The long and winding road
That leads to your door
Will never disappear
I've seen that road before
It always leads me here
Lead me to your door.
—The Long and Winding Road by The Beatles
Noah stood in the airport, his foot tapping impatiently on the linoleum floor. He's late, he thought.
Four days after Christmas, Noah was ready to leave Lima once again. He re-packed his bag and promised his near-to-tears mother that he would return for her birthday in March. His mother and sister drove him to the airport, where he kissed his mother goodbye and hugged Naomi tightly.
He had been waiting the past half an hour for his client Jake O'Malley to arrive. Noah was more than a little ticked that the internationally-famous soccer star's flight was delayed as their flight to England was in less than three hours. Noah groaned at the thought of having to go through the hassle of security in the bustling airport.
Finally, the monitor screen changed, showing that Jake's flight had arrived. About ten minutes later, Noah looked at his Blackberry, receiving a text from Jake. It read: Dude, I'm here. Don't freak out, man. Just go through security, and meet me at Starbucks in the international terminal. The kid knew him pretty well.
Noah groaned and grabbed his carry-on, heading to the escalators. The line for security was fairly short, so he got through quickly. He made a beeline straight for the Starbucks immediately on his right after leaving the security line. Noah let out a sigh of relief when he saw Jake sitting at a table, headed toward him, and took the other open chair.
"At ease, soldier," Jake said, saluting him. "Please don't throw that conniption fit you're dying to have. Here." He pushed a venti-sized cup at Noah. "Columbian brew, just the way you like it. Two Splendas, and enough cream to make it tan. You look like you need it."
Noah took a sip of the coffee gratefully. He looked up at the "kid" and had to smile. Jake O'Malley was one of his most successful clients. The six-foot-three muscularly lean guy with short blonde hair and green eyes was good-looking, charming, and a great athlete. If Noah had a vagina, he would totally want to tap that. Fortunately for Jake's image and sales, the female and gay male population felt the same way and wanted him while every man wanted to be him. Noah snagged the 23 year-old soccer star as his first client two years ago, and the two had become incredibly close. Noah made it a point to watch out for the kid's back; he had come to think of Jake O'Malley as the little brother he never had. After all, he knew that the kid had a crush on Naomi, who would be turning twenty in seven months. (He threatened Jake to stay away from Naomi until she turned twenty-two, what he considered an acceptable age for her to start dating.)
"Thanks, kid," Noah said. "You ready to head to London and kick some corporate ass?"
"What are we doing there again?" Jake said. He wasn't exactly the brightest bulb, and in some ways he reminded Noah of Finn.
"There are quite a few British sports store chains that want you to be their spokesperson. They figure that it would be good to have a Yank in their advertising, and it would be a great way to make a bigger name for yourself in the international market," Noah explained. "It'll be fun."
"Oh yeah, totally fun," Jake said as he rolled his eyes. The kid could still be pretty immature.
Let's hope that the Brits don't care, Noah thought. "Buck up, kiddo. This trip isn't all business, you know. We're gonna have a kick ass time."
Waiting for the plane to take off, Noah tried to make himself comfortable in his business class seat. He looked at Jake out of the corner of his eye; the kid was already bopping to whatever tune was on his iPod. The coast was clear.
He pulled his way-too-expensive black leather wallet out of his back pocket and opened it. Between his driver's license and the company AmEx was the very thing he was searching for: Rachel Berry's senior class picture.
Noah studied the picture. It was well-worn from all of the years he pulled it out to stare at it. Rachel was breathtakingly gorgeous in the picture, with her megawatt smile and an unusually relaxed posture. He flipped the picture to read the message that filled up the entire back:
Dearest "Puck,"
Just so you know, I've always hated that moniker. It's stupid, insipid, and irritating. It would only make sense if it alluded to the Puck in William Shakespeare's fine piece "A Midsummer's Night Dream," but you refuse to be referred to as a sprite because it is too similar to a fairy.
Noah sounds so much more mature and attractive. It's a charming Jewish name.
I'm going to miss your "badassness" and lovely arms when I'm in LA, but rest assured that I will never forget them! Even when I'm a famous star one day, I will always look back and remember our times together with great fondness.
You may want to keep this picture, as the autograph itself may be extremely valuable when I'm a world-class celebrity!
With love,
Rachel Berry
She even drew a gold star next to her name.
Noah absentmindedly ran his thumb over the infamous gold star. God, he missed her.
He looked back at the picture to smile at the "autograph" at the bottom right corner. He remembered when she went all out buying silver gel pens and Sharpies to sign pictures and yearbooks with during their senior year. She made him drive her back to the store again the next day because she needed to purchase matching gold pens for her "metaphors".
He was so engrossed in his memories that he jumped when he heard, "Damn… who's that beauty?"
If it weren't for the seat belt holding him down, Noah would have slammed his head into the carry-on compartment. He turned to look at Jake, who was practically drooling at Rachel's image. Sighing, Noah playfully slapped Jake on the backside of his head. "Retract the tongue, kid, before a bug flies in your mouth."
Jake did so. "So? Who is she?"
"This girl I went to high school with. Her name's Rachel—Rachel Berry, the one that got away," Noah admitted. "I'm hoping to see her when we get to England, since she lives there now and I haven't seen her in, like, eight years."
"Did you date her?"
"No. I wanted to," Noah confessed, "but it was too complicated."
"Complicated, my ass. I don't buy it," Jake scoffed. Waving off Noah's glare, he continued, "Either way, now is the time of the essence. You get your butt to London and make her fall in love with you. Bam, you get the girl that got away."
"Let's not forget that I'm going there to do business for you," Noah reminded him.
Jake snorted. "Don't worry, man. Plus, you said that we were going to have some fun. And we will. I turn on the charm, you negotiate the deal—we're good. Plenty of time for you to snag the chick."
"I'm not going there to 'snag' her, anyway. I just want to catch up with her," Noah said.
"Sure," Jake deadpanned. "And I'm going there to sex up the Queen of England."
Noah shook his head, giving up on the conversation. The engines were running and the plane was moving, ready to take off. Unfortunately, he hated the take off portion of the flight and usually just tried to sleep through it. He put the picture back in his wallet, then turned back to Jake. "Please just shut up. Oh, and never call a girl a chick." Noah winked. "Naomi hates it."
Flopping backwards on the hotel bed, Noah was prepared to take an afternoon nap. Until he heard an incessant knocking on his room's door.
He opened it to find Jake, perky as ever.
"What is the purpose of your visit? Business or pleasure?" Noah asked.
"Purely pleasure," Jake said, oblivious to his friend's sarcasm. "Our meetings aren't until tomorrow, so we have the rest of the day to do whatever."
"Okay, then. Go away. I want to sleep."
Jake sighed. "No. Noah, you are going to find Miss Rachel Berry and talk to her. You're here. You've waited eight years. Why waste another second?"
And that is how Noah found himself down at the concierge's desk asking for directions to Rachel's address.
After getting off at the wrong stops twice, Noah finally got to the right station. He walked out of the London Underground and onto the streets, following the directions he got from the concierge until he found himself in front of the nice row brick apartment buildings. Noah walked until he found the right numbered door.
This is it, he thought. After eight years, it's come down to this.
He knocked.
The door opened.
He held his breath.
The woman that opened the door wasn't Rachel Berry.
"Hi…Who are you?" the woman asked, the tone of her voice contrasting completely to the music that was playing in the apartment. Her questioning eyes glinted furiously against her dark chocolate skin.
"I-I'm Noah. Noah Puckerman. Um… does Rachel Berry live here?" Noah stuttered.
"You a friend of hers?" she asked, still suspicious.
He nodded. "Yeah, I was in the Glee club with her in high school."
"Oh," she said, visibly relaxing. "Come on in, then." She opened the door to let him through to the foyer and called out, "Oy! Rach! Visitor!"
Noah grew nervous with anticipation as he heard footsteps coming down the small staircase. Then, he saw her.
Rachel's jaw dropped in surprise.
"Puck?!"
Author's Note: Sorry that this is late! I have been so busy with catching up with all of my homework before school starts up again tomorrow. Unfortunately, because of all the delay that is for sure to happen, my storyline will be kind of behind. You know? Like a lot of the plot happens around really early January, but I may not post until later on… so please bear with me. I'm kind of going through a lot right now with my family and school, so I may not be able to post as regularly as possible.
But your reviews make me happy and encourage me to write as fast as possible! I'm really glad that a lot of people have put this on story alert. It puts a smile on my face when I'm really down.
Anyway, so next chapter should be in Rachel's point of view and may be quite a bit shorter. We'll be catching up on Rachel's life and then seeing how she and Noah interact :) Yay!
Love,
Lipsticked Mirror