Rachel finds herself staring toward her master bathroom with a huge smile on her face at the sound of Puck singing in the shower. She can't believe that he's here, in her house. They haven't seen each other in nearly a month and she misses him so much when he's not around. It actually scares her how much she misses him. She's never felt this way about any man before. She's terrified of identifying how she feels with an actual word but even though she has yet to say it, she knows what she's feeling. And now he's here and even though it's only for ten days, she's going to take advantage of every possible moment they have together.
He arrived earlier in the day and after she gave him a tour of the house (he was impressed with her basement gym), she had her chef prepare them a nice, healthful meal of salad (for her) and a steak for him (even though it pained her to bring red meat into her house.) They drank a little bit of wine, he got her caught up on all that was going on in Celina (not much), and then asked if he could shower because he felt "grungy as fuck from the flight."
Now he's belting out something that sounds like Mellencamp in her marble-tiled master bathroom. And she's so happy about that fact that she can't wipe the grin off her face. She spies his suitcase, lying open and with a few articles of clothing strewn over the edge, in the corner and she walks over and leans down to look inside. Rachel lets out a laugh when she sees his Stetson lying in the bottom. Of course he wouldn't leave that at home. It's part of him. She runs her fingers across the top of the hat and then finds herself rifling through his clothing. Everything smells like him and it's a smell that she missed when it was absent. Hell, she craves it at times. She sees one of his white dress shirts and pulls it out, holding it to her nose and inhaling the smell of laundry soap (and, she thinks, a touch of that Tennessee well water she's become so used to.) She darts her eyes around the room and lets out a laugh, relieved that no one is here to see her come completely undone just by inhaling the familiar scent of the man she…cares very much about. She holds the shirt up and eyes it appreciatively. Before she even realizes what she's doing, she's undressing.
After a long, hot shower, Puck runs a towel over his head and then wraps it around his waist and pads back into Rachel's bedroom. He nearly stumbles over his feet when he sees Rachel, though. She's leaning back on the plush organic cotton spread covering her bed, her body propped up on her elbows, and she's wearing nothing but his hat and an unbuttoned shirt (wait… that's his shirt, too.) His heart thumps wildly in his chest as his eyes drag over her body and up to her smiling face and it's then that he knows. He knows exactly how he feels about this woman. Two thousand miles from his home and as far out of his comfort zone as he can possibly be, he still feels exactly at home and he realizes that it's because of this one woman. He missed her like hell when she wasn't around and now that he's standing in her crisp, modern bedroom while she's wearing nothing but his shirt and his Stetson that he accepts the fact this woman owns him. And it feels fucking fantastic, if not a little overwhelming.
"I missed you," Rachel says softly, her eyes travelling over the water droplets clinging to the hairs on his chest. She lets her gaze drop to the thin line of hair that runs down the middle of his abdomen, below his bellybutton, and disappears into the towel cinched around him. "I missed you more than you can possibly know."
Puck admits, "I missed you, too, babe," before grinning lecherously at her and undoing the towel, sending it to the floor.
He advances towards the bed quickly and practically leaps on her. She shrieks with laughter but it quickly dies on her lips and is replaced by small moans as he pushes the shirt off her shoulders. He takes her mouth like he's a suffering, starving man and she replies in kind. She wriggles against him and her hand reaches up to remove his hat from her head but he stops her, pulling his lips away, and shakes his head. "Nope, Rach, leave it on."
And with his girlfriend still wearing his Stetson and straddling him like the farm girl he thinks she just might really be, he receives the best possible California welcome.
Puck loves waking up to the smell of Rachel's hair. She's on her stomach, her arm flung across his chest, and she's sleeping soundly. He struggled with sleep all night because the noise was more than he was used to. Even though she's in a gated community and the neighborhood itself is relatively quiet, he can still hear the booming bass of car stereos, dogs barking, and the general sounds of urban life. Coming from a place that's so quiet he can hear a cow moo from a quarter mile away, this takes some adjustment. Looking over at the clock by the bed, he sees that it's just before 7am. That means it's nearly 10am back at home and there's no way he would ever sleep that late normally. He blames it on travel exhaustion and the fact that Rachel and he had quite the physical reunion the night before (and into the morning hours.)
Puck grins as he closes his eyes and tucks his arm around her. She stirs and opens her eyes, smiling at him through sleepy eyes.
"Morning, baby," she says softly.
"Mornin' yourself. You sleep okay?"
Rachel stretches and nods. "I forget how much I miss your blanket stealing and bed hogging until my bed is empty."
Puck tips his head and kisses her before saying, "And I forgot just how much I miss the way you flip and flop all fucking night until I want to strangle your hot ass. I haven't been kicked in the legs in weeks!"
Grinning, Rachel tucks her head against his chest and skates her hand down his abdomen, settling it low on his stomach. "I have to be heading out for interviews in two hours. I'm doing one of those stupid affiliate interviews where I sit there and people from different news stations all over the country take their turns at asking me the same questions over and over again." She lifts her head and looks at him. "You can go with me if you want. Or you can stay here and relax."
Puck shifts them and slides her beneath him. "I think I'll stay around here today. Check out the digs a little more…see what kinda dump you're living in."
Rachel lets out a little laugh and then gets a serious look on her face. "I can't believe you're here in California. I'm making my manager rearrange my schedule so that I have a few open days to show you around. Anything in particular you'd like to see?"
Thinking for a moment, Puck finally answers. "The ocean, mainly. And that big stupid Hollywood sign. Kurt made me promise I'd take a picture of it. Oh, and he expects souvenir from Rodeo Drive."
Rachel grins. "How about I just shove one of my hundreds of unused scarves in a bag and you take that back to him. He'll never know the difference."
Puck stares down into her sparkling eyes and smiles. "Sounds like a plan to me, babe." He dips his head to kiss her and then they're soon swept up in each other all over again.
He's in the middle of showing his girlfriend exactly how much he missed her (again) when he pauses, mid-thrust, because he hears a noise outside her bedroom door. Rachel shakes her head, grabs his ass and digs her nails in, urging him to continue. "It's just the housekeeper. She won't come in with the door closed."
Puck's not sure he believes her so he works fast, rubs her in just the right way, and sends her quickly over the edge, groaning his name loudly as she goes. When he's finally stopped pulsing, he slides out of her and rolls over, staring at the ceiling. "Your housekeeper knows you just got fucked. Shit, babe, that was loud."
Rachel blushes and shrugs. "Oh well… I pay her handsomely for her complete discretion. This is no different." Throwing the covers back, Rachel climbs out of bed. Looking over her shoulder, she announces that she's going to go take a shower. She pauses just long enough that Puck knows she wants him to follow so he quickly jumps out of bed and runs after her. He snags her around the waist and lifts her up onto the marble vanity. Minutes later, he's pressing her legs up toward her chest, pulling her ass to the edge of the cold marble, and is pushing himself deep inside her again. Even as she's keening his name and begging him to go faster, he knows that she's going to be very, very late for her appointments.
She finally leaves the house nearly an hour after she planned to. She kisses Puck and darts out the door and toward the car waiting in the driveway. He watches her go then closes the door and helps himself to her kitchen. After finding virtually nothing that he actually wants to eat, he chokes down some organic flax and sunflower seed cereal covered in soy milk and passes back out on her bed. He hasn't had time to just be in forever. He's always got fields and animals and crops and cars and tractors to deal with. Besides, she has the biggest fucking bed he's ever seen in his life and it's way more comfortable than his is. As far as first impressions go, California rocks.
That positive impression of sunny LA lasts twenty-four hours. By the time they finally make it through ridiculous Los Angeles traffic for dinner at one of Rachel's favorite restaurants, Puck's not sure how anyone lives here without taking out a gun and shooting at everyone and everything in sight. And once the waiter sets the tiny plate in front of him with the single smallest portion of baked chicken that he's ever seen on top what looks like about seven spaghetti noodles, he's pretty sure that LA sucks ass.
Rachel watches Puck stare at his plate and then giggles. When he looks up, she says, "It's not the portion sizes you're used to, no."
Puck scoffs. "Babe…this is, like, a single spoonful of pasta. Like, one spoon full! What the fuck am I gonna do when this is all gone in two and a half minutes and I have to order more?"
Rachel takes a bite of her vegan pasta dish and shakes her head. "Order more I suppose. I don't want you leaving hungry. Besides, this is on the house anyway! I never seem to have to pay for dinner."
When they leave the restaurant an hour later, Puck's stomach is still growling. They step outside the restaurant and suddenly, flash bulbs illuminate them. He quickly looks at Rachel and she says, "Someone from the restaurant must have tipped off the press. The paps love me. Come on." She grabs Puck's hand and pushes through the crowd of photographers towards the car waiting by the curb. As they move, Puck hears the photographers shouting questions at her that she pointedly ignores. The driver pulls open the door and she slides in quickly, tugging Puck in after her. The door slams soundly and then she exhales. She looks up at Puck, worrying her lower lip with her teeth, and then sighs. "Welcome to my life."
Puck's honestly stunned. He hadn't expected an onslaught of photographers because, fuck, they were just at dinner. Why does anyone care where she eats? As the car weaves through traffic and back towards her house, Puck realizes for the very first time that he is honestly dating a celebrity. He knew it before, of course, but having twenty-two cameras in his face and a barrage of questions being shot at them makes it all very real. He knows instantly that he hates those camera guys and that he's going to have to control himself so that he doesn't cause bad press for Rachel.
And it's fucking surreal that he has to watch what he does so that his girlfriend doesn't get bad press. Gossip down at The Dairy Dish, he's used to. Showing up on E! News? Not so much.
On Wednesday, Puck finally gets a close-up view of the Pacific Ocean. Rachel announces to Puck that she's taken the day off and then she throws on the skimpiest bikini he's ever seen and tells him that she's taking him to the beach. When they get there, the crowd is thin. Rachel has her trademark huge sunglasses on again and her hair is piled in a bun on top of her head. She's wearing a big, floppy sun hat that Puck thinks looks slightly ridiculous.
"That hat is fuckin' ugly," he tells her after they've spread out their towels. He takes it off her and tosses it into the sand before peeling his shirt over his head and staring out at the inviting waves before glancing back toward her. "You comin' in?" he asks.
Rachel has now made herself at home on top the plush towels and is flipping through a stack of magazines she's brought with her. She looks over her sunglasses at him and shakes her head. "Nope. You enjoy. I'll be right here."
He looks at her for a second longer (because her tits look seriously amazing in that tiny scrap of green fabric) and then he practically runs and dives into the waves. He tries not to act like a child as he experiences the ocean for the first time but he totally can't help it. The salty, foamy water and the sound of water birds are totally foreign to him and he loves it. But then he feels something swim by and brush past his body and he's out of the water as fast as his strong legs will carry him because he's not about to be stung by a jelly fish or eaten by Jaws or attacked by an electric eel or have one of those teeny, tiny fish swim up his pee hole. (What? He watches Discovery Channel and he's seen this shit. It's horrifying.)
Soaking wet, he drops down into the sand and places his hand on the base of Rachel's head so that he can kiss her. She moans into his kiss and when she pulls away, she tells him, "You taste like salt water."
Puck smiles at her, his eyes glinting, and licks a stripe across her shoulder. "You taste like sunscreen."
She bends to kiss him again but shrieks into his mouth when he picks her up. He tosses her sunglasses down and then carrying her bridal-style, he dashes towards the ocean. She's screeching when they both go under the water but she's laughing when they surface for air. The waves separate them but when she catches up to him again, she flings her arms around his shoulders and meets his eyes. He's smiling but she sees something deep and very serious in those eyes that are currently appearing to be more green than hazel.
He kisses her softly as a wave crashes against their calves and then slings an arm around her. Turning back toward the beach, they both quickly stiffen because there are now four photographers stationed nearby and he realizes that their fun beach outing has been ruined by the bloodsucking paparazzi again. They dash quickly to their towels, gather up their things, and head toward her car as a half-dozen cameras click after them.
Scowling, Puck glares when a short, thin man with a camera gets within a foot of him. "Back the fuck off," he grouses at the man, who holds his arm out to indicate that he's going to let Puck pass. But as he's climbing into the car and pulling the door closed, a flash goes off from outside the window. Rachel backs away quickly and they head back toward the safety of her gated community.
California fuckin' sucks.
The next few days fly by. Rachel goes for interviews and Puck either tags along or stays at her house and relaxes. He manages to take that picture of the stupid Hollywood sign after Kurt texts him three different times to remind him and he even spends $5 at a gas station to buy a few magnets that say "LA" on them. He's a simple guy and if everybody back home wants some souvenirs from California, they need to come here on their own fucking time and get them.
Each evening, Rachel and Puck go to a restaurant and he gets to eat just enough food to take the edge off his hunger. He understands now why his girl weighs about 100 pounds and is generally tiny. She's starving. Okay, so maybe he has no proof that she's starving other than the fact that he's starving. In fact, she looks totally satisfied and full when they leave the restaurant and the cameras are shoved in their faces again. He, however, sees a Denny's and nearly hijacks the limo because he's so hungry for a Moons Over My Hammy sandwich that he thinks he's probably gonna die.
It's on a Thursday night that Rachel's slipping into a sexy purple dress that he just wants to peel back down her body when he finally snaps. "Babe, can we stay in tonight and maybe order some pizza?"
Rachel seems almost shocked at his request because she rarely eats dinners at home. She has a chef that comes in to cook two dinners a week and the rest of the time, she's on the go. She has more dinner meetings than she can count and it's also the time she uses to meet up with her friends. She stares at Puck and sees the pleading in his eyes. Then she shakes her head and slips back out of her dress, hanging it back on the hanger. Puck slips behind her, lets his hands roam over her bare breasts, and whispers, "thank you…I really don't wanna fuckin' deal with the cameras tonight. And I want some real food." She realizes that she's used to never-ending presence of the cameras but has forgotten that he's not. No wonder he doesn't want to go out. She's about to turn and ask him what he wants on his pizza when she feels him drop to his knees behind her and slide her panties down her hips and towards the floor. She's still in her heels but he carefully helps her step out of the tiny scrap of lace before he pushes her forward, bending her over the bed. He presses his lips against the swell of her hip and sucks hard, leaving a red mark in his wake. When he pushes her thighs apart and licks a stripe from one end of her slit to the other, she grips the organic cotton of the bedspread so tightly that she's afraid her fingers will shred the material.
Puck's a man with a serious goal in mind, she can tell. He tongues her until she comes in a heated blaze and then he pulls her hips back, grips them tightly, and slides his cock inside her quickly. She knows that there will be no leisurely making love as they've done so often since he arrived. She knows him well enough to know that when he can't even take the time to let her crawl all the way into the bed, he's in the mood to fuck. And fuck, he does. He does it hard and fast, whispering some of the filthiest (and hottest) things she's ever heard in her ear until she lets out a guttural cry and collapses onto her face on the bed, her muscles milking him. Seconds later, he empties himself inside her and then slumps on top of her to catch his breath. When his heart rate slows down, he pulls out, kisses her sweat-slickened shoulder as he slaps her on the ass, and asks her where they should order the pizza from.
When he's shoveling piece after piece of meaty, disgusting looking pizza down his throat and groaning the exact same way he does when she's going down on him, she can't help but laugh. He looks so insanely happy to be eating "real man's food" as he'd called it earlier. She's eating a vegetable casserole that he chef left for her and is trying to ignore the vile smell of pepperoni that is quickly permeating her entire house. And even though she's disgusted by his dietary choices, she's so glad to spend and evening in with him. It reminds her of being back in Tennessee. Those quiet evenings on the farm, sometimes interrupted when his (their) friends come over, are things she's come to value. And it's only once he's in California that she can fully admit that she loves that little farm.
And she loves him, too.
Rachel can't believe she's already going back on Good Day LA but her agent insisted that she go since the album is dropping in just two weeks. So on Friday morning, she's back on the set. This time, she has Puck go with her, though, and he stands back in the shadows during her interview. But when they cut to commercial and she takes off her microphone as she tells Steve and Dorothy goodbye, she sees Jillian zero in on Puck and she knows that she's not going to escape this without some bit of prying on Jillian's part.
"So is this the guy?" Jillian asks Rachel as she steps up to Puck.
"It is," Rachel answers, a grin on her face.
Jillian introduces herself and Puck shakes her hand. "It's nice to meet you. We've been speculating about Rachel's boyfriend for a while now. Are you trying to break into acting?" She's appraising him as he stands there and he smirks because he's noticed since he's been here that appearances are everything and despite the fact that he seems to think he looks like a yokel from the sticks, Rachel keeps assuring him that he fits in just fine.
Before Puck can answer Jillian's question, Rachel interjects pleasantly, "You're not getting any information about him, Jillian, so don't even try. And we need to be leaving." She gives Jillian a quick kiss on the cheek and grabs Puck's hand just as the director is hollering for Jillian to get her ass back on set.
Rachel and Puck are leaving the studio when they hear Jillian tell the camera, "I just met Rachel Berry's boyfriend, everyone. He's a hottie!"
Puck groans and Rachel laughs as they step out into the sunlight.
The longer he's in LA, the more Puck decides that he's practically in another world. By the time it's Tuesday evening, the last night of his visit, he's realized a few things. Rachel's still the amazing woman that he can't imagine living without but here, she's just…different. Back in Tennessee, she's the big, shiny fish in a small pond full of dumpy, poor little weak fish. Here in LA, she's a big, shiny fish in a well-manicured, exotic pond full of other big fish, some that are bigger and some that are smaller, but all that are very shiny and with diamond-studded gills. Translation: his girl is the shit in this town and it's really fucking weird.
He thinks back to the night before last. They were at another one of those restaurants she loves eating another tiny meal consisting of probably 335 calories worth of food. Halfway through dinner, they were interrupted by a young girl, probably no more than 12, who shyly asked Rachel for her autograph. Rachel, ever the gracious woman, happily put down her fork and signed the notebook the girl has offered to her. Apparently, the bold move by the child set off a wave and Rachel spent the next ten minutes signing autographs and pleasantly chatting with a few fans before resuming her dinner. Puck was floored as he watched it happened but Rachel acted like it was no big deal at all. And when they left the restaurant, they were again bombarded with camera flashes and paparazzi shouting questions at her as they made their way toward her car.
When they're in public, she's still Rachel. She doesn't change, he knows this. But everyone wants a piece of her and realizing that he shares this woman with the world is taking some serious mental adjustment. But he loves when she walks in the door of her stately home, kicks her heels off, unpins her hair, washes the make-up from her face, and then wraps her arms around his neck and smiles shyly up at him. That's the girl he… Fuck it, he's just going to admit it. That's the girl he loves.
He loves the other Rachel, too, of course. But when she's just his Rachel, he thinks he loves her so much that it scares him. And that's why now, at that moment, he's rifling through one of the bags he brought with him, looking for the present he's been holding on to since he left Tennessee. He knows that giving her this gift is like baring his soul but he thinks, after just five months of being with this incredible, tornado of a woman that it's worth it.
She's curled up in bed when he finally snags what he's looking for and stands up. She's just gotten off the phone with her manager and he can tell that she's tired. She's lying against the pillows, her fingers messing with the collar on her shirt, as she watches him. "What's that?" she asks, pointing at the package in his hand.
Puck doesn't answer her. He climbs into the bed next to her and drops the package into her lap without a word. She looks at him curiously before glancing down at the flat package now lying across her thighs. Picking it up, she opens the manila envelope and slides the contents out. She drops the envelope carelessly as her eyes widen at what's in her hands. And then she turns to look at him and he knows that she knows. With absolute certainty, she knows. He sees tears spring to her eyes and then she's looking back at what's in her hands. She's flipping through the small stack of papers with a look of awe on her face. Her eyes settle on one particular sheet of paper and she sets the rest down to focus on just that one. She reads it, again and again, and then she looks up at him.
"This is beautiful, Noah." She glances back down at the notes and the words in front of him and then back up. "I'm serious, this is amazing."
Puck feels himself redden because this is a huge deal for him. He never shares his music with anyone. Sure, he jams with the guys and he's played in a few clubs here or there but it's always covers of everybody else's shit. He's never let anyone see the songs he's written before. And he never imagined, when he started writing music years ago, that the first person he'd allow to see them would be a famous pop star. But he loves her…and it's time she knows that he loves her.
He sees her eyes filling with tears as she stares at the sheet in front of her and then she looks back at him. "I want to record this song," she says. She thinks she's going to have a fight on her hands but he shakes his head instead.
"I want you to," he admits. Then he looks into her eyes, focuses all his energy on her, and says, "I wrote that one for you, actually." He shifts uneasily and looks at her because he's so uncomfortable right then and he has no idea what she's going to say.
There's an awkward silence and he starts to get nervous but then she carefully sets his music aside, climbs into his lap, and looks at him through her lashes. "I love you, too," she says. He's never seen her look so serious and he'd almost want to laugh if this wasn't such a huge fucking monumental moment. But then she kisses him hard, pulling back to whisper against his lips, "I think I've loved you from the very beginning," and he forgets about his music and about her being famous and about all those tiny plates of food and all those annoying assholes with the cameras. And when he twists her beneath him on the bed and pushes her shirt up far enough to bare her breasts to his ravenous gaze, he realizes that he can deal with all of the bullshit that her lifestyle comes with because it also comes with her. And she's worth a lifetime of 300-calorie meals.
It's only later, when she's collapsed onto his chest and her body is still trembling because he'd pushed her higher and higher until she'd shattered that he finally whispers those three little words into her hair. He feels her press a gentle kiss against his bare chest and then she whispers, "I know," before she falls asleep.
Rachel tells herself all morning that she's not going to cry. She's left Noah to go back to California many times since they got together. But this is the first time he's left her. She has her premiere party next week and she would have loved for him to stay to attend but she knows that 10 days away from the farm is pushing it enough. And as soon as the party is over, she's catching a red-eye flight back to Nashville for a much-needed break.
She has an interview to do so she can't go to the airport with him. Instead, she clings to him in the driveway of her home and tries to hide her face when a few tears leak from her eyes and onto his shirt. He tilts her head up and shakes his. "Why are you crying, babe? I'll see you next week."
"I know," she sighs. "Things just feel…different now." After last night, everything seems so much different.
"Really fuckin intense," he says with a nod.
She laughs and pushes up on her toes to place her mouth on his. When they part, she says, "Have a safe flight. And call me when you get in."
He picks up his bags and hands them to the waiting driver, who quickly packs them in the trunk. Right before he slides into the backseat of the car, he pulls her to him and kisses her like he's not going to see her again for a week. When they part, she whispers, "I love you, baby," as he walks away.
He turns and winks at her and quickly bumps the spot on his chest over his heart with his fist before the door closes and the car pulls away. She's laughing as she watches him leave because his grasp of verbal emotional expression leaves a lot to be desired. But she knows he loves her and it doesn't matter if he says it or writes it in a song or only nods when she says it to him because he still feels it and he makes her feel it in a thousand different ways and that's what really matters.
Puck's flight back to Tennessee is completely uneventful. His first class seat is just as comfortable going as it was coming so he relaxes and concentrates on all the shit he brought to read. When he gets to the airport, he gets his bags from the baggage claim and soon he's in his truck on the drive back to Celina. Things are nice and quiet and it feels good to be back in his home state, even if he does miss Rachel already. He's as relieved as hell, though, that she'll be back in Tennessee next week. He needs his girl back on his home turf.
However, his quiet, serene drive goes to shit exactly a half-mile from his driveway. The narrow dirt road is crowded with cars and, as he gets closer to his house, he sees several news trucks with their transmitters up and pointed towards the sky.
He can barely turn his truck into his driveway because of the crowd and as he does, he's blinded by the flashes of what seems like a hundred flashbulbs. When he pulls up in front of his house and parks, he sees Finn standing on the porch.
"Dude! What the fuck?" Puck barks as he jumps from the driver's seat.
Finn shrugs. "They started pouring in two days ago and they've been trying to get on the property. I actually found one asshole with a camera hiding in an empty horse stall. Broke his camera and tossed him out on his fat ass and then called the sheriff. He's normally useless but he's got his chest all puffed up and he's out there patrolling to keep all these people off your land."
Puck stares back at the throng of cars and news trucks lining the road and then back at Finn, a perplexed look on his face. "But what the hell are they doing here?"
Finn smiles and snags a stack of magazines off the chair by the door and hands them to Puck. He flips through them, reads the headlines, and his eyes bulge.
Pop sensation Rachel Berry photographed with mystery beau
Who's the handsome man on Rachel's arm?
Rachel Berry in romantic beach romp with muscled mystery man
Has Rachel Berry found true love at last?
Rachel's new love is a country boy!
Puck looks at the headlines and the pictures of himself and Rachel and recognizes them from their various jaunts while he was in LA. Lifting his eyes towards Finn, Puck groans. "Ahh, shit..." Sure, he knew he was photographed a thousand fucking times while he was in LA but he really never thought about what they'd do with those pictures once they had them. And he sure as fuck never thought he'd end up on the cover of a bunch of shitty gossip magazines. It only takes a second for him to realize that his girlfriend's crazy life in LA and his quiet life in Celina have now collided and have created a giant ball of shit that he isn't sure what to do with.
Finn laughs at the nearly tragic look on his best friend's face. "Looks like the whole world knows, dude. And you thought you'd keep this thing a secret."
Puck shakes his head and stares down at his image plastered across the front of Star Magazine. He's seriously not prepared to handle this shit. When he looks up at Finn again, he asks, "So what the fuck am I supposed to do now?"
Author's Note: And now their lives are intertwining more and more... Next chapter, Hollywood meets Celina!