So I'm back and it didn't take too long. So here's part two and those of you that are still reading go ahead and review.
I want to say a hearty thanks to Average Everyday Sane Psycho for sticking in there with me and always reviewing your reviews believe it or not kept me from giving up on this story and let me know that someone is still reading my fic because even if it's just for one person I will continue this story or any other that I write.
So again a HUGE Thanks to you. And woogie327 for reviewing that last chapter. Also to those that are still reading.
Song: Adele's Set Fire to Rain (for purposes of story mercedes wrote)
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my interpretation and the story itself, the song does not belong to me it belongs to those who wrote it (though i took some liberties with it) yeah so i don't own anything that may get me sued
Chapter 14 New Day prt II
"Thank God, you were gone for, like, ever."
"Oh, I kind of was, wasn't I? Sorry. I'm all yours now." The smile she dons for Puck this time around is genuine. Things were looking up for her, and how could she truly accept them if she continued the animosity with her 'her day' companion.
Mercedes had been away from the table long enough to adopt a chipper personality and feel up to talking to the one person Puck was sure she didn't want to. But here they are and he isn't going anywhere and it seems his persistence has paid off because she's all his now. A thought he isn't comfortable dwelling on as of yet.
"It's okay." Puck says absentmindedly. His mind elsewhere.
A smile rests on her face as she bites her cookie in the best mood she's had in a while. Savoring her chewy dessert, the young woman notices the furrowed brows and intent glare Puck is giving her. Mercedes mistakes his contemplative expression for interest in her favorite cookie. The way he's staring at her he must want a piece of her cookie.
"You want a piece? It's so good." Mercedes makes of face of pure satisfaction as she offers Puck a bite.
The extended hand alerts Puck that Mercedes has just said something. He catches up quickly looking at the bitten cookie in her hand.
"What? Uh, no. I don't." He schools his expression from one of confusion to indifference.
"Aww, come on it's good. You've had it before haven't you?"
"No. I'm not much of a cookie guy." He can't believe he's actually talking about cookies with Mercedes. This is not what he had in mind. Puck doesn't even like cookies.
"What? Everybody likes cookies. There's no such thing."
"Well, I don't really do cookies so I guess there is such a thing, huh?" She's smiling at him, and he can't tamper down the feelings causing the squirming in his stomach. He'd though that it would be a lifetime before he saw that smile again directed at him, but here they are and here it is. The twinkle in her eye and the brightness of her smile is recorded on his mental reel. He would never forget this look on Mercedes' face for as long as he lived.
"Not after today, because once you taste this cookie you'll be buying it all the time, especially from here. They make the best. Soft chewy more chocolate than nut. Perfect. Here take a bite." Mercedes shoves her cookie into her friend's face, but she is met with rejection. Feigning offense, "You should be grateful. I don't offer my cookies to nobody, not even Kurt, so you're going to try it. I take my cookies seriously," she says with her hand in Puck's face waving her cookie around.
"Did you just say that? You take your cookies seriously? Don't say that to anyone else." The innuendo is obvious to him a warm-blooded male, and would be to any person. For some reason, it seems Mercedes is completely clueless. The thought of her thinking of only cookies causes Puck to chuckle.
"Whatever, just try it."
"Okay." Snatching the godforsaken cookie from Mercedes, he takes a tentative bite.
He likes her favorite cookie. She can tell by the surprised look on his face. "What do you think?" She asks in a sing song voice.
"It was okay." Really the cookie was great, but the man in him can't gush over a cookie. That just can't happen.
"Just okay?" she questions noting the lie spewing from Puck's lips. These are the best cookies in the world.
Silence follows for a few minutes with Mercedes glaring at Puck with a smug smirk on her lips until he finally gives in. "Alright, it was good. I like it."
A smile brighter than fluorescence graces the cookie lover's face, which is returned by one of equal stature in earnest. "I told you," she says triumphantly.
Puck shakes his head thinking he didn't know how much he needed this, being with her, until now, until today. They settle into a comfortable silence. He appraises her; she seems content, as though nothing has happened between them, as if the tension from previous has evaporated. With a deep breath, he allows the contentment to wash over him. Just being with her has that affect on him.
Sitting amongst the silence, his mind wonders thinking of when she adopted this freeness and it leads him to the guy Mercedes was talking to a little while ago. After she came back from talking to him, her whole attitude was altered. Puck needs to know who this fellow is who wields such a power over this headstrong woman. The man appeared familiar, but Puck was having the hardest time placing him. Breaking the silence, he sets out to remedy his problem. "Hey, who was that guy you were talking to before?"
Mercedes looks up from her cup quizzically, "Garrison, you remember, I sang with him at the concert."
"Yeah, that's where I know that face from," he says mostly to himself, "I saw him take your phone; what was that about?"
"Just catching up, or I guess getting to know each other. I don't know."
"How is that possible?"
Mercedes puts her cup down in preparation of her explanation. "Okay, so, I've known him, not like we're friends or anything, but we've been in choir together for a while. We've never really talked, though, or rather he talked I didn't listen. So I asked him out for coffee tomorrow."
"Asked him out? As a friend or date?" An unfamiliar emotion buds inside Puck as he imagines Mercedes with this pretty boy. Why she would want someone like that, he doesn't understand.
"A little bit of both I guess?"
"You seem to be doing a lot of that today," is his snarky reply to her uncertainty.
"Shut up, Puck – I mean – Noah, God I am never going to get that."
Ignoring her slip because there are more important issues at hand, he continues his interrogation. "Why don't you know?"
She shrugs her shoulders, "I don't know. I – it's like – we don't really know each other well and I'm not trying to rush into anything. But then again…there is that drop dead gorgeous smile and those sexy dimples. But I guess I want to see if there's more to him than all of that sexiness."
"Really, Mercedes?" Puck is not some girlfriend of hers; he does not want to hear her talking about a guy like that. He may be her friend, but they're not that friendly.
"You know he's a great looking guy."
"What? No I don't."
"Yes you do. Admit it." She says playfully.
"Why would I do that?"
"Why not?"
"Because I'm a guy."
"That doesn't mean anything," she says with seriousness etching her voice.
"Sure it does. Guys don't-we just don't do stuff like that."
"Yes they do. Plenty of men do it, Puck, there's nothing wrong with it."
"Yeah, guys like Kurt."
Mentioning Kurt is a big mistake because as soon as he does the banter quickly turns from friendly to animus annoyance.
"Shut up, stupid, you don't have to be gay to do it. Artie does it. He doesn't have a problem with saying another guy is good looking." She is tempted to poke Puck in his forehead, but refrains trying to keep her temper in check.
"I'm not Artie."
Though it's not fair or relevant, Mercedes thinks of Artie and his relationship with Tina, how great a guy he is and contrasting that with what she knows about the man sitting opposite her. "No. You're not Artie or anybody else for that matter." She wouldn't lay a hand on him; however, she seems to be incapable of controlling her mouth when it comes to the insufferable dimwit sitting with her.
He doesn't miss the double meaning or the nasty tone. Puck isn't sure if it's a slip of the tongue or if he's projecting. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. It's just means that you are you and will always be you. You are not Artie or Kurt or even Garrison."
"Garrison? What does he have to do with anything?" Just hearing the man's name makes Puck's insides contract uncomfortably and his blood boil.
"I'm just saying. You asked, so, I'm saying you are you and nobody else." All rationale is out of the door at this point. Mercedes is in a zone tainted by her past.
"You say it like it's a bad thing." Puck is confused but getting angrier by the minute with her hazy rejoinders.
"I didn't say it was a bad thing."
"No, but it sounded like-"she looks at him puzzled or maybe she's faking her ignorance. He can't tell, but he's upset and decides to continue on, "like you were implying that it was. I didn't hear you say it was a good thing."
"I don't imply. I didn't imply. I was simply saying that you are you. Whatever inference you make from that point on is totally all you because I said nothing in reference to good or bad. Maybe it's a subconscious thing on your part."
It was a hit. A hard brutal hit. Rigid left jab to an already swollen shut eye. Puck is cut and bleeding badly. What could he say to that? He couldn't accuse her of trying to say something negative about him because factually she hadn't said anything positive or negative. Mercedes is smart. This he is discovering all too slowly.
The tension surrounding the comrades is stifling and Puck hasn't a clue how to dispense it. She's stunned him into dreaded silence.
Mercedes feels stupid. Maybe it is too soon to associate with Puck in such a capacity. She should have left or sent him on his way. But no, she just had to humor him to prove to herself that she is fine with being around him. Snide little comments were constantly seeping into their conversation of which she seemed to have no control over. It is the worst case of verbal dysentery she has ever had. She finds herself saying something and before she can think her mouth is moving. The goal isn't to hurt him or make him pay because she is bitter; that isn't what she wanted to do at all. Actually, she wanted to be okay with being Puck's/Noah's friend. However, reconciling that within her is proving very difficult. Perhaps it is going to take longer than three days to cool off, let the anger and resentment subside.
Mercedes hopes this mess brewing with Puck will soon ebb; yet, even if it doesn't she won't allow it to ruin anything she could possibly have with Garrison. The guy deserves a shot. After everything that has conspired between her and Puck, she is more than willing to give it to him.
Finishing his coffee, Puck stews, mulling over the things he's heard coming from the woman he's scorned, while Mercedes lazily consumes her cookie and white hot chocolate; both hesitant to speak.
After some while, Puck timidly ventures to break the quiet. "Mercedes?"
She looks up at him this time with a renewed sense of awareness. "Huh?"
"You don't really think I'm a bad person, do you?" he says looking down at his clasped hands.
What does she say to that? Did she? One thing she knows for sure is that he could be; he had been to her in the past. But was he now? The deflated look in Puck's eyes startles Mercedes momentarily, and instead of seeing the man in front of her, the image of him from her dreams after running into him the first time takes his place. The hurt boy she knows is covered by the bravado Puck often exudes is anything but hidden now. She may not ever get used to calling him by his given name, but for once she can see him. Noah.
"No," she says with total confidence. Truthfully she doesn't think he is a bad person at heart. In fact, Mercedes believes that Puck-Noah is a compassionate individual, however, misguided.
"Really? No lie? Because if you think that … I … understand." Noah's last words are mumbled as he lifts his head to look Mercedes in the eyes. He doesn't need her lies. He could take her honesty even if it hurt. He deserves it.
"Puck," the aforementioned winces at the misnomer prompting Mercedes to rapidly correct her mistake, "Noah, sorry about that," she hates this new name change thing; she understands it, but that didn't mean she had to like it. "I'm not too keen on lying just to make someone feel better. I said it; I meant it. I don't think you're a bad person. Can you be, yeah, but are you? From my interaction with you these last couple of weeks, I say no."
"Thanks." A faint smile plays across Puck's lips.
"It's the truth." She smiles back.
As soon as the smile on Mercedes' face appears it's wiped away by the words that come out of Noah's mouth.
"Sometimes I don't think so."
No, please don't start this. Mercedes doesn't want this burdensome conversation to continue. She is learning that the new Puck, Noah if you will, is more of an I showed you mine now show me yours kind of guy when it comes to talking. Unfortunately for him, she is not capable of doing that with him right now, possibly never. Not wanting to be rude, Mercedes keeps her mouth shut. If she doesn't encourage him then he will eventually stop. But he doesn't, he is gone with a faraway look in his eyes, as though he's at the table alone.
"I mean, I'm always doing stuff that hurt the people I care about most. What kind of person does that? So many people. Myself included. It's hard not to think I'm anything but bad." Noah goes mute with a distant gaze. His mind rummaging through his transgressions past and present.
Finding Noah's contemplative state opportune, she quickly cuts into his train of thought. "Hey, what's on your schedule for today?"
"Huh? What?"
"I said, what's on your schedule for today. What do you actually do on your days off?"
He's not fooled, but he can't fault her for not wanting to participate in his pity party. "Sleep."
"Yeah, but what about today? You're not sleeping right now, and you seem to want company, not sleep. So, you must be doing something more than sleeping," she smiles brightly.
"Well, I have to go to the music store."
"Yeah? What do you need?" Is this a captivating conversation? No it is not; however, this is leaps and bounds better than her having to listen to him mope about his past.
"Some strings, music paper, a pick."
"Essentials," she muses, "I need some music paper for myself, come to think of it. I won't hold you up; I bet you're the type who's in the music store for like a ton of hours for no earthly reason at all."
A large crooked grin cracks Noah's apathetic mask. "True, but you don't have to go, or, I don't have to leave or whatever." That was awkward. "I still want company. You can go with me, pick up what you need. If you want to?"
Mercedes thinks about the invitation. What's the worst that could happen at this point? "Okay."
Puck looks at her shocked. He can't believe she's willing to go along with him, but doesn't question it. He'll take what he can get.
They get up to leave and Noah takes Mercedes' trash disposing it along with his empty cup. Walking in tandem, they traipse towards Noah's transportation. Realization stops Mercedes in her tracks. Puck doesn't drive a car or a truck. Fearful of riding on the back of a motorcycle, Mercedes suggests a better solution to their transportation problems. "We can take my car."
"What? Nooo. It's not that cold today, and you're dressed for it. Come on. Have you ever ridden a motorcycle before?"
"No and these," she says pointing to her feet, "are not bike riding boots. These are be cute horse riding/ non-horse riding boots. I don't want to ruin them," Mercedes finishes with an eyebrow raised at Noah.
"You won't."
"But I don't have a helmet." She is trying everything to get out of this bike ride. She isn't sure if she wants to trust Puck with her life.
"You can have mine."
"What about you?" This is not the Puck she remembers from any time in her life. He is definitely becoming the person, Noah, the better half of him.
"I'm glad you care, but I'll be fine. Stop being a punk and come on. You'll like it. Plus you owe me one I tried that cookie for you."
"I'm not a punk, and I owe you nothing." She says defiantly.
"Sure." He nudges her as they stand beside his bike.
"Okay, you!" she concedes, "Only you could-" she snaps her mouth shut.
Puck glances at her sideways a sudden burst of excitement spiking in him knowing what she was going to say, but plays it off as if he's heard nothing. He steps forward taking his helmet from his bike handing it to Mercedes and climbs on his bike. Though she is still a little freaked about riding the contraption of death, she follows behind him. When he cranks the motorcycle, she hesitantly puts her hands around his waist.
"Hold on tight," he says and she can hear the glee in his voice.
Her hair billows out past the helmet, the wind whipping it away from her face. It all feels surprisingly liberating, the wind in her face, and open to the elements nothing between her and her surroundings. It is beautiful. Nestled closely to her chauffeur the wind forces his mocha scent into her nose and what fear for her safety that still remains quickly dissipates.
The ride is short-lived. Before long, they are pulling into a small little music shop just out of town, probably family owned. He parks as close to the entrance as possible helping Mercedes off before getting off himself.
"Your hands are cold," he mentions once he is standing in front of her.
"Yeah a little," she shrugs.
"They're freezing, Merce, here give me your hands." Noah grabs her soft hands sandwiching them between his too-soft-for-a-man hands. Wanting to speed up the process he pulls his hands with hers in tow to his mouth expelling warm coffee breath onto them.
"You don't have to do this you know."
"Yeah?" He's very of aware that he does not have to warm her hands, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to.
"Yeah," she whispers yanking her hands back turning away from him and walking toward the store.
Shaking off Mercedes' weird vibe he falls in line with her. "So how much fun did you have losing your motorcycle virginity?" There's a gleam in his eye that is all Puck when he looks at the lady walking hurriedly into the store.
"What?" Her head snaps to her left to eye him better.
"It was your first time wasn't it?"
"Ye-ah?"
"So, I popped your bike riding cherry?"
"Puc-Noah, you are such a perv."
His lips turn up seductively at what she means as an insult. "Sometimes. How do you feel not being a motorcycle virgin? I bet you want to do it all the time now don't you?" he says nudging her making sure she gets his insinuation.
The double meaning is definitely not loss on Mercedes. She rolls her eyes shaking her head, "You are such a turd and a pervert. Did I say that yet?" she asks smirking at Puck.
"Yeah, but really, all jokes aside, how was it?"
"It was fun; I actually loved it." Surprise is evident in her answer.
"I figured you would. Who doesn't?" The smug grin plastered on Puck's face garners a signature eye roll form the former diva.
"Whatever. And did you call me Merce?"
"Yeah, I can't call you Mama, now, can I?" Mercedes shakes her head, "so, I came up with that."
She ponders the nickname Puck has obviously thought little about. What is it with this guy and names? Seeing no harm in the new nickname she concedes. "O-kay I guess it'll do."
"Yeah it will." Puck's self-satisfied attitude is in common form today. Sucking her teeth Mercedes slaps Puck's arm then rushes away from him entering the store laughing with him on her heels.
Walking together, they make their way to the picks. She watches him mull over the picks. Picking up different ones and putting them back and repeating the process over again. This lasts for about 20 minutes before Merce decides to leave him to his own devices wondering off on her own. A few aisles over, she comes across the papers she is looking for. After grabbing a few packs, she sets out to find Puck again. At a glance she can see he doesn't have a pick yet despite his diligent shopping, but now has moved on to perusing the strings.
"Still no pick?" she whines.
"No." Puck doesn't look up from the strings too occupied.
"But why not? You were there forever, and now you're doing the same thing with the strings, at this rate we'll be here when the place closes."
"Huh?"
"Ugh!" Throwing up her hands Mercedes marches off having already finished her shopping and bored with watching Puck not buy anything.
Making her way to the front, Mercedes sees an upright piano in the center of the room. Having nothing better to do at the moment, she sits at the piano poking at the keys.
Before long, humming begins to drift from within her, an old melody from her past. Her fingers press the keys deliberately in tune with the sound coming from her mouth. The song, she recalls, is from a few years ago, possibly from her senior year in high school. Reaching the end of the intro, she opens her mouth involuntarily and the words flow out.
I let it fall, my heart
And as it fell, you rose to claim it
It was dark and I was over
Until you kissed my lips and you saved me
My hands, they're strong, but my knees were far too weak
To stand in your arms without falling to your feet
But there's a side to you that I never knew, never knew
All the things you'd say, they were never true, never true
And the games you'd play, you would always win, always win
As the words pour out of her, she can feel them working something inside her soul. These words hadn't been uttered since she wrote it during the week of graduation. Back then, it had only been a means of trying to extinguish a fire burning inside of her, yet, proved futile. Mercedes had been so in love with Puck. A love she couldn't seem to shake.
But I set fire to the rain
Watched it pour as I touched your face
Well, it burned while I cried
'Cause I heard it screaming out your name, your name
Often times she had burned him in effigy, if only spiritually. She fought with all her might to break the curse binding her soul to his, but as she sings today she can feel the hold on her heart releasing and the wounds beginning to heal.
When I'm with you I could stay there
Close my eyes, feel you near forever
You and me together, nothing is better
But there's a side to you that I never knew, never knew
All the things you'd say, they were never true, never true
And the games you'd play, you would always win, always win
Visions of him running out on her after being so close flash through her mind. So close. They were so close. She's never let anyone else get so close. Not even as close.
But I set fire to the rain
Watched it pour as I touched your face
Well, it burned while I cried
'Cause I heard it screaming out your name, your name
I set fire to the rain
And I threw us into the flames
When we fell, something died
'Cause I knew that that was the last time, the last time
As she sings customers of the music store gravitate toward the genius that's emanating from her. One of the last people to come over is Puck. Seeing him nearing her, she closes her eyes. She doesn't want to see him. She can't see him; inside she knows that right now is about her. Not him.
Sometimes I wake up by the door
That heart you caught must be waiting for you
Even now when we're already over
I can't help myself from looking for you
The song is about him. He's standing an arm's length away from her gazed fixed, and she hopes desperately that he doesn't know it. However, beyond her hope she knows he does. How could he not.
I set fire to the rain
Watched it pour as I touch your face
Well, it burned while I cried
'Cause I heard it screaming out your name, your name
I set fire to the rain
And I threw us into the flames
When we fell, something died
'Cause I knew that that was the last time, the last time, oh
Therapeutic. Simultaneously opening her heart as she bellows the final lyrics of the song, she can feel the weights lifted and doors opening. She's no longer bound. She is free. Free.
Oh, no
Let it burn, oh
Let it burn
Let it burn
When the song finishes, she's snapped out of her music induced trance by the applauding crowd wildly gifting her with accolades. Eventually, after about 5 minutes of inquiring about the song they disperse, while one listener hangs behind.
He stares at her thoughtfully; he is thoroughly bewildered. Here he sees a woman who is supremely talented, yet, she appears to have no care in pursuing a career. The song. The beautiful poignant song. There is no questioning that the song is about him. When she wrote it doesn't matter. She'd all but said she didn't love anybody after him. Walking toward her a look of awe replaces his addled brows.
"That was beautiful, Merce."
"Thanks." Her eyes linger on the keys as she speaks too afraid to fix her eyes to the man standing beside her.
"When did you write it?" This is not the question he wants to ask exactly, but he's fishing in anticipation that it will lead to the desired destination.
"Senior year of High School, I think."
"Wow, you wrote that as a teenager. Some adults don't have the depth to pull something like that off. My stuff isn't even that good."
"I don't know, Noah, what you sing at Lorno is really good."
"Yeah, it's okay. Not as good as yours. I mean I've only heard two of your songs and each time I've been left speechless after. Not to mention, I don't sing half as good as you do. Don't get me wrong, I have some pretty sexy chops, but not many people sing as good as you do."
"Thanks. I am good aren't I," she says jokingly with her head in the air.
Bingo. "I think that's the point I am trying to make. It's why I wonder why you're not in, like, LA or Atlanta somewhere trying to do anything with all that talent. You shouldn't hoard it, Merce. You should be doing something. It's not like you need to find a writer for you so it should be easier."
Why wasn't she a singer? Wouldn't he want to know. However, she can't tell him. He couldn't handle it, nor did she want to. It would be stepping over boundaries she's set in place to protect her mending heart. For now it's a non-issue. She's not interested in that lifestyle anymore.
"I told you before; it just doesn't appeal to me like it did when I was younger. Writing for others, I could do that. I may do it. But singing is in my past." Among other things, she wants to say, but keeps it to herself. She and Puck had already argued and a flippant remark would only antagonize him and they would start up again. Ruining the overall good time she's having in spite of. That doesn't mean that this conversation isn't working her last nerve.
"Don't get it, but if you say so, who am I to push."
"I do say so, and what about you. Are you pushing your music career?" she says turning the tables.
"I do that thing at Lorno."
"Yeah and that's great, it really is, but are you doing anything else? More."
"No. I don't have time-" Puck is cut off by a rapidly firing Mercedes.
"Do you really want to be a music artist?"
"Yeah, why would you ask that?"
"You ask me why I'm not in Atlanta or LA, but you aren't in either of those places. So, I wonder how bad you actually want it."
She's coming off a little harsh. She knows it and has no idea where it's coming from. But life is hard and the entertainment business is even harder. Mercedes isn't trying to provoke him for bringing up a touchy subject; maybe a little, but mostly she wants Puck to see that he's not doing anything extra to get what he wants. If he wants it, he wouldn't be in Columbus. That's what she thinks anyway.
Puck is at a loss for words. How dare she question his desire for music? She doesn't understand, Puck surmises, because if she did she wouldn't be saying these things. He rings in his temper. He wants her to understand and that can only happen if he's calm enough to explain. Though it seems like a jibe, he can see that she isn't necessarily trying to attack him. He believes that in her own way she is attempting to help, but it doesn't change the fact that it incensed him a great deal.
This is just one of the many hostile statements she's shoved his way today. Composing himself, Noah tries to clarify as thoroughly as possible his situation without blowing up. He couldn't allow that to happen. He takes his music very serious, and he could alienate himself from Mercedes by doing so.
"Mercedes, you have no idea how bad I want it. Of course I should be some place better than here. I should be in some big entertainment city, but that wouldn't be right for me now. If you remember, Mercedes, I'm only two years sober, and before that my life was pretty jacked up. Music was the last thing on my mind after I gave my daughter up for adoption," and I broke up with you, "so, all those years you were writing and doing whatever else, I was drowning in my own pity. I want it, Merce; I just have to be ready when I finally take off to make it happen."
His bitter tone wanes as he finishes, hampered by the look he sees in Mercedes' eyes.
Remorse has traded places with the smug concern that only moments ago took residence on her face. She shouldn't have been so inconsiderate. It wasn't as if he hadn't told her about the problems he'd had after they broke up. Mercedes berates herself internally before she builds the nerve to speak. "I'm sorry."
"It's alright."
"No. It's not, even if I wasn't trying to be mean, it was. So, I'm sorry."
"Really, it's okay. I don't expect you to understand."
Mercedes takes a deep breath. She promised herself she wouldn't do this with Puck. She wouldn't do the I'm interested in your story thing, but she can't help herself. The weary expression is anything but forgiving, and Mercedes feels uneasy leaving things as they are. He's been putting forth a valiant effort amid the scathing comments and crude behavior. Although a large part of her doesn't want to care, the smallest part that does care refuses to be ignored.
"You're right, I don't understand now, doesn't mean that I can't. So, spill what's going on with you and your music."
He doesn't know when it happened, but it doesn't bother him one bit that this woman sitting at the piano has the power to alter his mood with the slightest ounce of effort. She can make him fighting mad one instant and less than a second later cause him to grin like a Cheshire cat. And with that, he's back. "Only if you really want to know."
She relaxes relieved that they can climb out of a rut without breaking things.
"Sure I want to know, I asked didn't I? Yes, so stop being a douche and tell me."
"I'm not a douche." She rolls her eyes and gestures for him to continue. "The Lorno thing that you spoke so nicely about is where I'm honing my skills. Testing out material. It's like training. I've only been writing and stuff since I've been here, so, I'm a little behind the curve.
I want to be better. Sing better, write better. So, yeah, I'm working on it, just not like everyone else. I plan on making it one day. It may just take me a while…"
"Really I'm sorry. I guess I just didn't think about it, but I- you'll make it."
"Not that you had to say it but thanks."
Standing up from the piano, Mercedes walks with Noah to the counter to purchase their items.
When they make it to the register the cashier does more than cash them out. "You have a beautiful voice."
"Thanks." The compliment from the young man causes Mercedes to blush.
"That song was awesome. Are you a singer or something?"
"No. I'm just me."
"You should be. That was a pretty ridiculous song."
"Uh, thanks." This is becoming too much for her. She can't remember receiving such recognition in the past and she's only recently began singing in public again. Taking her change she and Puck leave the store.
Puck is walking side by side with her and pokes her in the shoulder. "See I told you."
"Noah." Her tone is playful but the warning is unmistakable. Puck slides away from her side raising his hands in surrender. He did not want to be on the receiving end of her anger any time soon.
Once they make it to the bike, Puck cranks it but waits before taking off remembering how cold Merce's hand were when they first pulled up. "Hey, you should put your hands in my coat pockets."
"I'm fine, I'll be fine."
"Stop being stubborn-it's gotten colder and your hands will freeze. Come on."
"Puck," he clears his throat and the guilt lands right on Mercedes' prompting her to comply. "Okay Noah."
She slides her already cold hands into his pockets. The leather jacket he's sporting is deceptively warm. Her hands glide into wool lined pockets soft and cozy from his body heat, her hands instantly warming. Mercedes hasn't been this close to Puck in years. Though she fears an onslaught of memories and feelings to burst through the barriers she has placed on her heart and mind, nothing happens. It doesn't incite some distant longing. Her only guess could be because it is new. This isn't Puck, it is, but sitting on this bike she is reminded of before when he felt more like the person, Noah, he claims to be. Instead of reminiscing, a new memory implants itself. She couldn't help the smile forming on her mouth thinking that maybe jumping in feet first with him today has in some way helped rid him from her system. Because with her arms encircling him and her hands gripping his waist, her heart doesn't ache nor is she itching to punch him. She would be fine. Mercedes is fine.
In stark contrast to the frigid wind blasting him, her warm breath taunts the back of his neck causing an inexplicable jolt to play along his spine. Had he missed female contact? Without a doubt he did. What heterosexual male wouldn't? And he is possibly enjoying this bike ride way more than he should considering the woman whose body is flush against him has a date with some pretty boy tomorrow.
Puck has no one to blame but himself. He'd had his chance and ignorantly passed it up. Now he stores away the memory of her hands holding tightly to him for safety wishing that the circumstances were different. But he would always have this memory. Instinct kicks in and he accelerates their speed by at least 10mph. As Puck expects Mercedes' hands holds him tighter, her legs also tightening. An ocean wide smile spreads across his face from the extra closeness. He definitely had one heck of a memory to store away.
Pulling up beside Mercedes' car Noah slows his bike down rolling to a stop. Not bothering to cut off the ignition. Merce immediately unlatches herself when they stop. The loss of contact jars him momentarily.
"Here we are."
"Yeah, thanks for the ride. It was fun."
"Really? You liked it?"
"I think it's safe to say I loved it. Would have been better if it was warmer, but it was great."
"That's cool."
"I'm going to go ahead and go," she says opening her door.
"Okay, talk to you later."
"Sure, bye."
They both drive home in different frames of mind. Noah is riding high on what he could call the best day off in a long time. Satisfied with how his day has turned out, Noah opts to take the scenic route home giving him time to think and relish the remainder of the night before going home to prepare for the early morning. He wants the day to linger, tomorrow it would all be a memory, but today it is reality. Picking up speed he purposely thinks of Mercedes.
Back in the parking lot Mercedes' thoughts couldn't be further from the day's events. Her mind is wrapped around the pending date – coffee thing she is to have with Garrison. It surprises her how much she is looking forward to seeing the beautiful charming man. She may have overlooked him before, but there is no way she could anymore. His presence is commanding, so much so she finds herself contemplating how she'd had the wherewithal to evade such a person in the first place.
Getting out of her car in the dorm parking lot, Mercedes feels her cell phone vibrate in her bag. Retrieving it she smiles. Speak of the devil.
"Hey, Garrison."
"Hey, Mercedes. Tomorrow you and me, huh?"
"I guess so, huh?"
"You don't have to sound so skeptical. Having second thoughts already?"
"No, just having fun at your expense. Trying to knock that ego of yours down a peg."
"Ouch, for the record you not wanting to see me is not funny."
"Aww that was sweet."
"I know, but it's true, so tomorrow, yeah?"
"Yeah, tomorrow, I'll be waiting for your call."
"That's nice to know, and don't worry I won't keep you waiting."
"That's nice to know," she says giggling at her little joke.
"Did you just giggle?"
"Yeah. So?"
"Nothing, it's just…refreshing coming from you."
"Oh…"
"I gotta go, but tomorrow."
"Okay, bye Garrison."
"Goodnight, Mercedes."
Mercedes enters her empty room shedding her coat and settling onto her bed. Today had caught her off guard, unexpected is an understatement. First Puck invades her 'her day', and then making a date with Garrison. This has been a day, but a day she feels good about. All of it.