The night of their first show, he's nervous. Like, he might throw up at any second, he's so nervous. He's driving to Rachel's place to pick her up, and most of their gear is in the back of his truck. Finn and Artie are driving together, and they're all meeting at the bar in a half hour.
Puck does not want Rachel to know he's nervous. He doesn't know if she'd make fun of him for it, but she just might. He thinks, sometimes, that she likes to see him come a little undone. Kind of like he likes to see her come a little undone.
Oh, shit. That reminds him of a problem. What the hell is Berry's idea of a rock and roll outfit? I mean, it's not like he's done anything crazy. He's just wearing jeans and a black tee shirt, a pair of Chucks on his feet. That's rock and roll enough for him. But it's different for girls, isn't it? He needs her to look normal, hot even. Sexy, if she can pull it off.
(He knows she can. He's seen it several times.)
Her dad lets him into the house and tells him to head upstairs, and her bedroom door is open when he gets to it. He walks into the room and doesn't see any sight of her.
"Rach?"
"Oh!" he hears, coming from the bathroom. That door is open too, so he walks over to peek inside. "Hi!"
"Holy fucking shit."
Yeah, that is his reaction to her leather skirt. Leather. Black leather.
She is wearing black fucking leather. And that shit is short, too. Like, one of her shortest.
Her hair is down, curled at the ends, and she's got a black headband holding it back from her face a little bit. Her eyes are super dark and smokey, like he's never seen her wear her makeup before. It's seriously hot. And she's got a white tank top layered over a black one, with some long silver necklaces on.
"Is it okay?" she asks, biting her lip, which is painted redder than usual.
He lets out a soft laugh. "Is it...Is it okay?" he asks. He looks her up and down again. "Christ, Rach. It's more than okay." Her smile widens and she turns back to her mirror, fussing with her hair needlessly one last time. He most definitely stares at her ass in that leather skirt. "You look hot as hell."
She giggles and steps into her bedroom. "Good. That's what I was going for."
He doesn't know what makes him do it, but he reaches out and rests his hand on her hip before she can walk past him. "I can't even...I'm glad you're gonna be with us all night."
"What? Why?" she asks obliviously.
He smirks and watches as she bends down to grab her black strappy heels. (A couple more inches and he totally would have seen panty.) "Because someone has to make sure no other dudes get all up on this."
Her eyes meet his, and for a second, she seriously wonders what in the world he's talking about. He's making it sound like he wants her for himself or something. If she's being honest, they've been dancing around that for weeks.
She decides she'll do a little prodding, see if she can't get a more solid indication of what he's thinking or feeling.
"You don't think it's too much?" she asks coyly, running her fingers through the ends of her hair.
He clears his throat after a second of staring. "No," he answers. "No, it's...it's perfect."
She smiles all wide and heads out into the hall.
He follows her for a few reasons.
Rachel is almost surprised at how well their performance goes. Finn only drops his drumsticks once, and Noah hits the note in Livin' On A Prayer that he hasn't been hitting consistently. Artie sounds amazing, and Rachel, of course, is flawless.
She definitely did not expect to see Quinn, Brittany, Santana, Mike and Matt in the audience. During the break in the band's set, she learns that they all have fake IDs, and of course they were going to come support their friends. Rachel's still just getting used to the idea of having friends.
When Matt starts flirting with her (and he is flirting, she's not imagining it), that's when things get really weird.
He brings her a bottle of water and twists off the cap before handing it to her, and she thanks him politely. When there isn't a seat at the table everyone's at, he stands and insists she take his spot. When his hand brushes her back as he rests it on the back of the chair, she looks up at him and he gives her this really sweet smile.
And that's when Noah grabs her by the wrist and tells her he needs to talk to her about one of the songs in their second set.
He pulls her into the little backstage area behind a heavy door, and she pulls her wrist from his grasp, looking at him like he's insane.
"What on earth is your problem?" she asks angrily, rubbing her skin.
Puck looks down and sees that her wrist is red from where he was holding it and he feels like a complete dick. God, he doesn't want to hurt her. He just couldn't sit there and watch Matt making a move on her. He reaches out and takes her hand, letting his fingertips run over the marks on her skin softly.
"Sorry," he mumbles. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
"I'm fine," she insists quietly. "Just...confused. I'm fairly certain you don't honestly need to talk to me about Hurts So Good." She looks down and notices that his hand is still holding hers, his other still tracing shapes on her wrist. "Noah, why are you still holding onto me."
"Because."
"Because why?"
He raises his eyes to look at her then, and god, she looks so gorgeous that it's hard to remember what he wanted.
Right. Just to get her away from Matt. That was really all there was to it.
"Because Matt was totally coming onto you, and I need you focused for our next set," he answers evenly. Sweet. That was a good answer. He knows it.
But then her face kind of falls and she takes another step away from him.
"Right. Of course," she says, pulling her hand away from his. Shit. How did he just fuck up? "Are you prepared? We go on in three minutes."
"Ready when you are, babe."
She rolls her eyes at his smirk, but there are fireworks going off in her stomach.
She wants him to want her.
(Which gives her an idea for a song, and she is going to sing lead if they do it.)
Their second set gets people laughing, dancing and kissing, in some cases. Rachel laughs as an old guy with a mullet approaches Brittany and asks for a dance. She's too nice or clueless to say no, so she ends up being two stepped around the dance floor. Puck shoots a look Rachel's way as he sings, and she just shrugs and shakes her head. None of them ever really know what's going on in Brittany's head.
It's nearing 1:00 am when they finish playing, and by that time all their friends have left. The only people left in the bar are too drunk to register what's going on, or much of anything else, really, so the band disassembles their equipment and loads up pretty quickly without too much hassle.
Rachel talks to the manager and gets their money, and also books them another show in a couple weeks' time.
So Puck can admit that she's pretty awesome.
And he can admit that her ass looks really fucking hot when she's leaning over the bar, grabbing a few bottles of water for the guys. God, that skirt is fucking killer.
"C'mon," Puck says after they've packed up all their shit and are standing around outside. "I'll take you home."
"Finn offered," she says, brushing the hair back from her face.
"So?" he says seriously, shrugging his shoulder. "You came with me. It'd be shitty of you to leave with someone else."
He sees the smile she tries to hide. He can tell she doesn't buy that for a second.
"Fine." She watches as he wrenches open the door of his truck, and he actually turns his head as she climbs in, rather than trying to sneak a peek up her skirt. She's pretty sure he could have, too. She's not sure she'll wear the leather again, despite his obvious approval.
The first thing he does when he turns the key is turn the radio off, and Rachel is thankful for it. They've just spent over three hours in a crowded, loud bar, playing rock music. The last thing she needs right now is any unnecessary noise.
"You were really great tonight," she says once they're halfway toward her house. "You sounded really good."
"Don't I always?" he asks teasingly, casting her a sideward glance. She rolls her eyes, then yawns. He laughs a little bit. He gets the feeling she's out past her bedtime. "Thanks. And you were good too."
"Thank you," she says. Another yawn comes, and they both laugh. "I'm sorry. I just can't wait to get out of this skirt and into my bed."
He doesn't know what the fuck to say do that. All his ideas are really fucking dirty.
So he says nothing. He notices the way she fidgets. It's obvious she's realized what she's said, and he actually feels good or whatever, knowing he didn't push the issue just to make her squirm.
He could, but he won't.
They're quiet the rest of the way to her house, and she just smiles at him before getting out of his truck and heading for the front door.
He shouldn't feel like the night isn't over. He shouldn't be pissed that she didn't say anything.
He really shouldn't be thinking about her shimmying out of that skirt, pulling her shirt over her head, and laying down in bed.
(But he does.)
They give themselves a couple days off practice, which at first Puck is thankful for. He works a little overtime and puts a chunk of money in the bank (the $200 from their gig went straight to Q/the hospital, which he wasn't even pissed about; the sooner he gets that shit paid off, the better.) He hangs out with his mom, which despite what he might have you believe, is actually kind of cool. What? His mom is awesome, you know, when she's not riding his ass about whatever. They have Chinese and watch Ocean's 11, and it's not so bad, just sitting there with her, listening to her talk about how 'handsome that George Clooney is. For a gentile.'
Finn takes an extra shift, so the day they're supposed to resume rehearsals their practice is cancelled. Fucking Hudson. Puck was actually really looking forward to playing again. He's gotten really used to hanging out in his garage with these three fucking misfits. Seriously. They're insane. Their band is the most ridiculous mix of people ever. Maybe that's why it works.
But you know what the really fucked up thing is?
He fucking misses Rachel.
Sure, she's annoying (not as much as she used to be) and loud (but that's not so bad when you actually listen to what she has to say) and crazy (and that happens to work out in their favour most of the time). But she's also fucking hilarious when she doesn't take herself so seriously, and she's probably the nicest person he knows. Seriously, what other girl would just forgive and forget all the shit he's put her through? They're friends, despite all that, and he thinks that's pretty awesome of her.
And yeah, he's gotten off to the memory of her in that skirt a couple times. Whatever. He can't be blamed for that.
He doesn't know what the fuck's wrong with him, though, because he kinda just wants to like, hear her voice.
Pretty weird, since he spent pretty much the first two years of his high school life trying to ignore it.
He grabs his keys and tells his mom he's going out, even though it's fucking pouring rain, and that he's not sure when he'll be home. She shouts something about 1:00 am at him as he walks to the door, but he doesn't really put much stock into that, because she never really punishes him anyway for breaking 'curfew.' That whole curfew thing was pretty much only instated after she found out about the baby, which is pretty fucked up, if you think about it. What, does she think babies can only be made between the hours of 1:00 and 7:00 am? Crazy woman.
And he's parked in front of Rachel's house 10 minutes later.
Come outside, he texts her.
What? It's late.
He watches the light go on in her bedroom, then texts her back. Come out. I'm bored.
My dads won't let me.
Ask.
It's another minute and a half (he watches the time change on the clock on his dash) before she texts him back.
Fine.
She's outside five minutes later, wearing jeans and a loose black v-neck tee shirt. She runs to his truck holding a sweater over her head in a lame attempt at keeping herself dry. She hoists herself into the passenger seat and glares at him, gathering her hair in her hands and pulling it off her neck before letting it fall again.
"What are you doing? Do you have any idea how many questions I just faced? My fathers don't quite understand why I'm leaving the house at 10 o'clock at night. Not to mention, this weather is absolutely disgusting, and...Why aren't you driving? Did you just force me out here to idle in your truck on my own street?"
He chokes out a laugh and puts his truck in gear, turns up the wipers as they pull away from the curb. She messes with his radio (fucking always) and clicks her seat belt into place, draping her sweater over the back of the seat between them.
"How are you?" he finds himself asking.
"I've been well, thank you. Dance class was excruciating today. I don't know how familiar you are with the pas de deux, but I've been working on it since May with this boy in my ballet class, and my muscles are..."
"Rachel?"
"Yes?"
"I was kinda just being polite," he says. She actually smiles, rather than getting all upset and self-conscious like she would have before. "But it's kinda weird, huh?"
"What's that?" she asks, crossing her legs as she gets comfortable. He loves it when she does that. It's kinda sexy. She looks good in his truck.
"Not, you know, having practice every day or whatever."
"Oh! That! Yes, it has been weird, actually," she says, smiling over at him. He grins back, turns up the radio when a not-sucky (probably the only one on this station she listens to) song comes on.
She realizes he hasn't answered her question. She still doesn't know why he picked her up or insisted that she come out with him. Surely, if he wanted to go out he would have called someone else. Oh, goodness. What if he wants to go out? What if there's a party or something that she inevitably doesn't know about? She's certainly not dressed for that. And what would make him think that she'd want to go in the first place?
"Noah, where are we going?" she asks in a panic.
He looks at her like she's nuts.
"Nowhere. I dunno. Wherever," he says.
Well, that puts her at ease.
"Nowhere? Wherever? Noah, what kind of answer is that? I'm not exactly a spontaneous person. I don't know if..."
"Oh, my god," he says, holding out his hand between them. "Fine. Stop talking. I know where I'm going, okay?"
No, he really doesn't.
But he decides on it pretty quickly.
20 minutes later, after they've talked about his work and her hanging out with Quinn (which he still thinks is really fucking weird, actually) they're parked by the lake, and it's completely dark, except for the light from his truck, and they can see the way the rain makes a mist over the water.
"What are we doing here?" she asks.
He grins at her, turns off the truck and pulls his phone and wallet from his pockets. "Swimming."
"What!?" she cries. "It's raining!"
"Exactly."
"Noah."
"Have you ever been swimming in the rain? It's fucking epic," he tells her.
"I'm fairly certain epic is one of the most overused words by our generation, and no, I'm not going swimming at night, in the dark, in the rain, with you."
She literally crosses her arms over her chest and looks away from him out of protest alone.
And it's fucking cold, the way she added 'with you,' like it'd be the worst thing in the world to be in the water with him.
"C'mon. Please?" he asks, hoping his sweet tone of voice will convince her.
"I don't have a suit," she reminds him. He looks at what she's wearing and finds himself smiling. (The way she's sitting, her shirt is gaping at the front and he can see the purple of the bra she's wearing. Goddamn.)
"Neither do I."
"And you don't believe that's a problem?" she asks hotly, turning towards him again. He smirks at her and pulls his shirt over his head. "This is ridiculous. And unsafe. And aren't there eels in this lake?"
"Yup. Which is why I need you," he says. Oh, hell yeah. He's turning on the charm now. "Who's gonna protect me?"
"You're being ridiculous," she says, though there's a smile on her face. She sighs and looks away when he undoes his belt, then unbuttons his jeans and kicks off his shoes. "You're certifiable."
"Come on, Rach. It's pouring rain. There's a lake right there. It's not like you're gonna get any more wet, just because it's raining," he says. Once he realizes what he's said, he turns to her, lifting up off his seat so he can pull his jeans down. She looks quickly away and he can see her turning red. "Unless..."
"What?" she asks when he doesn't finish.
"Well, maybe it will make you more wet, swimming with me. Maybe that's what you're afraid of."
Holy shit, he can't believe he just said that.
She turns back to him, eyes fixed on his face, and raises her brow. "Trust me. That's not the problem."
She's lying.
He doesn't know it.
(She's acutely aware that he's wearing nothing but his boxers, sitting next to her and saying these things.)
"You go first," she says after they've just stared at one another for a moment. "I'll come."
He wonders if she chose those words just to see if he's going to push his luck. He decides against it.
He reaches for the door handle, but turns back to her before opening it. "You're not gonna like, drive off, are you?" She laughs and shakes her head, and he believes her. "Good."
He hops out of the truck, revels in the way the rain cools his skin. It's still hot as hell, even though it's pouring. He makes his way to the edge of the water, and when he looks back to his truck he sees Rachel wearing just her bra on top, and shimmying out of her jeans.
This was either a fucking awesome idea, or an epically bad one. (And fuck her. Epic is an awesome word, even if some people say it too much.)
He wades in until the water's at his thighs, then dives under, resurfacing when the water is up to his chest. He looks back at the truck only to see Rachel with the door open. She's totally hesitating. She gets out, but stands there behind the door and watches him.
"Close your eyes!" she shouts, barely audible over the rain on the water.
"Fuck that! I've seen you in a bathing suit!"
"This is my...This is my..."
"Your underwear. I know! Just come here!" he yells back. "Sometime today, Berry!"
He watches her contemplate it, but she's already soaked by this point. Her hair is sticking to her skin, and her makeup is probably destroyed. He doesn't really care. Her hair looks fucking hot, actually, and she's the kind of girl who doesn't need makeup anyway.
She slams the door and, out of courtesy, he at least pretends to cover his eyes with his hand. Does he peek? You bet your ass he does. Her body is fucking ridiculous.
(And no, he doesn't know what a pas de deux or whatever is, but he's pretty sure he'd like watching her do it.)
He pulls his hand down and moves out further, so he's treading water as she dives below the surface. She comes up about 10 feet away from him and swims over. She shakes her head a little bit, trying to get the hair off her face, but it's no use. He's pretty glad. She looks amazing.
She has to admit, this isn't the worst idea he's ever had. It's kind of...almost...sexy, swimming with him at night in the lake, no one else around, rain coming down. And she knows he finds her attractive (she can't forget the night he admitted that to her; she's tried, she just can't.) She really, really wishes her stupid teenaged hormones would just let her forget about him.
They're friends, she thinks, and it's crazy for her to want to kiss him.
"What now?" she asks once she's only a foot or two from him. "What are we going to do?"
"I dunno," he says once more. He gets this smirk on his face that she doesn't trust. Then he splashes her with water and she squeals. "What are you gonna do?"
"Noah!" she shrieks.
She splashes him back, her head dipping under the water when she uses all her force to spray him. She tries to swim away when he threatens to come after her, and when he grabs onto her ankle, she screams and tries to kick her way out of his hold, but it doesn't work. She spins onto her back, kicking more forcefully, sending water into his face and forcing him to close his eyes.
He can't believe how fun this is, just messing around with her. But he really wishes she'd stop fucking kicking water at him so he could get a look at her, floating on her back in nothing but her wet underthings.
He tugs on her ankle with one hand, grabs ahold of her thigh with the other, and pulls her back down so they're face to face. They've somehow made it to more shallow water, so it's only up to his chest and her shoulders. When he brushes the hair from her face, he knows they're having one of those cheesy fucking movie moments where he's supposed to kiss her and she's supposed to wrap herself all around him.
Basically? All he can think about is having sex with her.
She's looking up at him, breathing returning to normal, and she says something that pretty much puts everything back into perspective.
"Don't kiss me."
He's stunned for a moment, then laughs bitterly, shakes his head, and moves away from her, back towards the shore.
She's left there in the water, watching him go, wondering why she's so intent on ruining all the moments they have.
Really, she should have just kissed him. It would have been perfect, the stuff of movies. People write screenplays about kisses like that.
She doesn't know what she's so afraid of.
She's completely over Jesse, and she hasn't wanted anyone in ages. It's more than safe to say that she and Finn are nothing but friends.
The only person she's had romantic feelings for since school ended is Noah.
So why is she pushing him away?
(She's worried that he'll just inevitably end up doing the same to her, pushing back.)
She swims closer to shore then climbs out of the water, and he's already halfway to his truck. She runs after him, and she doesn't know if he realizes it, because he doesn't move any faster.
"Noah!" she calls when she's only a few feet away. She wonders if it only feels like the rain just got louder. She's having a hard time concentrating on anything but the two of them, soaking wet, and how badly she wants to kiss him.
"What, Rachel?"
He doesn't even check her out. She finds she misses it.
"I'm...I'm such an idiot," she says, shaking her head. He rolls his eyes and looks away from her. "I just thought...I didn't want...I ruined everything."
"You did not. Don't be such a fuckin' drama queen."
She likes the fact that he's smiling. That has to be a good thing.
So she takes another stride towards him, rests her hands on his bare shoulders. They're still hot to the touch. She's freezing.
"I want you to," she admits, eyes locked with his.
This girl is full of fucking surprises.
"Didn't seem like it."
"I know," she says quietly. "I was...I thought..."
She gets frustrated with herself for not being able to just say what she wants to say.
I want you so badly that it scares me.
She figures he'll better understand a physical gesture anyway.
She hops up on her toes, presses herself against him, throws her arms around his neck and kisses him before he even registers what's going on. After a few moments, he sinks into it, wrapping his arms around her waist to hold her against him.
Well, of all the things he expected from Rachel, this doesn't even register. He didn't think she was the kind to make this kind of move. He likes that she is though. And maybe he should have expected it. She goes after the things she wants.
Maybe he's just having a hard time believing that she wants him.
And for the record? It's not the easiest fucking thing in the world to not get hard when there's a half-naked, soaking wet girl slipping her tongue into your mouth, tight little body pressed all against you.
"Rachel," he says, pulling away slightly. "You gotta...You gotta give me a second here."
She looks between his lips and his eyes. "But why?" she asks innocently.
He's starting to think that there is very little innocent about her. Especially the way she shifts her hips, making him growl.
"Stop that, or I'll take you right now," he threatens. She actually gasps. Fuck! That's so hot."I don't...what's this all about?"
"I don't know," she says, leaning forward to kiss him again. "I wanted to. I have wanted to. I...these past few weeks..."
"Yeah," he says quietly.
She shivers violently against him, and he kisses the tip of her nose. (Why not, right?) He reaches for the handle of the drivers side door and wrenches it open, shoving her inside. He grabs the blanket out from under the seat and hands it to her, watches as she drapes it around her shoulders.
They just sit there for a while, her shivering and him trying not to let on that he's actually getting cold. He grabs one edge of the blanket, tugs hard and pulls her across the seat so she's next to him. He drapes his arm around her shoulder, and he knows she's smiling (he can see her reflection in the windshield). He wonders if she's always been this beautiful.
When she stops shaking, he turns his head a little, lips brushing her temple, and speaks softly.
"You wanna make out?"
She starts laughing so hard he thinks she's going to start crying. But then she's wrapping the blanket around the both of them, and her wet bra is pressed up against his chest, her legs around his waist as he presses her back onto the seat.
"Sure," she says against his lips.
Rachel sleeps in until noon. It's unheard of.
But then again, she's never been out until 2:00 in the morning, kissing a boy in his truck by the lake, either.
God, she feels like she's living in a Taylor Swift song.
Maybe there should have been a little more talking, rather than just the kissing. For all she knows, it was just a one time thing. But given the way he's been looking at her and acting around her since school ended, she's pretty sure it's going to happen again.
(Her stomach shouldn't tighten just thinking about it.)
But then, as she's in the shower, she wonders if that's all it'll be. Would just kissing him be enough for her? She doesn't think so. She's never had that kind of relationship, and though it surprises her, too, she finds herself actually interested in him. And not just because he's gorgeous.
As she's getting dressed and realizing how starving she is, she hears her phone buzzing, so she grabs it before she makes her way to the stairs.
She's got three missed texts. One from Quinn, asking her if she wants to hang out at Brittany's with the girls. There's one from Finn, confirming their practice time for the evening.
And one from Noah, that makes her choke on the orange juice she's just poured herself.
Work sucks. I keep thinking about you naked in my truck.
She hasn't responded to the other two yet. She's going to respond to this one immediately.
I wasn't naked!
He laughs when he receives the text. He's eating lunch at his place, taking a break like he does nearly every day. He knew that message would get her going. But he sent it nearly two hours ago, and he's been just a little worried that she's too pissed at him to respond.
He puts down his sandwich and keys in a response, ignoring his mom's nagging about phones at the table.
"It's Rachel," he says.
Those are the fucking magic words, and he's learned that.
"Oh! How is she?"
He rolls his eyes and laughs. "I swear to god, you're like, two seconds away from adopting her."
She smiles and puts her hands on his shoulders, leaning down to kiss his temple like she knows damn well he hates. "Of course not, Noah," she says, and he can hear her smiling. He's sensing she's got more to say. "If I did that, it'd be very strange when you two get married."
"Oh, for fuck sakes, mom!" he groans.
She smacks him upside the head. (He's not surprised.)
"Watch your mouth."
"Stop planning my future!"
"Someone has to!" she says, laughing as she leaves the kitchen.
That woman is going to be the death of him.
But anyway, he's got a text to send.
Might as well have been. You felt so good.
He smirks to himself. He's not lying. He's been thinking about it all morning.
And yeah, he was up way after he got home, because there was just no way he was going to sleep without, you know, doing that thing he told her he does while thinking of her. As if she could blame him.
Not that he's going to complain about only getting to second base. Jesus, she was wet, almost naked, and laying beneath him in his truck. There was nothing bad about that. Not at all.
He honestly doesn't expect her to reply to that text. He figures it's just too much for her, and that's okay. He actually kind of likes that about her, that he's most likely going to be the one making all the moves. Well, she kissed him last night, so maybe it'll just always be him pushing the envelope, waiting for her to catch up.
But then as he's driving to his next client's house, his phone lights up on the seat next to him.
So did you. I keep trying to figure out if that actually happened.
He smiles to himself, waits until he's parked in the driveway of his next house, then texts her back.
Oh it happened. Stay tonight after practice.
He doesn't wait for a response.
He wasn't asking.
Rachel is completely distracted when she's hanging out with the girls. Brittany and Santana are curled up together on a lounge chair in the shade. Quinn is in the sun, her glasses over her eyes and wearing the first two piece she's worn all summer. Rachel is positioned between them all. She's grown more confident over the last few weeks, and she bought a new bikini the other day, bright pink with black strings. Yes, she has a string bikini. (Her dads don't need to know about this one...)
"I swear I was so bored last night, I actually almost called Puck," Santana says.
Rachel chokes on her lemonade.
(She's not sure if that's a joke. Santana is smiling and Brittany is pouting. Quinn is just laughing.)
"You okay, Rachel?" Quinn asks, lifting her sunglasses up as she looks over at the brunette.
"I'm fine!"
Quinn just shakes her head and rolls her eyes, then goes back to sunning herself.
The conversation shifts to the party Brittany wants to throw, then the vacation Santana is taking with her parents ("Who goes to Mexico in the summer?") Quinn says something about some guy she met at the mall the other day, but won't give any more details, no matter how many questions the girls shower on her.
They order pizza for dinner, then afterward when Rachel checks the time, she realizes she's already running late for practice, and she throws on her shorts and tee shirt haphazardly.
"They're going to kill me!" she cries, gathering her things, throwing them into her bag. She hadn't meant to even stay for dinner, but then they said something about food, and her dads are both working late, and...
"Relax! As if they're ever on time," Santana says, laughing at how frantic Rachel is getting.
"No! You don't get it! This is our first practice since last weekend," she explains. "I have to go! Call me later!"
She curses herself for saying that, because she plans to be otherwise occupied 'later.'
She blushes even as she thinks it.
She's halfway to her car when Quinn comes running behind her, barefoot and wearing her shorts over her bathing suit bottoms. "Rachel!"
"Quinn, I can't...I'm so late!"
"I know, just wait," Quinn says. Rachel stops and they stand in front of one another. "You and Puck..."
"Quinn."
"Are you two...are you hooking up? Because when Santana said that, you seemed..."
Rachel rolls her eyes and tips her head back. She doesn't know what she and Noah are, if they're anything. She doesn't know if this is just physical, just for the summer, just for right now. She doesn't want to tell anyone in case it all crashes and burns before it even has a chance to really spark.
But she's never had a girlfriend before, and she thinks that this is what it's all about, telling one another things like this.
"We...we kissed," Rachel says quietly. Quinn literally squeals. "Shhh!"
"What? When? Did he...or did you? And...oh my god!"
"Stop it!" Rachel hisses. "It's...it was last night. We went swimming."
"It rained," Quinn says, confused.
"I know. We went to the lake."
"That's so romantic!"
"Stop!" Rachel laughs. "It was nice. It was...Quinn, I'll tell you the story later. I really have to go."
"Fine! Call me after practice." Rachel blushes and bites her bottom lip. "Oh, my god. Fine. Call me when you're not busy making out with Puck."
"Quinn!" Rachel cries.
"Bye, Rachel," Quinn sings, a huge smile on her face. "Use a condom."
"Quinn!"
All Rachel hears is Quinn's laughter as she runs back around the side of the house.
When practice is supposed to be starting and Rachel still hasn't shown up, Puck wonders if she's already changed her mind or something. He knew they should have talked more about what that kiss (well, that few hours of making out) meant. But the thing is, he ignored it, kissed her every time she tried to talk, because he doesn't know what it means.
He knows he likes her, alright? He like, likes hanging out with her. And she's super hot, which helps. And she can kiss like a fucking champ. But he's not really sure what he wants to do about all that. He's a shitty boyfriend. Seriously. He sucks at it. (Quinn will attest to this.) The thing with Rachel is, she'd like, train him or whatever. Shit. That makes it sound like he's a dog or something. No, that's not right. But she'd show him how to be a boyfriend. If he wants to be one, that is.
Maybe he does. Fuck if he knows.
But whatever.
Where is she?
"I'm here! I'm here!" she cries hurriedly, rushing into the garage. She's a half hour late. "I'm sorry! I lost track of time."
"Where the fuck have you been?" Puck mumbles.
"What are you wearing?" Artie asks.
"What's on your neck?" Finn pipes in.
Well, shit. Puck likes what she's wearing (he can see her bathing suit tied at the back of her neck - totally hot - and a pair of shorts that pretty much just cover her ass) and that thing on her neck? That's a hickey. Fuck yeah.
Rachel curses herself. She had her hair down earlier, strategically in place to cover that stupid mark on her neck. But then, on the way over, she got too hot and sick of the hair sticking to the back of her neck, so she pulled it into a ponytail.
She pulls the elastic from her hair and shakes it out. (She watches Puck watching her.)
"I was with the girls at Brittany's. And it's nothing," she says.
"Doesn't look like nothing," Finn says. He's so clueless. Artie is even smirking, because he knows what it is (just not who gave it to her.)
"I just...burnt myself with my curling iron!" she blurts out, proud of her lie. She's far too responsible to injure herself in such a pedestrian manner, but Finn doesn't seem to recognize that. She'd be offended if she didn't need him to buy her lie.
Puck laughs, then strums a chord loudly on his guitar. "Can we fuckin' play now? Jesus, we've already lost a half hour 'cause Rachel doesn't own a watch. I don't wanna sit here and talk like a bunch of chicks for the rest of the night."
Finn rolls his eyes and Artie turns up the volume on Rachel's amp as it sits next to his. Puck winks at her when his back is to the other guys.
They go through their practice, and it ends up running a little long because they stop to talk about their show and the things that worked, the things that didn't. Rachel suggests they do one or two more ballads, and Finn agrees. Artie thinks it wouldn't be a bad idea, and Puck gives in, just because he knows he's outnumbered, and those old people in the bar seemed to dig swaying along to that shit.
Finn and Artie are talking about some ridiculous video game, so they don't notice the way Puck raises his brow and looks far too amused when Rachel leans forward to pick up her folder of music off the floor. Straight view down the front of her shirt. Nice.
Finn and Artie leave, neither of them thinking that it's weird that Rachel stays behind. She contemplates that for a moment and realizes that it's not all that strange for her to stay a few minutes later. It's funny, she thinks, that now that she and Noah have kissed, she can look back and see all the little things she tried to do to be around him.
As soon as Finn and Artie have pulled away, Puck walks up behind Rachel and grabs her hips, pulling her against him.
"You look so fucking hot right now."
"I'm sorry I was late," she says, turning in his arms despite how much she loves the feeling of his chest pressing against her back.
"I don't care when you get here if you look this fucking amazing." He leans down and kisses her, loving the way she moans when his hands slip down to rest on her ass. "Hey."
She laughs and pushes away from him. "Hi."
"Mom's not home until 11:00 tonight," he explains.
Her heart shouldn't race this much, she's sure of it. "Hannah?"
"Friend's house."
She gives him this fucking ridiculously sexy smile as she backs away from him, his hand in hers, and walks towards the door to the house.
Girl doesn't know what she's in for.
Turns out, as sexy as that bathing suit is, practically two little triangles of fabric and some string, he finds it much, much sexier when he's pulling it off her.
And yeah, it's pretty adorable, the way she giggles when he practically growls and kisses her again after looking at her completely naked upper body.
So talking, again, comes second (well, last) to making out.
