Here's chapter 2.
Thanks for all the revies, Guest, miss agron and TheDracarysLady.
Guest, there might be smut, but Puck won't end up with Lauren. I hope that doesn't keep you from reading the story.
There was no response to Puck's question, and he was alarmed. He could still hear whoever was there moving, and a noise of glass lightly hitting the floor. Was this person trying to break into his house? What was going on?
"Look, I got a gun here and I'm not afraid to shoot. Come out, where I can see you."
Of course he didn't have a gun with him, but he needed something to scare the person. Besides, from the position he was in, the person couldn't see him clearly either, so wouldn't be able to tell.
Suddenly, he heard a voice. A female voice:
"Please don't shoot. I'm sorry."
A woman who was apparently on her late twenties stepped forward, where he could see her. Her clothes looked like they've seen better days. She had on ragged jeans pants, a tank top, a bonnet and a thin coat. She was also holding a bottle of vodka, and her eyes were puffy and red, from crying, he assumed.
"Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my place?"
She looked scared, still afraid he could shoot her.
"I'm sorry, I'm not doing anything, Im just drinking a bit. Calm down."
"How am I supposed to calm down when a stranger is sitting on my terrace, doing God knows what?"
"Technically, I'm not a stranger. I used to live here."
"In the penthouse?"
"No, in the building. Second floor. I was the person that always forgot the clothes on the building's washing machine, remember?"
"I wouldn't know, I own a washing machine, so I don't have to use the laundry facilities."
The woman rolled her eyes. "Oh, yeah, you are the screenwriter. I mean, I should have realized you would own your own machine."
Puck was losing his patience. "Look, I'm having the worst day of my life. If you could just leave, you would help me a lot. I'm not comfortable with having a stranger in my house and I don't feel like calling the police, though that's exactly what I'll do if you don't leave right now."
The woman shook her head. "I told you I'm not a stranger. I'm Quinn Fabray, I lived across from the guy who owns 12 cats. You know who he is, don't you?"
Puck nodded, still not convinced. She could be lying, and just happened to know that there was a guy that owned 12 cats in the building.
The woman noticed he wasn't believing her, and kept going. "Come on, I've seen you around here! You and the scary lady you date. She used to give me dirty looks whenever we were in the mail room. And I've ran into your mother a couple of times too. I even helped her with some grocery bags once. I mean, I'm assuming it's your mother. Short dark hair, dimples... You and her have the same eyes." Quinn ranted, looking at his face.
She talked a lot, and was kind of distracting. He was listening to her. Her description of his mother was spot on. Maybe, she wasn't lying. He took in her blonde hair and hazel eyes. Maybe she looked familiar, it was possible that he ran into her a couple of times. But he was so into Lauren that he just didn't noticed other women, so he couldn't tell for sure.
"Ok, whatever, Quinn Fabray. It still doesn't explain why you are in my house. So, if you could just leave..."
"Well, I'm in here because I've got easy access. I'm still friends with Mr. Figgins, the doorman, and he always lets me in and..."
"I don't care. Just leave, or I'll call the police."
"But I can't leave you alone now. You just told me you're having the worst day of your life. Here, have some, you could use it." She said, offering him the bottle of vodka. "Specially since you dropped your glass." She looked at him expectantly, trying to give him the bottle.
Puck examined the bottle she was offering. It definately wasn't his, he would never buy this brand of vodka. She must've bought it before she got here, specially considering that there was only a quarter of the drink missing. But she'd had consumed enough to get her drunk.
"No thanks, I'll pass." Puck said, as he shook his head.
"Well, good, more for me, I guess. This bottle has to last until the end of the week." Quinn said, sitting on the floor. "So, what brings you here?"
"I live here?" Puck answered.
"I know, but you don't usually come outside. What happened to bring you here?"
"God, are you stalking me? How often do YOU come here? And what brings YOU here, to my place, person I don't really know?" He said, sarcastically.
"No, I'm not stalking you. But you do have na amazing view. See, you need to calm down, you're so stressed out. Sit here and have some." Quinn said, ordering him to sit next to her and offering him the bottle of vodka, once again.
This was the craziest day of his life. Puck couldn't wrap his head around what was happening to him, so he decided to just stop trying to make sense of everything. He sat next to this crazy woman that happened to be on his penthouse and grabbed the bottle, taking a long gulp. The vodka was warm, but didn't burn as much as the whisky. Eventually, it would numb him, and that was exactly what he needed. He took another sip before a weird thought downed on him:
"Are you homeless? How long have you been living on my terrace?" The desperation was evidente on his voice. This couldn't be happening.
"No, I'm not homeless, and I haven't been living here. I just come here when I need to think. This view helps me put things in perspective."
"Gee, glad I could help." Puck said again, sarcasm dripping from each word as he took another sip of the drink.
She smirked and ignored what he said last.
"So, back to the subject. Why are you having the worst day of your life?"
He took a deep breath before speaking.
"I asked her to marry me and we ended up breaking up."
"Who? Scary lady?". Was all the blonde said.
"Yes. She said she fell out of love with me."
"Ouch. I'm sorry."
Puck thought he was losing his mind. He was just opening up to a stranger, probably some homeless girl who's been living in his rooftop without his consent for an unknow period of time. Maybe it was just the vodka working it's magic.
"I can't believe I'm talking about this with a stranger."
"I'm not a stranger! We've established that."
"Please, we don't know each other."
"Yet, here we are, sharing a bottle of vodka and talking about your problems." She said, taking the bottle back from him so she could take a sip.
Puck just shrugged his shoulders. She had a point.
"You know, sometimes is better to talk to someone you don't really know. It's easier, and it could give a whole different perspective on the subject." Quinn said, before giving the bottle back to him.
Puck nodded. He was at the point that he just needed to talk about it, and he doubted that Finn or Sam would enjoy listening to him whine about his failed relationship. Besides, it wouldn't make him look good. So, what had he to lose, really?
"It's simple, really. We've been together, on and off, for the last 12 years. Now, all of sudden, she decided she doesn't love me anymore and said no to my proposal."
"That sucks. But, you know, life has a funny way of sneaking up on you, but also has a funny way of helping you out."
He furrowed his eyebrows. "Isn't that an Alanis Morissette song?"
The blonde chuckled. "Well, I tried. But truth is, I'm terrible with advices. I'm screwed right now because I followed my own advice, so, you shouldn't listen to me."
He had a small smile on his face.
She took it as a sign to continue. "But, if you wanna hear what I think anyway, here it is: you've been dating her since high school, right? You don't know what's like to be single, to be free. So, try it for a while. Get out there, go out with your friends, you'll have more free time to enjoy now, get a hobby! And I mean, a real one, because I know that you haven't touched that chessboard on your living room for months. And movies don't count as a hobby. That's what you do for a living, so you can't do that for fun."
Puck looked at her, his mouth lightly hung open with shock. She wasn't intimidated by it.
"Maybe you should draw more. I know you're good at it, I've seen some of your doodles, they looked pretty good. Or coloring! I heard that many grown ups are doing it now, they say it helps you relax? I don't know, just do the things you always wanted, but never got the time or the support to do it."
This girl could talk. He didn't know if she was usually like this or if it was an effect of the alcohol. Anyway, there's one thing that caught his attention.
"How do you know I haven't played chess? Months? For how long have you been coming here?"
She laughed at his question. "Wow, that was all you got from the little speech I just gave you? You've got bigger issues than getting dumped by scary lady."
"Yes, I do. One of them being that some crazy blonde chick's been coming to my place for, apparently, more than a few months, without me knowing it."
Quinn took a deep breath and shook her head. "I feel like we're running in circles now. Will you just let these small details go and let me help you?"
"Help me? You didn't know I needed help when you came here today. What are you even doing here to begin with?"
She looked down before getting up. "Ok, I'm gonna go now. See you around." She shouted, before making her way inside his house.
He got up and went after her, not only because he didn't trust a stranger inside his house, but also because she left something behind. When he caught up with her, she was already at the door.
"Hey, Quinn, you forgot the vodka."
"Don't worry about it, I'll be back sometime this week to claim my bottle". She gave him a little wink before closing the door behind her.
Puck let his head fall and hit the door. This all was surreal. He decided to go to sleep before anything even crazier could happen. Maybe he would wake up the next day and realize that it was all a bad dream. He went to bed hoping for that.
Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think.