. "Yeah, right. Just come upstairs."

"I'm serious."

She sighs and leans against the banister. "What is this? You gotta some little girlfriend I don't know about? Or are you just playing hard to get?"

For a brief moment Puck feels like he's back in high school with Santana, before all the shit of the last couple years there went down. "No. Not exactly."

"What's her name?" Donna grins, leaning over the banister rail just enough so that her cleavage pushes against the seam of her neckline.

"You don't need to worry about her name. Just that I'm not coming upstairs." He turns, and heads towards the stage to help the rest of the guys set up for sound acts tonight.

Donna watches him, the slap of rejection causing her eyes to narrow angrily. She grips the banister and stomps upstairs. "Yeah, we'll see about that."