Persistently, Puck calls Rachel thirty two times over the weekend, leaving winded messages she isn't in the mood to listen to. She sends the calls to her voice mail, firmly aware she is likely to never listen to them. She understands it very well. He's remorseful, he's seeking forgiveness and redemption. She tries to keep her cool, her composure is the only thing she has left in this relationship, rather, what's left. She ignores the nagging voice in the back of her mind, the one that keeps repeating if he kept it in his pants, there wouldn't be any need to seek forgiveness. She doesn't stop to discuss feelings of inadequacy. His infidelity, while directly affecting her, is not a reflection of her imperfections. This is not a reflection of her ability to be a superior girlfriend, she repeats to herself; the words eventually becoming a mantra to her ears. She deletes his number from her phone, a feeble attempt at removing the temptation of returning his calls. She has his number ingrained in her memory, she isn't sure it would be possible to forget if she tried.
Sunday night, he ends the phone calls, driving over to her house. After an hour of ringing her doorbell, her father opens the door, greeting him with a stony stare. Puck swallows. He has never done well with fathers, and Berry has two. Puck waits for her father to do something, anything, but Barry only gestures up the stairs to her room. Surprised, he walks up. Rachel stands there silently, her eyes glazed with iciness. Her thumbs are hooked into the edges of her skirt, and she looks relatively normal. He wonders where she's hiding her emotions.
"It's freezing outside. I thought you'd never let me in," he says, rubbing his hands together for warmth. He tries to make light of the situation, perhaps diffuse the tension with humor.
"Eventually, you would have left."
"We should talk about what happened."
She feigns a puzzled look but he's not buying what she is attempting to sell.
"Berry, you know we need to talk. We need to talk so you can work on forgiving me."
"How presumptuous. It may have been easy for you to commit the actions that you did; it may even be easy enough for you stand here in front of me, expectantly waiting for my forgiveness. You're wrong. It's soon, it's too soon. You are incorrect in your assumptions that I would want to see you this quickly, much less want to open this topic for discussion but you're here, I suppose we should proceed. I would prefer to get this over with rather quickly."
The two lapse into awkward silence after her speech, he's unsure what to reply. She's always possessed a knack for long run on sentences, the words winding around everything.
"I made a list," she says finally. "I composed a list of contractual obligations for you to follow to prevent the occurrence of any future incidents. Perhaps you could take it home and review it in the event there are terms and conditions you would like to amend, or even add. You could review this list, and if you are still interested in repairing the damage you've inflicted onto our relationship, then you're free to court me. I don't want the eyes of the school on me, pitying that I took back a cheater. Currently, our relationship has hit a standstill, a pause if you will. I do not wish to be referenced as your girlfriend during this current stage. I'd rather not be referenced as your anything. I'm not taking you back without your necessary steps to resolve this. If not, then perhaps, perhaps your indiscretion only quickened the dissolution of our relationship."
"Court?"
She cocks her head at him, the corners of her lips tilting downward at the way the word falls from his lips.
"Yes. It is a prerequisite for any relationship. Courting often involves flowers and chocolates, dating in restaurants and perhaps Friday night movies. I'm not familiar with the ritual but I suppose you could inquire around for more logistics. We did not have any courting in the beginning of our relationship, what with Quinn and Finn, and various other external factors. Me and you quickly fell into the swing of things and in hindsight, that may have not been a wise decision, especially given the circumstances we find ourselves in now."
He wants to roll his eyes and comment on the situation that brought them together but he bites his tongue; he doesn't see it being helpful at this stage. He's already fucked, there's no need to further destroy things. His brain routes to a different tactic.
"I love you, I'm sorry; isn't that enough?"
She blinks once but she isn't surprised he would attempt to play the feelings card. Normally, he hates discussing feelings but not this time, not when he's left her with this humiliation to bear. She watches him, studying the breaths he takes while he waits for her to speak. She feels the panic snake across her rib cage, tightening and suffocating her organs, as she absorbs his brief sentence; the breath stopping in her throat. She blinks, startled. She was once able to breathe in unison with his heart, the two of them fused together from all they do together, all they say. She's felt his voice vibrate against her skin, leaving an imprint she's not sure she can scrub off.
Snap out of it, she thinks. Snap out of it.
"I fail to see what role love has to play in any of this. If you're gazing at me because you would like me to repeat the words back you, you're mistaken. I like you, love carries too much weight for me to admit to such a thing, especially to a boy who just cheated on me and is expecting me to pretend that everything is fine. Furthermore, it's a bit uncouth of you to want that from me to begin with. I like you but right now I don't like you enough. I don't particularly care for your face. Please vacate my premises."
She walks over to her bedside table, and pulls out the writing, the list she formulated. Taking the list from her hands, he folds it gently and puts it into his pocket. He reaches out to touch her wrist, to trace the skin with his thumb he's done times before, but he sees her flinch; he drops his hand before he has the chance to be burned by the flame. He looks at her silently, his eyes washing over her, waiting and hoping she'll add something more to her words.
"I'll see you at school tomorrow, then."
She nods in confirmation and after he's gone, she lays on her bed; her eyes directed at the ceiling, wondering if this is the right decision. She doesn't believe she thought this through very much. She doesn't think she's thought through the judgmental stares she's bound to receive from others. She's setting a very dangerous precedent for this behavior. People will look at her and assume she let Puck get away with his actions, he's liable to repeat them again. Frowning, she turns over to the side facing the wall. She has a feeling she's likely to get little sleep tonight.