III.
When Rachel arrived at Benny's that Saturday night, she immediately felt out of place. Nearly everybody else was in jeans and plaid. She was wearing a skin tight red dress and four inch black heels, which hadn't mixed well with the snow and ice in the parking lot. There were shiny, colorful banners hung on the walls and strung from the ceiling, exclaiming Happy New Years and Welcome to 2012! A few people were wearing awful 2012 glasses and tiaras and beaded necklaces; in the corner were a group of people blowing celebratory horns even though it was hours away.
Her eyes darted to and fro and she very carefully maneuvered through the crowd, trying her best not to attract attention. It wasn't working seeing as mostly everyone was staring at her and her out of place attire. She cleared her throat and waved awkwardly.
A familiar laugh caught her attention and she turned to find Puck leaning against the bar.
"You came," he said, though he didn't sound surprised.
His eyes ran over her with an eager, hungry look. He licked his lips and flicked the toothpick hanging out the side of his mouth with his tongue.
She squeezed her thighs tight and walked toward him. "I don't know how long I can stay," she told him, before leaning over and asking the bartender for a diet coke.
He turned to her, his arm brushing hers, and she felt the distinct warmth of his body all down her side. He leaned in close, lips brushing her ear. "We could walk outta here right now and nobody would care… I could kiss you in front of all these people and they wouldn't think it was wrong… They'd just think you were my girl…" He tucked her hair behind her ear, finger lingering to trace the shell. "'Cause you are my girl, aren't you?"
She leaned into his touch, eyes falling to half-mass. The glass in front of her was sweating; she wrapped her hand around it to take some of the cold chill into her body. She felt too warm; her skin nearly on fire.
His hot breath skittered against her ear. "Say you're mine…"
She looked up at him, the sharp angles of his face stood out more in the low lighting of the bar.
He circled around her, arms braced on either side, and he dropped his chin to her shoulder, his nose lightly nuzzling her neck.
She arched herself back into the length of his body and relished the feeling of his legs pressed up against the backs of her thighs.
"Say you want me…"
She leaned her head back against his shoulder. "Noah…"
His arm slid around her waist, hand splayed against her stomach. She could feel the heat of it branding her through her thin dress. "You get all dolled up for me, Rachel?"
She shook her head faintly. "New Years… I… There's a party, later…"
He chuckled lowly, lips ghosting against her skin. "Got an escape plan? Sneak out the back when I'm too much? When I'm too honest?"
Her breath hitched as his hand slid up higher, thumb rubbing over her ribs.
Her hand shook against her glass and she finally planted them down on the bar, looking for stability as her knees trembled.
"You told Adams to fuck off… You came looking for me when I left you alone… You got all dressed up to come see, some forty minutes away from home…" He pressed into her and dragged his teeth over the tendon in her neck. "You still wanna tell me you don't want me too?"
Her hand covered his right before it cupped her breast and his fingers twined with hers.
"I…" She swallowed tightly. "Just because I want you doesn't mean I should be with you." She shook her head, searching for clarity through a fog of desire. "It isn't right."
He reached up and brushed her hair back and out of the way, she could feel the soft strands sift over her skin, before he nuzzled the nape of her neck and breathed her in. "It could be really right if you'd let it." He let her go and stepped back, leaning on the bar again, elbows resting on either side of him, looking completely relaxed while she felt wound up and hot and overwhelmingly disappointed to not have him holding her.
She looked over at him, flustered and unsure. "Noah?"
"We're up next," he told her, reaching over and scooping up her coke before downing most of it in a few thick gulps. "You gonna stick around or you need to get back to that party waitin' on you?"
She licked her lips and darted her eyes to the open mic at the front. "We?" she asked, brows lifted.
"Yeah… You're gonna sing with me."
She knotted her hands together, panic making her tremble. "I… I haven't sung for a very long time. I—I'm probably not even that good anymore."
He raised a brow. "You're good at everything," he told her, and reached out to take her hand, squeezing it lightly.
She stared at him, brows furrowed. "How do you do that?"
"What?"
"Go from being this overwhelmingly…" She glanced away. "Sexual and passionate person to—to being so supportive and understanding. It—It's like a switch. You tease me into a frenzy one second and then you say something so—so sweetthe next. I…" She huffed with puzzled irritation. "I never know what to expect with you… I feel like as much as I think I understand you, I'm only just scratching the surface."
He gazed back at her, head cocked. "Sometimes you need me to be passionate… You need me to remind you you're a woman and you wanna be touched, you wanna be held… And sometimes you just need me to remind you that you're good enough. That you're talented too… That you're better than a desk job and living some safe, easy life…" He turned to her, shaking his head. "Rachel, you want more, you just won't let yourself have it… Not in your work or with me."
"How do you know?" she wondered, brows furrowed. "When even I couldn't figure it out…"
"When you talk about me getting out of Lima, you're excited and you're sad… Like you want me to get out, but you wish you hadn't lost your chance…" He shrugged. "But you still got a chance." He stared at her seriously. "You're twenty-one, you got your whole damn life ahead of you… You could quit tomorrow and go wherever you want and just, start over, be who you wanna be… Love who you wanna love."
She offered him a disenchanted smile. "It's not that easy, Noah."
"It is." He reached out and curled his finger beneath her chin, lifting it. "All you gotta do is take your chance…"
She stared at him, feeling his words like a spark of hope, lighting something deep down in her heart. Her eyes skittered down to his inviting lips and she remembered that he wasn't going to kiss her, he wasn't going to chase her; the ball was in her court, so they say.
"Just like that?"
"Exactly like that."
She leaned into him, one of her hands resting on his shoulder, and she tilted her head up, her eyes catching his. She could feel his breath leave him quickly, warm against her mouth. His eyes moved from hers to her lips and back, waiting, hoping.
"Noah and Rachel, c'mon up!" called a voice over the mic.
Startled, Rachel turned her head to see a man up on the front stage, long dark hair in a pony-tail and square glasses that he squinted through, searching the crowd.
"Is there a Noah and Rachel out there? Come on, guys… Last chance or we hand the spot over to someone else…"
She bit her lip and then turned her eyes to him. A chance, right there in front of her, she thought.
"We're here," she said, loud enough to catch the man's attention. "We'll sing."
Puck half-smiled at her, before his hand slid around to the small of her back and he ushered her toward the stage. He grabbed his guitar, leaning against the bar, and kept close behind her. She climbed the stairs and stood awkwardly beneath the lights, staring out at the waiting crowd with some trepidation.
Puck took his guitar out and hooked it over his neck before moving over to stand next to her.
"We got this," he promised.
"You've never heard me sing," she reminded.
He grinned. "They start throwing shit, you might wanna ditch the heels… Too hard to run in."
She frowned at him.
With a light shrug, he asked her if she knew a particular duet and while she hesitated to agree, she eventually nodded.
He started strumming his guitar in the familiar tune and she nodded her head along to it, counting the beats silently.
As he leaned in, not the least bit uncomfortable with the crowd, she watched his lips lightly brush the microphone and his voice, deeper than she'd ever heard it, filled the entire room. Sound stopped, or perhaps it was just natural for her to feel as if everything but him had faded away.
I'm gonna wear you down…
I'm gonna make you see…
I'm gonna get to you,
You're gonna give in to me…
He turned his head and looked up at her and she felt his promise right down to the tips of her toes.
Swallowing tightly, she dropped her eyes to watch his fingers glide over the strings.
I'm gonna start a fire…
You're gonna feel the heat…
I'm gonna burn for you…
You're gonna melt for me…
She suppressed a shiver that ran fluidly down her back, making her skin prickle and her heart race.
She raised her eyes to his and leaned in to add her voice to the mix, his arm lightly brushed against hers.
Come on, come on…
Into my arms,
Come on, come on…
Give in to me…
As he leaned back, she closed her eyes and let her voice rise up from somewhere deep inside her. Somewhere often forgotten; somewhere ignored and unappreciated. She let free the voice she'd once thought could move others to tears.
You're gonna take my hand…
Whisper the sweetest words…
She brought her hands up to her heart and rocked her hips along with the beat, tipping her head to the side, hair gliding over her shoulders.
And if you're ever sad,
I'll make you laugh,
I'll chase the hurt…
When she looked back at him, he was grinning, knowingly, proudly, and she answered with a smile of her own.
Their voices harmonized once more, and she had to admit, they did sound good together.
My heart is set on you…
I don't want no one else…
And if you don't want me,
I guess I'll be all by myself…
For a moment, she simply forgot about everybody else and watched his lips as they moved along with hers.
Come on, come on…
Into my arms,
Come on, come on…
Give in to me…
She took a step toward him and felt her heart lurch as she sang to him, as her hand touched his arm, fingers spread along his tensed bicep.
His eyes met hers, brow knotted.
I'll use my eyes to draw you in,
Until I'm under your skin…
His gaze fell to her mouth, tongue dabbing at his own lips.
I'll use my lips,
I'll use my arms,
She shook her head emotionally, her fingers gripping the sleeve of his shirt tightly, and her eyes closed.
Come on, come on, come on
Give into me…
When she met his eyes again, they sang softly along with the last few strums of his guitar.
Give into me…
Give into me…
As the clapping reached her ears, she turned back to see the bar patrons were on their feet, hooting and hollering, whistling and clapping. She laughed, tucking her hair behind her ears nervously. She felt wonderful; powerful; free. Noah tucked his guitar behind him and wrapped an arm around her waist, giving her a squeeze.
"What'd I tell you?" he asked, ducking his head down so she could hear him.
She looked up at him and, with a heavy heart beating loud in her chest, replied, "Thank you."
He nodded, half-smiling.
And when the crowd demanded an encore, he just laughed, letting her go and drawing his guitar back in front of him. "You heard 'em, B…"
Excitedly, she offered up another modern duet and he didn't so much as hesitate.
They sang the night away; old, new, country, rock, even Babs and Diamond.
And when she needed a drink to soothe her throat and she was sure somebody else wanted a chance, they went back to the bar and spent an hour at a table, just talking.
He played with her fingers on the table top and she stopped searching the room nervously for people who wouldn't approve. Instead she focused on how his rough fingertips felt against her skin.
"So your reputation…" she said, letting it trail off, her brow raised curiously. She stared down into her drink because she wasn't sure she wanted to see his face.
"With women," he said knowingly.
She glanced at him. "Multiple," she said. "And from what I've heard, actual women. Not… Not girls your age…" She shook her head, hair falling into her eyes.
Before she could reach for it, he had, brushing it away from where it was caught on her lashes, tracing her cheek with his thumb.
"I get around," he admitted. And then, with a frown, corrected himself, "I got around."
Her lips pursed, unsure, skeptical. Her heart was pounding and this time, it wasn't in a good way.
"Look, I'm not gonna lie and say I wasn't the guy who got with anything that moved." He shrugged. "I did… Girls my age, chicks in college, a whole lot of cougars…"
Her nose wrinkled.
"It wasn't always something I tried for. It just… came easy to me." He half-smiled. "They liked the bag-boy image and I loved women… Loved being wanted." He tapped his finger against the table and caught her eyes. "But it's not the same with you, Rachel…"
She scoffed slightly, casting her eyes away. "Then why do I feel like that was a very generic line?"
He took her hand and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. "I've had three girlfriends since I was sixteen," he told her. "Santana likes girls now and dumped me 'cause my credit score sucked. Quinn I stole from best friend and dumped me not long after we had to give up our baby up for adoption. And Lauren I tried really damn hard with, but she still dumped me 'cause she thought me and glee club were bringin' down her rep." He shrugged. "Look, I slept with a lotta girls, but the last three relationships I had weren't exactly ego boosters…" He shook his head. "I don't date 'cause I'm pretty sure I suck at it… But also 'cause every time I try to be with someone, they kick me to the curb…" He stared at her searchingly. "So sleeping around worked for me. I was good at it." He licked his lips. "But I want things to be different with you…" He stared up at her from beneath the heavy line of his brows. "My past with girls is for shit, but I didn't spend four months doing everything I could to get them to gimme a chance… And I'm not spending New Years Eve chasing tail…" He half-smiled. "I'm with you and I wanna be here… I want this, us, to be different."
When her heart skittered that time, it was for the right reason.
"How do you know it's different?"
"'Cause I wanna know you… I—I wanna know about your life and your family and just, whatever's goin' on in that crazy head of yours…" He grinned.
She smiled. "Then ask me something. Anything…"
"What's your favorite song?" he wondered.
Her eyes lit up.
He listened intently as she spoke, about her favorite songs, favorite films, favorite books. Excitedly, she asked him for the same in return. And those women that had once been in his life, whether they were brief liaisons or long-term relationships, became less and less important. Partly because, as he spoke, she felt as though she were the first person learning those things about him. Like he'd never been asked what his favorite book was, or why, never had to explain it. And she was both happy and saddened by that. All those people, in and out of his life, taking what they want and giving little in return. Had nobody cared to ask? To wonder? In the end, she decided it must have been a two-way street. Because the man in front of her was eager to know about her; eager to learn about her childhood and her parents and her likes and dislikes. So if those women hadn't asked, perhaps neither had he. Maybe, before her, he simply hadn't cared.
It was ten minutes to midnight when she told him, "I have a Hanukkah present for you in my car."
He raised a brow, lips twitching.
She rolled her eyes. "No, I mean a real present." She laughed lightly. "Would you like to know what it is?"
He wiggled his eyebrows at her. "I was kinda hoping it was you losing the dress in the backseat."
Biting her lip, she shook her head, even as a flush of excitement warmed her skin. "I'm sure you were…"
"What is it?" he asked.
"Well, it's nothing compared to the eight fantastic gifts you got me, but…" She shrugged. "It's sheet music." She squeezed his hand. "I've heard you sing, Noah." She glanced at the stage. "I've sung with you. And you're so talented…" She stared at him searchingly. "I really hope you'll follow that somewhere."
Licking his lips, he nodded, staring down at her hand in his. "My dad used to play too… Ma always said he chased that dream right out of our family and into a whole new level of dead-bead dad syndrome." He shook his head, scrubbing his fingers through his 'hawk. "He never got anywhere with it… And a little bit of me is always scared I'm gonna be just like him…"
She shook her head, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles. "Noah, you gave up your daughter so she would have a better life. And this, wanting to be better, wanting to get out of Lima and explore your talents…" She smiled gently. "That's nothing short of admirable."
Brows furrowed, he nodded, still staring hard at the table. "And if I fuck it up?"
"Then you try again." She lifted a shoulder in a faint shrug. "You've got your whole life to make mistakes and fix them. To chase your dreams and catch them… Why give up early?"
"You tell me." He met her eyes. "Why'd you?"
She leaned back, but he held tight to her hand.
"Your voice…?" He shook his head, eyes wide with sincerity. "I've never heard anything so amazing…" His brows furrowed. "Why'd you give up on it?"
She swallowed tightly. "My…" She clenched her teeth as a well of emotion bit at her throat. "My birth mother was a struggling singer…" She shook her head. "She didn't want to meet me. She thought, I don't know, maybe it would be too difficult or… Or maybe she just didn't want me. I was just a—a means to an end; a step toward reaching her ultimate goal of stardom. I know my dads paid her heftily for her services, that nothing more was expected of her, but…" She bit her lip. "What I know is that I look a lot like her and I—I sound like her. And when I was growing up, I just, I thought that if she didn't want me then I didn't want her, I didn't want to be anything like her." She lifted her chin and licked her lips. "So I chose a smart path. I focused on my studies and I told myself that I would do the responsible thing. And singing… Relying on my one talent. It—It didn't seem like the smart thing to do for me." She raised her eyes to meet his. "And I don't know if that was right. But I do know that your voice will take you somewhere, even if it's just out of Lima. What matters is that you explore it and you let yourself be swept away in those dreams and those ambitions. Because I can tell you that not doing it, not reaching for it…? It only brings disappointment."
"Ten—"
"Nine—"
"So what if you took it now?" he wondered. When she went to argue, he shook his head. "What if you came with me?"
"Six—"
"Five—"
"Noah, you don't know what you're asking…"
"I do." He nodded, staring at her meaningfully. "Come with me, Rachel."
"Two—"
"One—"
"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"
Confetti was tossed and horns were blown, cheering and laughing, hooting and hollering filled the room so loud she could hardly hear herself think.
So she didn't.
Instead, she leaned in and she kissed him.
She took her chance.
It was even better than she remembered.
She found herself drawn into his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck, her mouth slanting back and forth against warm, firm lips. Their noses bumped, nuzzled. His teeth grazed, nipped, her lips, her tongue. And his fingers danced over her neck, stroked through her hair, slid down her back, traced the line of the zipper on her dress.
She spent the first ten minutes of 2012 in Noah Puckerman's arms and she didn't, couldn't, wouldn't regret it.
.o.
He twirled her in the parking lot and she laughed, the sound echoing out around them. Spinning, she tossed her head back to watch the snowflakes fall, landing on her hair and her lashes.
She stuck her tongue out to catch them and he just watched, a grin tugging at his mouth.
She was beautiful and happy and he didn't want it to go away. But he knew, as soon as they were back in Lima, she would tell him they couldn't be together. They were wrong. People wouldn't like it.
Puck couldn't remember a time when he ever really cared what other people thought. Yeah, he liked being a badass; he liked striking fear in the kids at school. And when he didn't have his popularity, he felt it, and he didn't like it. But he couldn't think of one time he ever felt bad about who he was or what he'd done. He had regrets, sure. Knocking up his best friend's girlfriend, even if he couldn't regret Beth entirely. Stealing that ATM last year. Juvie. Making his ma look at him like she did; like he was just like his dad.
But his personality, who he was, he never regretted that. He liked himself. He liked that he went for what he wanted, whether it was a cougar or a girl at school. Or the secretary that he never thought he'd want this much. This badly. And it wasn't just one of those moments, one of those times where he wanted something only until he got it. 'Cause he wanted to see where this could go. He wanted to know what it'd be like to wake up and turn over and find her there, beside him. He wanted to show her off, to his friends and his ma, like that one thing he did right. It wasn't school or graduating. It was getting this amazing woman to give him the time of day.
She stumbled on her feet, breathing heavy, and reached out to take his hand, spinning herself back into him, body pressed up tight to his, hair littered with little white, melting snowflakes. She grinned up at him widely.
"This was the best New Year's of my life," she told him breathlessly, eyes big and wide and sincere.
He slipped his arms around her waist and leaned in until the tips of their noses touched. "It could always be like this, y'know… I could walk outta school tomorrow… We could jump in my truck and just, hit the road…" He stared at her searchingly. "Never look back."
"Oh, Noah…" She framed his face with her hands, soft and cold. "That's very tempting."
"So do it," he encouraged, squeezing her.
"It's too soon… You're not thinking of the consequences."
"What consequences? So I don't finish high school. Hell, most people didn't think I would anyway." He shrugged. "I don't need a diploma to sing, Rachel…" He slid his hand up her back and rubbed the nape of her neck. "We could do this. Me and you, we could go bar to bar, town to town, city to city, and just… Sing. Chase those dreams. Both of us."
She licked her lips and slid her hands around to his neck, lacing her fingers. "And what happens when we run out of money? When we don't have any gas, nowhere to sleep, nothing?"
"We sing for our supper," he said, shrugging. "Or I—I'll sling hash, get enough for us to keep moving…" He shook his head. "It's not always gonna be easy or fun. But it'll be worth it."
"It sounds lovely, Noah, but—"
"Just, think about it, okay?" He rubbed her back. "You don't have to say anything now… You wanna wait, I can wait…" He half-smiled. "I'm a patient kinda guy."
She laughed. "Is that what you've been? Because I thought it was stubborn and persistent."
He shrugged. "That too."
Smiling, she nodded. "Fine. I'll think about it." She raised her eyebrows. "In the meantime, please keep going to school…" She shook her head. "Just because you don't think you'll need it, doesn't mean it won't benefit you…"
He pursed his lips. "Sure."
She kissed him briefly. "We have to go back."
He shook his head slightly and caught her lips again. "In a minute…"
They spent twenty in the freezing cold before he finally let her get in her car.
He watched her drive away before hopping in his truck and heading back to Lima.
He could still feel her on his lips.
.o.
She called him Sunday.
His brows furrowed as he answered. "How'd you get my number?"
She laughed. "I have my ways…"
He rolled his eyes knowingly. "You looked me up at school, didn't you?"
"Well I wasn't nearly as badass as you were, breaking and entering as you did, but I might have, possibly, looked up your phone number previously… And happened to remember it."
He snorted, leaning back in his desk chair. "Knew you wanted me…"
She scoffed. "If you'd been late anymore than you were, I was going to have to call your mother in to discuss a suspension with Principal Figgins."
"Yeah, sure, that's why you memorized my number."
"If you're quite done implying that I was lusting after you, I was going to see what you were doing today…"
He sat up quickly. "Seriously?"
"Well… Yes," she said, sounding suddenly nervous. "I'm not sure we'll be able to spend much time out in public, but—"
"You wanna get cozy somewhere out of sight?" He smirked. "I'm down."
She chuckled lightly. "Would you like to come over and… watch a movie, Noah?"
He grinned, ducking his head and scrubbing his fingers through his hair. "Yeah. That'd be cool."
"Wonderful."
Address in hand, Puck grabbed up his coat and quickly dragged on his shoes, not even bothering to tie them up. He gave his ma a kiss on the cheek when she asked him where he was going and told her he'd see her later. He swore it felt like he'd hit every red light on the way, but eventually he was standing outside her apartment, buzzing her place.
They legit spent the first day of January watching movies and kissing on her couch. And when she fell asleep in his arms, face nuzzled into his chest, fingers gripping his sweater lightly, he just rested his chin on her hair and smiled to himself. Maybe this one time, his hopes wouldn't end up kicking him in the ass.
.o.
When school started back up, they had to be more careful. He wasn't late to class and he didn't show up in her office for break or lunch. But as soon as glee let out or football practice was over and he didn't have a shift at Hummel Tires or he had a few minutes before he had to race home and watch the brat, he stopped in at her apartment and they made good use of the couch. She wouldn't sleep with him and once or twice he heard her mutter, "No going back," so he figured she wasn't completely sold on them yet. But he was breaking down her defenses.
"Are these your dads?" he wondered, standing at the mantel where a picture of two men with their arms around each other were grinning back. One was white with distinguished silver hair and black square glasses, the other black, with curly dark hair and an imperiously quirked brow. They were both wearing bright, bright colors and he swore he saw Rachel's smile in both of them.
"Yes!" She paused next to him, glancing from him to the picture. "This one's Leroy, and this one's Hiram," she said, pointing to each. "They're wonderful."
He nodded. "They know you wanted to be a singer?"
"Mm-hm. When I was growing up, before I know anything about Shelby, I was very interested in the arts… And I was absolutely sure that I was going to be a famous singer or actress…" She smiled softly. "My dads told me they would support me in anything." She laughed slightly. "They even signed me up for dancing lessons…" She waved a finger and suddenly hurried away. When she came back, she was holding a picture of herself, much younger, in a bright red tutu, ringed with gold sequins. She had one hand on her hip and the other behind her head as she made some kind of dramatic dance move. "I was a little… eager."
He laughed, raising a brow at the picture. "You were cute." He leaned the picture up on the mantel next to her dads. "Still are."
She blushed, cleared her throat, and turned on her heel. "Thank you." She paused next to her couch and fluffed her pillows for a distraction.
He grinned to himself. Even after all this time, she still got nervous around him; flustered by his attention. "So Mr. Shue asked me if I wanted to take a solo for Regionals next month."
She looked over at him, eyes wide and excited. "Really?" She clapped her hands together. "Noah, that's wonderful!"
"Yeah." He shrugged, even though inside he was pretty proud of himself. "So, uh… I was thinkin', y'know… Maybe you could help with my song."
Her brows hiked. "I'd love to sing with you again." She nodded, taking a seat on her couch. "Is there anything in particular you were thinking about?"
"Actually…" He turned his bag over from his shoulder and dug out the sheet paper she'd given him, marked Composed by: Noah Puckerman at the top. "I was thinking I might write one myself…" He circled the table to sit down next to her. "And since you're so good with words… Maybe we could write it together."
Her eyes widened and she stared at him, mouth slightly ajar.
With a grin, he signed beneath his own name, & Rachel Berry.
The tears in her eyes said she was touched; the half hour she spent making out with him sans both their shirts said he was making some serious progress.
.o.
She started putting money away; it was just a little bit, here or there. She tucked it away in an unmarked jar she kept on a shelf.
She told herself she was saving it for a rainy day, for unexpected expenses in the future, like how her car had broken down suddenly. If it hadn't been for Noah, she was sure she'd be in-debt with Hummel Tires.
Sometimes, however, she let the pretenses fall away and she would admit to herself that it was really for long weeks on the road, in-between gigs, helping them scrape by until they hit it big.
On a whim, she taped a piece of paper to the jar and marked it, Dreams. To remind herself, even when she was holding denial too close, that she still had them, and they weren't so out of reach.
.o.
"Puck?" Mr. Shuester asked as he was packing up his things, eyes darting to the clock quickly.
"Uh, yeah?"
"I was hoping I could talk to you about your solo. See how your song was coming, if you needed any help…"
"Nah, no, I got it handled…" He started backing up toward the door. "Listen, I gotta go, gotta watch my sister and… stuff…"
"Oh, that's fine. Just… Let me know if you need any help, all right?"
He saluted him and turned on his heel to leave the room.
Finn caught up to him halfway across the parking lot. "Hey man, listen, uh… I heard you and Mr. Shue talking…"
"Yeah, and?" He raised an impatient brow.
"Well, it's Tuesday…" His face screwed up in confusion. "Doesn't your sister have dance lessons today? It worked out 'cause you have glee, so you don't have to worry about picking her up… Your mom does on her way back from work."
Puck frowned. "What're you, Sherlock Holmes now?"
"What? No. I just… I..." He sighed, glancing away. "I guess I just wanted to see what was up… You're not in the office every day anymore, thought maybe…" He shrugged, half-smiling. "You finally hooked up with the secretary or…?"
He looked away. "No. She wasn't goin' for it. I moved on."
Finn stared at him a long second. "All right… You say so."
"I do." Reaching his truck, he yanked open the door, casting a frown back at him as he walked toward his own truck. "Hey, you're not pissed I got the solo, right?"
He shook his head, shrugging. "It's cool… You've been workin' your ass off for this… Didn't even think you liked glee that much."
Puck nodded. "Later."
As he climbed into his truck and took off out of the parking lot, he thought it over. He was working pretty hard. In fact, he'd been doing better in school all senior year. And glee, singing and music and all that, it really did matter to him. Ever since he really considered how it might get him out of Lima, he started taking it more seriously. Started considering it his one big opportunity. And this song he was writing, it was gonna be big. It was gonna show them all what he was made of; that he was better than Lima, better than his father, better than they ever expected.
.o.
"Tell me about your dad?" she asked.
They were lying on her bed, their legs tangled, her head on his shoulder, and she was playing with a button on his shirt.
"Not much to say," he replied, glancing down, at the shiny, dark hair that'd gotten tangled while they were rolling around.
She turned her head, chin perched on him, and stared up at him a long moment. "How old were you when he left?"
He shrugged, lips pursed. "I dunno…" His brows furrowed. "Young…" He reached out and traced the curve of her cheek with his thumb. "Younger than Becca is now… Ma was still pregnant with her when he walked out." He sucked his teeth, glaring at some far off spot in her bedroom.
"Becca's eleven," she said, a note of concern in her voice. Her brows furrowed. "Noah, you would've only been six… sevenat best."
"Yeah." He laughed humorlessly. "Think I had a baseball game that day…" He nodded. "He was supposed to be there. And he didn't—I mean, he didn't always show up, y'know? But I always hoped he would…" He shook his head, his jaw ticking. "Like I always checked the bleachers, the other dads, lookin' for his face in the crowd…" He licked his lips. "Wasn't there though. Wasn't really surprised…" He shrugged. "So when the game was over… We won," he added dismissively, "I rode my bike home, left it in the front yard like my ma always bitched at me not to do… And I was—" He swallowed tightly. "I was halfway up the porch stairs and he walked out, duffel bag over his shoulder, guitar case in his hand…"
Her hand rubbed over his chest, his heart, in slow, soothing circles.
"He didn't stop… Walked right past me, threw his stuff in his car… And then he looked back at me and he said, 'Don't waste your life like I did, kid.'" He ground his teeth. "Last words of wisdom because he just drove off and never looked back…" He covered her hand on his chest and played with her fingers. "My ma never cried over him… Not any time I could hear, anyway. Acted like it was no big deal, we didn't need him, we'd be fine…" He nodded. "And we were. Kinda."
She threaded their fingers and wondered, "Do you ever miss him?"
"Yeah, sure… The guy who actually showed up to my games, taught me to play guitar, gave me my first football…" He nodded. "I miss that guy."
"I bet he misses you too," she murmured.
He looked at her, hating that his eyes were burning, wet. "Yeah?" he rasped.
"He would be a fool not to," she said fiercely, staring searchingly into his eyes.
"S'okay," he muttered, stroking her hair back from her face. "His loss, right?"
"Absolutely," she agreed. She crawled up the bed and kissed him, slow and deep. He buried his hand in her hair, cradled the nape of her neck and kept her close. A few lingering, sipping kisses later and she laid down half on top of him again.
He had another hour before he had to be home, so he spent it just holding her.
.o.
The first time he slept over, he was confused when he woke up. He raised his head up, one eye still closed, and looked around for some kind of cue to where he was. Then he spotted her and relaxed.
She had the softest pillows like, ever. And her bed was just huge. He didn't even know what she needed a bed that big for since she was legit tiny. But it made for a good time all the same.
It was the first time he'd ever stayed the night at a chick's place and didn't have to worry about a dad or a son or a boyfriend showing up. It was also the first time he'd stayed over and not gotten laid the night before. Rachel was still putting the brakes on that and honestly, it didn't bug him as much as he might've thought. Especially since waking up with her was even better than he'd thought it would be. It was early Saturday morning and she was actually sleeping in. She had a crazy work-out schedule she usually followed, but they'd been up late. They had their own little movie night, equipped with take-out and junk food, and went back and forth between the shoot 'em up movies he liked and the classic musicals she loved.
Her hair was a tangled mess and she was snoring lightly; she had her hands flattened beneath her head and she kept muttering about something he couldn't quite make out. She was cute, wearing nothing more than a flimsy yellow camisole and panties.
The sun was coming in through the window and it was long before noon, so instead of getting up or waking her up, he wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her over into him. She sighed softly and nuzzled her face against his chest, murmuring Noah. He was smiling as he fell back asleep.
Later, when they both managed to get out of bed, she taught him how to make vegan waffles.
His favorite part was licking syrup off her skin.
.o.
Puck was surprised to find his ma at home. Last he heard, she had a late shift and she needed him to watch Becca. "Hey…?" he said, walking into the kitchen to find her at the stove.
She grinned up at him. "You're home."
He nodded. "Yeah, uh, you said you needed me to watch Becks…" He looked around in confusion. "Thought you had work."
She shrugged, leaning her hip against the counter. "I called in sick."
He raised a brow at her. That wasn't like her, which meant something serious had to be up.
With a sigh, she explained, "You're never home anymore unless you have to be…" She nodded her chin at the table. "Get that set."
He rolled his eyes at the demand but started grabbing out everything while she talked.
"You've been working for Burt," she said, her question obvious.
"Yeah… He's cool. It's just a couple shifts here or there…" He dropped a fork and knife at all three seats at the table. "Why? You need some money?"
She shook her head. "No. I just… It's nice… To see you working."
He glanced back at her, brows furrowed. "I worked at Sheets N' Things last year."
"Yes." She scoffed. "And you hated it."
"Boring," he muttered.
She crossed her arms over her chest loosely. "But you like working at Hummel Tires?"
He nodded, pouring his sister a glass of juice.
"And you're still in glee? On the football team?"
"Yeah, ma… Why?" He looked over at her wonderingly. "You hear something?"
"No, no…" She put her hands on her hips and drummed her fingers. She waited a minute before finally just asking, "You gotta girlfriend or something?"
He froze, eyes darting down to the table. "Why?"
"Noah," she said, amusement lacing her voice. "Like I said, you're never home, you got this job for a little extra money, you're going to school, putting in a real effort…" She shook her head. "Whattya want me to think? You're shapin' up… I—I'm proud of you."
He stared at her, his eyes wide.
"So…" She waved an oven mitt at the stove. "I made your favorite… To show you I noticed."
His eyebrows hiked. "Seriously?"
She half-smiled. "Look, I know I'm busy… But you're my boy and maybe I'm not around enough to say it, but you've really grown up… I dunno what it is about your senior year, bubbala, but you've got your head on straight… It's just nice to see."
He grinned, scrubbing a hand over his 'hawk.
"So…" She raised a brow. "When am I gonna meet this girl in your life?"
"Ma…" he whined.
With a laugh, she nodded. "Fine. Keep your secrets." She waved a finger at him. "But I'll meet her eventually, you mark my words."
He rolled his eyes and, before she could grill him anymore, shouted at his sister to come down for dinner.
Much as he appreciated that his ma was noticing how different he was lately, he wasn't so sure she wouldn't take back her brisket when she realized he was dating his school's secretary.
.o.
Her bra was shoved down to her ribs, his hand covering one of her perky, little tits, their mouths slanting together and their hips rocking and meeting when he suddenly remembered.
"Oh shit," he cursed, tripping as he jumped off her bed.
Sitting up on her bed, she blinked in confusion. "What?" Her brows furrowed. "Did I bite you again?"
He snorted. "Yeah, but I like that…" He shrugged, readjusting himself in his jeans.
She rolled her eyes and tugged her bra back into place. "Noah!"
"The hell's my shirt?" he wondered, searching in circles around his feet, kicking colorful pillows out of his way. "'N why do you have so many pillows for your bed?"
She shrugged. "Because they're pretty… And they match the bedspread."
"Babe…" He grabbed his t-shirt up from where he found it and tugged it over his head. "You throw 'em all on the floor anyway. And nobody sees these things but me…" He shook his head. "So who are they pretty for?"
She smiled, telling him simply, "Me."
He laughed under his breath before he circled her bed and dropped a hand down on either side of her, holding himself up as he leaned in to kiss her. "I gotta go… 'M already late… I picked up a shift with Burt."
She kissed him twice more before raising her brows wonderingly. "Another one?"
He nodded, nipping at her lip. "Valentine's Day next month." He wiggled his eyebrows.
She laughed. "Noah, you don't have to get me anything…" She tugged on his shirt. "You should save your money… For when you leave Lima," she reminded.
He nuzzled her nose. "When we leave…" Not waiting for her to argue or agree, he leaned back. "'Kay, I gotta head. I'll see you tomorrow." He walked out of her room, backwards. "'Less I get off early and ma's home… Then I'm comin' back…"
She grinned after him. "Fingers crossed."
With a wink, he turned on his heel and left.
Rachel flopped back on her bed and sighed; her lips still tingled.
.o.
"What's this?" he asked, arms wrapping around her waist and chin balancing on her shoulder.
Rachel leaned her head against his. "Dinner," she told him.
"S'vegan?"
"Mmhmm." She stirred it. "Just trust me and give it a chance." She smiled. "If you don't like it, we have BreadstiX on speed dial."
He snorted and squeezed her. "What's the white shit?"
She bit her lip. "Tofu."
"Seriously?"
She laughed. "Noah, I promise you, I'm not trying to poison you."
"You say so…" he muttered.
She elbowed him lightly.
"Oof!" he cried dramatically, stumbling away from her.
Giggling, she turned and tipped her head back to see his handsome smirk. Reaching out, she tugged on his shirt. "Next time, if you don't like what I made, you can bring over your dead animals and hide them in the crisper," she told him.
"Deal." He reached for her hips and drew her up close. "How was work today?"
She sighed and wrapped her arms around his waist, tipping her head back as his hand rose up to knead her neck softly. "Coach Sylvester came back three separate times to argue with Principal Figgins about the glee club…" She rolled her eyes. "Actually, the third time was to demand that she have a Gatorade fountain put in her office and to raise hell about the glee club."
He snorted. "No way."
Her eyes widened. "You know, she's very witty… But in a scary sort of way… It's really quite amazing how many different things she's compared Will's hair to…"
He chuckled. "Sylvester's crazy."
"Oh, completely," she agreed. Pursing her lips, she added, "But it's the kind of crazy that is increasingly smart and makes me fear for the lives of others…" She sighed, closing her eyes as his hands rubbed at her neck just right and she felt every muscle in her body turn to jello.
"Babe?"
"Hmm?"
"I think that tofu shit is burning."
Her eyes widened quickly and she turned back to the stove. "Rats!" she cried, grabbing up her spatula.
Luckily, it was salvageable. And while Noah told her he preferred dead animals, he also said it wasn't the worst thing he'd ever had. It was a start.
.o.
Some days, she wondered why she ever said no in the first place. Having him in her life, seeing him after work almost every day, it gave her something to look forward to. It wasn't always perfect, he was a very messy person while she was almost too organized, and those worlds collided quite noticeably, but they made it work. And she truly cherished all the time she got to spend with him, even if it was just watching TV and eating popcorn. Or watching him play his guitar and working on his song.
Sometimes, she simply forgot all about the fact that he was younger than her, he went to the school she worked at. It faded away to some unimportant fact about him. One easily dismissed, especially when he was kissing her or singing or playing with her fingers or making heart-shaped hickeys everywhere he could reach.
In all of her life, Rachel couldn't remember ever being quite this happy; this content with another person. She'd been in relationships, but they often blew up in her face. She was too needy or critical or she became someone else for that person, someone she didn't really like. But she was herself with Noah, unapologetically. And he was the same with her. Somehow, those two personalities fit and meshed together.
It made her think, made her dream, made her wonder about things she'd never taken the time to wonder about. Could she love this person? This man who, for all intents and purposes, was never supposed to mean this much to her. Did she even really have a choice?
.o.
In the beginning of February, they drove back out to Van Wert and stopped in at Benny's. Open mic didn't start for another hour, so Puck dropped a few coins in the juke box. Rachel was sitting at a table, stirring a thin red straw in her glass of diet coke. Her hair was curled, shiny, and draped down her back.
He held a hand out to her. "C'mon…"
She smiled up at him and took his hand.
The dance floor was empty; there weren't many people to begin with. There were a few people playing pool across the room and a few more sitting on stools at the bar. When the mic was open, it'd fill up with hooting, hollering patrons, but for right now, he could hardly head anything outside of the tune come from the juke box.
Rachel had traded in her tight red dress for a flowy black one with little grey birds all over it.
Hand spread over the small of her back, he drew her in so close that their steps were hardly more than swaying. Her head fell to his shoulder and he ducked his, her hair tickling his cheeks, and his lips brushing her ear as he sang along.
And I'd give up forever to touch you,
'Cause I know that you feel me somehow…
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be,
And I don't want to go home right now…
Her hand squeezed his shoulder and she turned her face to see him, her eyes watching his lips move.
And all I can taste is this moment…
And all I can breathe is your life…
And sooner or later it's over…
I just don't wanna miss you tonight…
He twirled her around and brought her in so her back was to his chest. He wrapped his arms low on her waist and nuzzled her neck.
Her breath hitched and her eyes fell closed, lashes brushing the tops of her cheeks.
And I don't want the world to see me…
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand…
When everything's meant to be broken…
I just want you to know who I am…
She slid a hand back around his neck and furled her fingers in the tail of his 'hawk, her other hand covering his at her waist, hips rocking side to side.
And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming…
Or the moment of truth in your lies…
When everything feels like the movies,
Yeah you bleed just to know you're alive…
Tipping her chin up, she sang the next chorus, her voice soft, only loud enough for him to hear.
And I don't want the world to see me…
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand…
When everything's meant to be broken…
I just want you to know who I am…
She turned in his arms and wrapped them back around his neck before drawing him down closer. He hugged her tight and buried his face in her neck.
"Let's go home," she murmured, her lips tickling his ear.
His hand slid up and down her back before he hooked his arm around her waist and they left the bar.
The ride back to Lima felt heavy; she took his hand and held it in her lap the whole way, tracing her fingers around his knuckles.
He was surprised that he felt nervous. He knew what this meant; he'd been wanting it from the beginning. But now that it was happening, now that he was really gonna have her… He swallowed tight and squeezed her fingers.
Forty minutes later, they were at her apartment building. He parked his truck in the visitor's area.
It was still pretty early for a Saturday night; his ma thought he was at Finn's. He figured they'd be at Benny's until closing and it wouldn't be the first time he'd slept over at her place.
She kissed him against her door as it closed behind them, stripping his jacket off him without pausing. She tossed it to the floor and reached for the end of his t-shirt. He leaned her back, meeting each hard, slanting press of her lips as his shirt was thrown away and he grabbed up the bottom of her dress. He didn't bother with the zipper; instead he tugged it up her body and she lifted her arms up to help.
He stared at her a long second, in just her pristine white lace underwear, her chest flushed and heaving, her dark hair spilling down her shoulders. And then he reached down and gripped the backs of her thighs in his palms; he lifted her up until her legs wrapped around his waist. Her arms slid around his neck, fingers threading in his hair.
She had a nice place; all exposed red brick and bright colors. The couch was old; he remembered she told him it the first thing she bought when she moved to Lima. Found it in a second hand store and loved the color. There was stain on the far right cushion; she spilled chocolate ice cream on it, vegan of course. It never came out so she just covered it with a throw pillow. He didn't even have to look as he walked her into her room; he'd been there so many times he had it memorized. Bookshelf on his left, stocked almost to overflowing. A cabinet full of movies, most of them musicals, on his right. She had all the Die Hards too though, because she loved Bruce Willis and they reminded her of her dads, who were also avid fans of his.
He laid her back on her bed and climbed up between her thighs. Her knees rose up and pressed into his sides. He slid his hands down the smooth skin of her thighs and looked at her dark hair, spread out around her head, her lips, pink and swollen and pinched by her teeth biting into them.
She reached for the front clasp of her bra and snapped it open, shrugging her shoulders and digging it out to toss away.
His eyes fell to her breasts, topped with beaded, dark nipples. He loved her boobs; he loved how they fit in his hand and his mouth and how she moved and breathed when he played with them, with his tongue, his fingers. He loved how she always held his head in close and arched up into his mouth. There was a flush spreading across her skin, reaching across her tits and up her neck. He ducked his head and nuzzled one with his nose before wrapping his lips around the center and sucking it between his teeth.
"Noah!" Her nails dug into his shoulders and she squeezed her legs around his waist.
He couldn't remember ever being called that when he was with a girl. Only her.
She slid her hands down his back, fingers dipping along each rigid muscle, before they flared out over his hips and she hooked her thumbs in his jeans.
He already knew where this was going, but he still wanted to make sure she was certain. She was the one going back and forth on this. The one who kept questioning whether they were right or not. She was the one who might have regrets after; regrets he wasn't sure he could handle.
He leaned up, kissed her chin, and opened his mouth to question it.
She parted his jeans and slid her hand beneath to grip his shaft and words left him.
"I know what I'm doing," she said against his tightly pressed lips. "I want this…" She stared up at him, fingers ghosting down his dick. "I want you."
He kissed her on a growl and she shoved his jeans down and out of the way as he did. He shuffled them off, kicking them to the floor and dropping his body down against hers.
"Oh." Her eyes widened as she stared up at him. He was hard against her stomach and he knew she could feel all of him. Her breath left her trembling lips. "I… It's been awhile."
"I can go slow."
She swallowed tightly. "I don't want you to."
For a moment there was nothing but their breaths meeting between their mouths, hot and heavy.
She held onto the back of his shoulders as she leaned up to meet his lips, taking his top lip between hers. Before she could get too lost in his kiss, and it wouldn't be the first time, she managed, "Mmph… Drawer… Top…"
He ignored it for a second, more interested in her tongue and her lips. But eventually, he reached past her and dug in the drawer, pulling out the unopened box of condoms there. He waved them at her with a panting smirk. "Prepared for me?"
"Prepared in general," she argued, before reaching for the box and setting on opening it.
He slid down her body and started pressing kisses from between her smooth, soft breasts to the top of her panties.
Her hands shook and it took her longer to tear the box open than it should have; her eyes darting from her task to his mouth, smoothing over her skin, nipping and licking as he went.
When she finally got it open, she took out a handful of condoms and dropped them to the bed next to her. One she took in her teeth to tear open.
He raised a brow at the rest. "Guess you're planning a long night."
She laughed throatily. "Long in coming."
He gripped the sides of her white underwear and slid them down her hips slowly, jerking them down just a few inches at time, his eyes on hers the whole time, watching as she bit down on her lower lip hard. "It'll be worth it," he promised.
And with her bare and her legs spread in front of him, he ducked his head down low and licked a long, teasing strip across her pussy, flicking her clit with the very tip of his tongue.
Her breath caught and she arched her hips, throwing her head back.
He pinned her down by her waist and kept her legs apart with his arms leaned on her thighs. He licked the opening notes to their song along her folds, tongue slipping inside her at random. She came before he'd even slipped his fingers inside her, thrusting slow and deep. She flooded his mouth; she tasted every bit as sweet as he expected.
Her nails scraped through his hair, her head shaking, his name spilling from her mouth like a desperate mantra.
He'd been with a lot of women, probably more than he ever should have, but this was different. This mattered to him.
He kissed her belly button while she came down, her finger stroking the back of his neck, her body still shaking, and her eyes fluttering.
She tugged on his hair and he climbed up her once more, pausing to swipe each of her nipples, quick and sudden.
She dragged her nails down the sides of his head, catching on the short bristles of hair as she went. She stared up at him, breath still leaving her heavily. "Tell me it's right."
"It's right." He dipped his head and kissed her, slowly, lingeringly. "It's right," he promised.
She breathed into his mouth, flicking his lips with her tongue. "I know."
Those words hit him hard in the chest. Even after this month they'd spent together, he'd still been waiting for her to change her mind, to back out. Sure, it'd been the best four weeks of his life, but he'd spent eighteen years before that being told everything he did was somehow wrong. He just expected her to do the same. Only she never did. She was always happy to see him, always proud of him, always eager for his touch. She was the first woman he'd ever been with that actually wanted to know him, good and bad. And the bad actually scared him; the bad always made him think there was too much weighed against him; too many reasons she should just cut her losses and walk away from him. But she didn't. And he'd never appreciated that more.
He slid the condom on easily and hiked her leg up on his hips. When he sunk into her, he met her eyes and their lips were just close enough to brush faintly. His brow furrowed; she was so tight and hot and soft all around him and beneath him. She cupped his face, her thumbs rubbing along his cheeks.
Puck wasn't sure he'd ever made love before, until that moment.
He'd fucked and he'd screwed and he'd nailed more women than he could probably count. And even Quinn, who he'd once thought he loved and who he'd had a baby with, he never really made love with.
But here, in this moment, with Rachel, he knew the difference.
It wasn't just soft or slow; it wasn't boring like he'd once thought it would be; it wasn't even all gentle.
It was just connected.
He had more invested in her than he'd ever had in another woman. He knew more about her, had shared more with her, and he…
He loved her.
He loved that he didn't always know what she was talking about; that sometimes he really did have to check out the pocket dictionary he kept on hand to figure out what she was saying, especially when she was upset and ranting. How she asked about his family and genuinely wanted to know about them. How she never failed to tell him that he was talented and he could do anything with his life. He loved that she was obsessed with musicals and Broadway; that she could actually recite, word for word, every one of them. He loved how she didn't eat meat but didn't begrudge him steak. That she made her own trail mix and always let him have half of it. And she started bringing real chocolate M&M's just for him and trading them for her vegan chocolate chips. He loved that she believed in him and trusted him and that she didn't judge him for Beth or all of his screw-ups or his pretty lengthy criminal record. He loved that when he sang, she melted, and when she sang, he felt something shift inside him. He loved the way she smiled for him; how she laughed; how she still blushed for him.
He loved that when he moved inside her, she dug her nails in, leaving behind tiny crescent moon shapes. He loved how she breathed his name; how she shouted it; how she panted and pleaded and moaned. He even loved how she turned him over because she liked to be in control sometimes. How she rode him, her hair draped down her back, clinging to her sweaty skin. How she drew his hands up to cup her breasts while she rose up on her knees and rotated her hips, clenching all around him. How she traced his forearms, his biceps, and dragged her nails across his skin. And when she felt him getting closer, she stopped. She sunk down on him and pinned his hands to the bed while she kissed his chest and his shoulders and all along his neck. And when she was sure he could handle it, she started again. Moving and rocking and sliding up and down, flexing and quivering all around him.
She arched up into him when he turned her onto her stomach and knelt behind her, her knees spread wide, biting into the mattress, and her thighs warm and slick. His hands gripped her hips, drawing her back as he slid back into her, hot and clenching all around him. She flipped her hair out of the way and panted into the blanket, biting her lip so hard he was surprised it didn't break open. He slid his hands up her front, cupped her boobs and kneaded, rolling her hard, sensitive nipples between his fingers. His mouth wandered along her back as he pumped into her harder and quicker. His teeth dragged across her shoulder and she squeezed around him like a vice, crying out his name. He slid a hand around and ghosted his finger over her clit, smiling as she jerked, toes curling.
He was physically exhausted and emotionally spent when he had her on her back again, their hands twined together on the pillows. He kissed down her neck as he thrust shallowly, their bodies slick and sliding together easily. And he whispered it against her ear, repeatedly, as he came, his eyes closed tight against the incredible ecstasy. He could feel her shaking all around him as she climaxed too; her knees squeezing his hips.
He didn't move for a long moment, curled up in the warmth of her small body, panting against her skin. Her hands smoothed up and down his back, her heel rubbing along the back of his calf.
"I love you, too," she said, pressing her lips to his cheek.
His four favorite words, ever, hands down.
.o.
They used up her handful of condoms, as well as a few more, by the end of Sunday.
When he finally left her apartment, it wasn't because he wanted to. She kept waylaying him on his way to the door with kisses and the last thing he wanted to do was leave. But his ma was expecting him at home and he had school tomorrow. Walking out to his truck, he'd never grinned so widely and so genuinely in his life.
It just kept repeating in his head. Not the sex, even though that was off the charts awesome, but the words. She loved him too.
He didn't think he'd ever feel any better than in that moment.
