It becomes less awkward when they finally start mixing the cookie dough. They talk every so often, but mainly she sings along, bouncing on the balls of her feet with that boundless energy of hers. Sometimes he joins in, and he can't help but notice that that their voices weave together really well...they just fit.
The last chords of Marc Cohn's "Walking In Memphis" fade into a new tune, this one insanely bubbly and bright.
Sunday morning/rain is falling/steal some covers share some skin/clouds are shrouding us in moments unforgettable
"Maroon 5 is a Jewish band?" he asks incredulously.
"The lead singer, Adam Levine, is."
Puck shrugs and slides the trays of chocolate chip cookies into the high-tech, preheated oven.
"Now for the bread," she says. "Don't worry, I already made the dough for this, so all we really have to do is spread the flour."
"I know."
"You know?" she parrots.
"It sticks otherwise. Bread dough can become a frickin' mess if you're not careful."
"Noah Puckerman, Sous de Chef," she says with a smile. "Who knew?"
"No, I'm just not a total douche, despite popular opinion. I help my mom with this sort of stuff. Not often, but it happens."
They scoop their hands into the container of flour and spread it across the bread board. Rain suddenly falls in torrents, rapping against the windows with such intensity that they can hear it, even with the music.
Beauty queen of only 18/she had some trouble with herself/he was always there to help her/she always belonged to someone else...
There is some sort of unspoken agreement as they stop kneading and start singing along, dancing fro separate sides of the board.
"I don't mind spending every day," Rachel's voice bursts out from her tiny self.
"Out on your corner in the pouring rain," Puck sings, matching volume.
"Look for the girl with the broken smile," she sings in full-out diva mode, holding the top of her head with her hands, pulling them over her hair, down her neck, and moving side to side, "ask her if she wants to stay awhile-"
"Wait, wait!" he says, laughing, "you just got a bunch of flour on your face."
And she will be loved/ oh she will be loved oh oh...
He comes over to her side. She stops dancing and simply looks up at him.
Tap on my window/ knock on my door/I wanna make you feel beautiful...
Brushing the flour from her face required touching her. He promises himself he'll get it off quickly, just like ripping off a bandaid. And yet, because he's clearly a freaking idiot, he lets his hand cradle her face for a beat too long before brushing off the powdery stuff from her cheek and her forehead with his calloused fingers. He should stop there, and she opens her mouth as if she's going to ask her to, but again he says, "Wait. You still have stuff in your hair."
He waits for her to insist that she can get it herself, but she doesn't, just keeps looking at him with those huge brown eyes that are filled with- fear? What, exactly, is she so afraid of? Hesitantly, he bends down a little(what? It's not HIS fault she's a freaking midget) to pull the scrunchie out of her ponytail, fluff her hair out with his hands, and run his fingers through her thick, silky hair. He shakes his hands out and the residue from the flour and dough falls.
He hands her the scrunchie back to her, refusing to make eye contact with anyone other than the floor.
"Thank you," she says quietly.
"Yup."
-/-/-
After they've wrapped the cookies and placed the loaves in then oven, he tells her he promised his little sister he'd watch the Lion King with her. She looks a him with shining eyes when he reveals this.
"Don't think much of me, B. I'm only doing it because I've blown her off seven times already."
"At least you're doing it," she says with a shrug.
"I guess. Well…gotta go," he says, gesturing behind himself with a hooked thumb.
"Right. Um…thank you again."
"S'not a problem. Bye," he says, not wanting to go through the ordeal of her decision on hug/cheek kiss/handshake.
It's completely out of character for Hannah to squint at her brother when the tube's on. She's usually transfixed to the screen from the start, especially when one of her favorite movies is on.
"What?" he snaps.
"You don't smell like icky boy germs."
"Glad to hear it, Hannah."
"You smell like…strawberries. And shampoo. And cookies!" she exclaims, her adorable smile displaying the new teeth growing in.
"Whatever," he mumbles, as she scooches her way over and snuggles into his side.
Rachel paces around her huge kitchen. What was that? Had she really felt more butterflies when barely touching Noah-him barely touching her- than when she was in the midst of full-out make-out sessions with Finn?
No.
No, of course not. It must've been hormones. Maybe…she was just feeling turned on in general because she was finally ready for- it. With Finn. Of course. Who else would she feel so sure, so comfortable with? Who else was her boyfriend? Who else had (sort of) comforted her when she was upset about Burt? Who else loved her and so constantly?
No one else but him, obviously.
She calls Finn and tells him her parents won't be home until morning, and maybe not even then, and asks him to come over in two hours.
She schedules those two hours with painstaking care and starts to get ready
While she is in a luxurious bubble bath, she freezes and jumps out, realizing there was one very important thing she forgot to do.
Quinn leaps out of her princess bed(her mom got quite a pretty penny from the divorce, so she's living the lifestyle she's accustomed to) when she hears her phone ringing.
"RACHEL" flashes across the screen.
Why on earth would that tiresome boyfriend-stealer be calling her?
She sighs, tightening the sash on her silky, pale pink robe, and flips the phone open.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Quinn. I'm sorry to call so-"
"What do you WANT, Rachel?"
"Alright, straight to the point, then. I know this is painful for you, but-"
"My life is painful. Just come out with it."
"What exactly did Finn says when you asked him out for me?"
Quinn feels a part of her glow when she remembers the first part of what he told her…and the same part sinks when she remembers his final answer.
"He said, 'I'd be lying if I said I didn't still have feelings for you, but I'm with someone now, and you know who she is."
"Okay. Thank you."
"Don't thank me. And don't call me again."
She hangs up and sinks back onto her bed, curling into fetal position. Her iPod switches songs.
You've found hope/You've found faith,/Found how fast she could take it away./Found true love,/Lost your heart/Now you don't know who you are
Tears fall on her porcelain cheek as she rubs her golden locket. Inside is a picture of an adorable, tall boy that she'd give anything to have back again.
You will fly and you will crawl/God knows even angels fall/No such thing as you lost it all/God knows even angels fall…