Puck came to work the next, ignoring Rachel more so than ever. She tried harder to make him talk, but he clearly couldn't play favorites, it wouldn't make anything better. He sighed, sitting down at his 'desk.' Slowing sipping his coffee, Rachel came up to him, "Excuse me Mr. Puckerman, but why are you being so, cold?" She was clearly upset.

"Rachel, I can't date students. I'm sorry, I like you, I do, but I just can't let myself do this, to you or me."

"What about everything you said? What about waiting for me?"

"I am waiting for you, but in the mean time, we can't be fooling around, and even then, I can't date students, so I'd have to find another job."

"Maybe, maybe I can go to another school!"

"No, no. No Rachel. If anything, I'll relocate, but let's not worry about it till then, ok?"

"Ok, fair enough."

And so Rachel disappeared from Puck's life for a month. Then one day she bounced into class. "Guess what Mr. Puckerman?"

"What?"

She got real close to him and whispered, "I'm eighteen."

Her warm breathe on his neck made him shiver. "That's great."

"Well, what are you going to do?"

"Um, I, I don't know."

"So, I got the lead in this community play, would you be willing to help me run some lines after school?"

He felt pressured in no way he ever had before. He knew damn well he wouldn't be able to resist her if she tried anything. But then again, if he said no, he might hurt her, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. "Sure. Where?"

"At my house, here's the address," she handed him a paper and walked to her seat, sitting down and winking. He took a deep breathe and smoothed out his shirt. She was too much for him to handle; she had this perfect way of going about things of hers, and he melted away nearly every time he looked her way.

The day flew as his anxiety of meeting her after school crept up on him. He drove to her house, nervous of so many things; losing his job, her getting in trouble, him getting in trouble, getting carried away. He knocked on her door. A man opened it, "Hi, may I help you?"

"Yeah, I'm Rachel's teacher. She wanted some help with some homework."

Her father nodded, "She's upstairs."

"Thank you," he ran upstairs and looked at each door until he saw a pink one. He knocked quietly. She opened the door. He struggled to catch his breathe. She had a short skirt on, and a really tight top that went right above her belly button. He went in and shut the door behind him, "Are you insane?"

"No, I just, really like you," she circled him, dragging her finger from his cheek to his neck and down his back.

He shivered, "No, no, Rachel, this is wrong."

"From what I heard, you are the last person to care if something is wrong?"

He locked her door and grabbed her. His hands wrapped around her waist, he pressed her against the wall, kissing her so much he could barely breathe. He only stopped when he felt her struggling for air. He pulled away from her lips. "Noah, that. I don't know how to describe that, but I liked it, I want more."

He grabbed her, so eager he didn't even respond. He was on top of her on her bed, kissing her. His hand moved slowly up her thigh. She pushed him off, "You're, hurting me."

He stood up, "I'm. I'm sorry. See this is why we can't do this. I'm so sorry, I gotta go." He ran downstairs, quickly pushing open the door. He drove down the street and turned, so she couldn't see him, then parked. Sitting there, he just thought. She was amazing, the most amazing thing, ever. But he couldn't do that to her. He was bigger, stronger, more experienced. He knew what he was doing, and she had no idea. But he had to find a way. A way to either move past her, or get her to move past him.

Leaving was the only solution, but he loved his new job, and he couldn't ask her to leave her school. But, if he could train her, and get her to Broadway, then she could finish high school in New York, and start working on Broadway. Bulletproof.

A/N: Sorry it's kinda short. The next one should be longer.