The second time he sees her, she totally spots him first.
The room is loud and tightly packed, the lighting so muted that irregular shadows are cast across all those present. She realizes that her four inch stiletto heels are not enough to keep her from feeling dwarfed by the crowd, and she's feeling a little claustrophobic right now, but she's alright with that because her coworker's hand is splayed out across her lower back, his arm brushing hers, and he's helping her navigate through the throngs of people. He's chatting to her amiably, using his free hand to make dramatic gestures as he tries to express himself. She's laughing as they approach the little tables near the corner, and they grab all the free chairs they can find, setting them up impossibly close. The music is loud, but not deafening, and it's actually really good. The current band is lively, and they're interacting with the crowd as they play.
Several members of her group, mostly guys, separate from them then, heading to the bar to pick up a little liquid fun and courage. One of her close friends also opts to head to the bar, announcing that she's 'looking for something a little stronger than alcohol'. Rachel arches a brow in suspicion, but her friend just winks before heading off towards the bar with the others. She leans back in her chair, scanning the direction her friend is heading in. She breaks out in a laugh as soon as she understands; trust her friend to be the first to notice the hot bartender.
It had been a good night for them all. Aside from a disastrous backstage wardrobe malfunction, the final show of the night had gone off without a hitch. Of course, like most nights, they've headed out to celebrate their immense talent, success, and fabulosity (modest they are not). Tonight, however, is a little more special than most nights out, as one of the leads is celebrating a birthday, more specifically, the lead that had his arm around her shoulders. He had been given supreme control of the night, and now bore the authority to dictate where they went (he had the good grace to not look too disappointed when Rachel informed him that a strip club was not a feasible option).
Surprisingly, he had chosen tonight to admit that he was a closet jazz fan (he blamed his previous role in Chicago), and declared that they should all head to a jazz club. She wasn't all too familiar with the jazz scene, but she appreciated it well enough, and she definitely appreciated the birthday boy, who seemed rather adamant that she stay right by his side all night.
The rest of their party return with the drinks in hand, and, after a little persuading, the guys convince the girls to do shots with them. Rachel makes him promise to not let her do anything too stupid tonight, and he responds with a cocky smile and a noticeably half-hearted promise. She trusts him despite his response, so she laughs. The shots are a good way to start off their night, and soon everyone is loosened up and laughing.
She's chatting over the noise with her coworkers when the music comes to a stop. They, along with the rest of the crowd, applaud the band as they take their equipment down. Another band moves in to set-up, but her attention is back on her friends. The music that blasts from the speakers during the intermission is more low-key that what they were listening to live, so now she can actually hear the conversation she's been participating in.
Even though she's glanced over at the new band a few times, she doesn't notice anything until they begin the sound check. That's when she hears his voice, and that's when she looks up. He does a little countdown before joking around with his band mates to entertain the crowd. She doesn't remember how long it's been since the day they crossed each other on the street; she didn't even remember that day until now.
He's standing there, center stage with a guitar in hand, and he's probably never looked better. His outfit stirs something within her, bringing forth memories she'd long forgotten. She remembers, back before they were anybody, back to when that small little town could still be called home, and back to that early August night. She almost smiles then, but she's quickly being distracted by her friends and her attention leaves him.
At the persuading of the guys, who all promise they won't let them do anything too stupid, they all take shots again. One of the guys decides to clarify that if the girls want to do something like, say…make out, no one's going to stop them. Because that isn't stupid, it's beautiful. When the other guys agree, even the gay one, the girls laugh and respond with things like "fuck you!" and "dream on!"
His band starts playing then, and judging by the crowd's reaction they're pretty popular around there. Watching the band perform, she decides it isn't hard to see why. The music is good, the guys are cute, and Noah's singing in the front and practically eye-fucking every girl he looks at. When he winks at a clearly homosexual man in the crowd, well, she has to raise a brow at that. She thinks that if she ever speaks to him again, she'll have to call him out on it.
Her coworker grabs her attention, pouting in a way she finds immensely entertaining. He's upset that she's focusing more on the band than him, and of course she apologizes profusely; it is his big day after all. She laughs and concedes, returning her attention to her friends. Her group is quickly becoming loud and obnoxious, but the music is still louder so it's okay. The more they drink the more over-the-top dramatic they become, and soon they're talking about the weirdest things, like whatever happened to the Chihuahua from the Taco Bell commercial, or like whether the lamp in the corner is crooked, or whether the bartender on the right is hetero or bi (and does he seem like the kind of man to be interested in a threesome?). It's obnoxious, but it's how they do drunk. They are strictly in-your-face and on-your-mind kinds of people; they are practically Broadway personified (again, modesty is not their forte).
The boys part to grab a few more drinks (and see if they can figure out the bartender), and her gaze wanders to the stage again. She watches him for a moment, a smile tugging at her lips. Nothing about him is Broadway. His voice isn't fluid enough, his movements not controlled enough, his presence too intimidating, and his mannerisms far too indecorous to live a life like hers. And that's quite alright, she decides, because it's obvious he's in his element now, and this is the happiest she thinks she's ever seen him. He's not in the world of rock and roll he'd talked about, dreamt about, but maybe he'd come to realize that that particular lifestyle wouldn't do him any good. God knows, he never listened to her when she tried to explain that.
Which, she could have realized but didn't, might have actually been for the best. He had found this on his own, and she would have been proud of him if she'd been thinking about it.
She's intoxicated enough to laugh when he winks at the blonde closest to the stage, and when he begins singing directly at the woman, she rolls her eyes. Knowing him, and judging by the expression on the blonde's face, he is going to get laid after the show. For some reason this makes her smile, and she actually feels glad that he still has a bit of whatever-the-hell-he-had-before left in him. If she were any more sober, she'd probably ask herself why she cared.
It's then that his gaze sweeps over the tables, and their eyes lock for the first and last time that night. She would have to bet that he's surprised to see her. Again. She'd be surprised if she was capable of controlling her thoughts right now.
She offers him a slow smile, soft and polite, and for a moment it's almost like she's sober. He inclines his head slightly in what she assumes is a sign of acknowledgment, but her head feels a little fuzzy and she doesn't really care right now. He looks away then, not missing a beat in the song, and she doesn't miss his gaze.
Turning back to her friends, she hardly glances at the stage for the rest of the time they're there. Every now and then he may glance over at her, but that's just because eyes are easily drawn to familiar faces. Well, that, and she's sexy as hell in her little, green, halter-top dress. But he's got plenty of sexy right in front of him, so mostly he focuses on that.
Her head is moving in time with the music, and she spends the rest of the time laughing and chatting and drinking with her friends. None of them get up to dance; it's still too early for that (they're all too cool to dance before midnight), so they stay where they are and order more drinks. It won't be long, probably, until they're all belting out show tunes, and that's probably when they'll be kicked out (sometimes all the money in the world isn't enough to save you).
She's more than delightfully buzzed as the alcohol works its way through her system, and she's laughing at something her friends says, though she can't remember if what he said is actually funny. She also doesn't remember sitting in his lap, or when he put his arms around her, but she'll roll with the punches. They're still laughing and having a good time, and she's feeling a lot less uptight. She just cheers when one of her friends whistles at Noah, though she does help restrain him when he decides he wants to "Get a piece of that!"
She thinks that maybe he caught Noah winking at the men too.
Tonight may have been considered a step in the wrong direction, considering they don't even talk to each other this time. Her and her friends vary from tipsy to flat-out drunk, and they're all laughing as they exit the club in favor of heading to the new bar down the street. She links arms with the birthday boy to stop herself from stumbling around, and she giggles when he smiles down at her. By tomorrow she will have already forgotten all the details, so for her it might as well not have happened.
Meanwhile, his eyes and attention are on the blonde in the front row; he doesn't even notice her leave, and he doesn't look for her after the shows done.
Thought I'd trying focusing more on Rachel for this chapter. What do you think? I'll definitely go back to Puck in the next one, but I think it'll be more interesting if I go back and forth a bit.
Reviews are adored beyond anything else, though alerts are still pretty sweet.
I'll warn you now, I'm serious when I say this story is angsty. It shouldn't be too horrible, there will be sweet and funny moments and all that, but it's not going to be all rainbows and sunshine and flowers and what-not.
There is a poll on my page regarding how this story will end. I'm leaving it up to the readers to decide if they want a happy ending, or a sad ending. If you want a say, go vote!
I've thought it over, and I think I'm going to stick with a T rating. Nothing against M, but at the moment I feel that it's not needed in this storyline.