The flings between them continued. God knows Puck tried, but he just couldn't get her out of his system. Instead he felt like he was going through withdrawals if he went very long without touching her. In public, he still was able to keep up pretenses by coming down on her crazy, but when he could find a moment (which was maybe once a week), he'd still drag her into a closet to just be near her, touch her, even listen to her if she was having a bad day (which took a lot of restraint not to try to fix). Yet even that wasn't enough, and he found himself stretching his creative skills to find time to be with her.
The first night he snuck into her room happened to be a new moon—ridiculously dark to begin with, and as he pulled down the blinds, it enveloped the room entirely.
He could tell he startled her when he crawled into her bed, kissing her softly.
"Noah?" He couldn't help but smile as he imagined her mind fluttering, trying to decide if she was awake or dreaming.
"It's me babe," he murmured, burying his face into her hair and drawing her close.
"How did you—?" He knew she would ask how he knew where she lived; he wasn't going to tell her he'd found out freshman year when the football team had gone around egging houses after Homecoming.
"You know me babe; I'm just badass that way," he whispered, letting his hand slide up her tank, tracing up her soft skin.
After that first night, he'd sneak every couple of days or so; always after he knew she'd be asleep, even when she tried to stay up to watch him come in. They didn't always have sex; some nights they just lay together, enjoying the warmth between them (something he'd never admit he enjoyed with any chick). She stopped pushing his secrecy after awhile, when she realized that he'd open up about other (less revealing) things: she knew his favorite movie was Snatch; that he'd actually liked Guys and Dolls (which he insisted his mother forced him to see with his little sister) and could sing some of the songs quite beautifully; a fact she loved to tell him.
"My time of day is the dark time," he sang softly one night, as he began to inch from beneath the covers. She smiled and listened with her back turned, knowing he'd move more slowly, hesitantly, if she didn't try to see him.
A couple of deals before dawn
When the smell of the rainwashed pavement
Comes up clean, and fresh, and cold
And the grocery clerks are all gone.
That's my time of day
My time of day
And you're the only doll I've ever wanted to share it with me.
Rachel stood in front of New Directions at Rehearsal, staring into Finn's puppy dog eyes, pretending as he held her that his arms were a different set—stronger and shorter and attached to a beautiful set of hazel-green eyes.
I've never been in love before
Now all at once it's you
It's you forever more.
I've never been in love before
I thought my heart was safe
I thought I knew the score
But this is wine that's all too strange and strong
I'm full of foolish song
And out my song must pour
So please forgive this helpless haze I'm in
I've really never been
In love before.
Puck watched the two of them spin and sing and couldn't help but feel jealous. He'd made the mistake of opening up to the girl, and now he couldn't help but feel that she was using her knowledge against him. He knew that song like the back of his hand (though he'd only ever admitted it to one girl), and he could dance circles around Finn if given the chance. But he knew he couldn't take it, especially since he knew what he was feeling didn't exist, that the guy she knew wasn't real.
So he watched, repeating to himself that it didn't matter, that he didn't really care…which lasted until around 2 am when he kicked off his sheets, pulled on a pair of sweats, and jogged the six blocks to her house.
"Okay Diva, spill."
Rachel looked up in surprise to see Kurt, Mercedes, Tina, Brittany, and Santana all staring at her. Brittany had decided to hold a slumber party, and all the girls (and Kurt) except Quinn were sitting in the living room, eating pizza, painting nails, and watching one of the many movies of the night.
To be honest, Rachel hadn't been paying attention to any of it—she'd been thinking about Noah. This whatever-it-was had been going on for almost three months now, and she still knew as little about him as when they first met.
Well, that was a lie—she knew he loved music and sang beautifully (though she couldn't convince him to join Glee); that he had a mom and little sister whom he thought the world of; that he loved video games and had actually put a lot of effort into justifying the philosophy behind them; and that he seemed to think very little of himself. Regardless of his hard, fuck-all exterior, she could tell by the way he spoke of himself and getting out of Lima that he carried many insecurities about his own worth, despite her insistence about the potential she saw in him.
What she didn't know was what every girl in a relationship generally did: his face and his last name.
Meanwhile, she realized that her fellow girls (and Kurt) were still staring at her expectantly.
"What do you mean?" she asked, trying to stall for an excuse.
"I mean you're mind has been elsewhere for the past ever," Kurt replied. "We've all noticed it—you are just awful at hiding your emotions."
"What's his name?" Mercedes chimed in as Rachel blushed.
"I don't think I really want to talk about my personal relationships…"
"You don't want to talk about it?" Kurt repeated. "This must be good."
Rachel looked around at her friends (or the closest thing she'd had to friends since grade school) and contemplated how to explain her problem. She decided maybe it couldn't hurt to get an outside perspective…
"Well," she began slowly. "I've been…sort of dating this boy for about three months now."
"That's great Rachel!" Tina supplied enthusiastically.
"And you didn't tell us?" Kurt asked in shock. "Who is he?"
"His name is Noah," she answered, smiling in spite of herself. "He's musical, athletic, and very sweet."
"Aw," Tina smiled. "What's he look like?"
"Well—I don't know exactly," Rachel told them honestly. Her face flushed again at their incredulous faces. "I've never really seen him."
"Ooh! An online hookup!" Mercedes guessed. "Girl's expanding."
"Probably 'cause ManHands could never get a guy interested if he actually saw her face," Santana said, not even looking up as she inspected her newly-polished nails.
Rachel didn't want to admit otherwise, so she decided not to correct their off-assumptions. "Well, he just seems hesitant for us to actually meet—you know, face-to-face."
"Are you having cyber sex?" Santana asked, causing the entire group to turn to Rachel, who blushed even deeper (by now she probably resembled a tomato) and shook her head furiously. Santana scoffed. "He's probably gay—did you tell him about your dads?"
"I tried cyber sex once, but he kept telling me I needed insurance," Brittany offered.
Rachel tried to ignore the comments and moved to segue anywhere else.
"Hey," she told them, holding up Final Destination 3. "We haven't watched this movie yet."
Both Kurt and Mercedes threw her disapproving looks as she jumped up to put the disc in the player, but they halted their inquisition for the time being. Though Rachel was never a big fan of senseless graphic violence, she appreciated the distraction the movie provided.
When she got up to refill the popcorn bowl and grab more sodas (and a water for herself), she was surprised to see that Santana and Brittany had followed her.
"So Berry," the Latina said. "You really have no idea what this guy looks like?" Her eyebrows arched in disbelief as Rachel nodded wordlessly. "And you're okay with that?"
"Well, not exactly, but I don't see—"
"He could be anybody Berry," the Cheerio insisted. "The name is probably totally made up—he could be a pedophile, or old, or a loser."
"He could be me," Brittany added. When they looked at her, she clarified "it's not, though."
Santana turned back to Rachel. "Not that I care who you go screwing around with, RuPaul," she continued. "But no one's going to respect you what little they do if you find out your boyfriend is Figgins or Jew-Fro and you didn't even try to figure it out before you got all kinky."
Rachel paused. Santana had a point—not about Noah being old or Principal Figgins, but that she didn't really even know who she was with. Maybe she did deserve some answers; but how would she ever convince Noah she needed to know?
"Maybe," she conceded. "But how—"
"You just need to set up a meet or something—get him somewhere dark, where he feels comfortable, and then flip on your cell and take a pic or something before he knows what hit him."
Santana looked at Rachel pointedly, who considered the proposal.
"You really believe that will work?" Rachel asked dubiously.
Santana and Brittany nodded, as the blonde explained, "totally; one time I was making out with Mark Taylor in the janitor's closet, and I thought he was thinking about San, so I turned on the light by the garbage bags and then hit him with my phone."
Rachel and Santana stared at the girl for a moment before part of her words caught Rachel's attention. She said nothing as she quickly grabbed her supplies and strode back to the living room.