Author's Note: Wow... I'm in awe of the response this story has gotten. Thanks to all who have read and reviewed.

A couple of people asked why the last chapter was called Swine Flu... I write on a couple of different computers, so if I need to got back and reread something I've written, I have to use the site to do it. I gave the chapters names yesterday because it makes it easier for me to keep track of what happened, when, and to find what I'm looking for quickly. Most of the names are pretty much lame exercises in word association, but hey it works for me. :) So in Ch 26 the blonde calls Puck a pig... and lately, thanks to work, every time I think of a pig, I think of "swine flu".

Told ya... lame. Sorry for the confusion. :)

BTW- If you still haven't read "Conversations between two McKinley High Students" by Glow, stop here and go read it first. It's amazing. Freaking amazing. Plus the chapter titles aren't lame like mine.

Disclaimer: Still don't own any of these peeps.

Rachel was mentally making a list all of the negative consequences she was likely to suffer due the decisions she had made tonight. One...When, and if, she ever got home, she would likely be grounded for an indeterminate period of time. Two... Standing out in the cold and rainy weather greatly increased her chances of getting sick, which would adversely affect her ability to sing. Three... This in turn, put the Glee club in a precarious position at sectionals. Without her, their chances of winning were minimal. Four... When word of the evening's events got out at school, the level of harassment she experienced on a daily basis was going to increase exponentially.

She decided not to add the fact that she had ruined any chance with Puck, because that would imply that there had actually been a chance in this first place.

Rachel had managed to walk two blocks before the drizzle had turned into a downpour. She was soaked to the bone when she spotted the large oak tree in the front yard of a nearby house. Upon further inspection, she found a spot of dry ground next to the wide trunk and sat down. She leaned her back against the solid tree, brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms them. After resting her forehead on the wet denim, a wave of exhaustion consumed her.

It was several minutes before she realized that stopping had been a bad idea. The combination of cold air and wet clothes was bad enough, but at least when she was walking, the physical exertion had generated body heat. Once she sat down, the cold seeped through every inch of her body until she was shivering uncontrollably. She knew she should get up and return to the party. It would be humiliating, yes, but it had to be better than dying of hypothermia.

The image of Puck kissing Santana flashed through her head. On second thought, perhaps freezing to death wasn't so bad.

Rachel willed her limbs to move, but they seemed to have a mind of their own. She couldn't stop the violent shakes that were tearing through her body, and for the first time in her life, she was completely and totally at a loss for what to do.

She was unsure of how long she had been sitting there. Five minutes? Ten minutes? A half hour? She struggled to keep her mind clear, but a lacy haze was creeping over her.

She thought she was dreaming when she heard Puck calling her name.

"Rachel?"

She smiled inwardly, she liked it when he called her Rachel. She liked it when he did a lot of things... like touch her, or kiss her...

"Rachel!"

Her mind wandered, and she thought about how warm his body was when it was pressed up against hers... and how his kisses made it feel like molten lava was running through her veins. She felt like she was floating now. She could no longer feel the rough bark on her back, or the hard ground underneath her... Just strong arms... Strong arms? Were did that come from?

"Jesus Rach... c'mon, you're scaring me."

With a start, her eyes flew open and she realized that Puck was carrying her through the rain.

"P...put me d...down!" she croaked, struggling against him weakly.

"Not likely," he muttered. "Stay still."

Another round of shivers racked her body, and instinctively she tried to snuggle closer to his warm body.

Puck groaned. "God, Rach... please stop that."

There was the sound of car door opening, and he plopped her down into the warm dry truck.

She watched out of the corner of her eye as he climbed in the driver's side and pulled the door shut behind him. Reaching behind the seat, he pulled out a gym bag and set it between them. He dug through the bag and extracted several items of clothing. Without any warning, he stripped his wet shirt off. Rachel tried not to stare as he pulled a dry T-shirt over his head, but the brief glimpse of his bare chest sent a shiver through her that she knew had nothing to do with being cold.

Puck grabbed a red McKinley sweatshirt and held it out to her.

"Your turn," he said with a wicked grin.

Rachel looked at the sweatshirt longingly. Her soft pink cashmere sweater had turned into a cold itchy mess, but the idea of taking it off in front of Puck was less than appealing. The interior lights were off, but the streetlights cast a warm glow of illumination throughout the inside of the truck.

"N..no thanks," she replied, her teeth chattering.

His face softened, "C'mon Rach, you're soaked. You'll never get warm with those wet clothes on."

She raised an eyebrow warily.

He raised his free hand in a gesture of surrender and he smiled.

"I admit, it's a good line, but I'm serious. No funny business. I won't even look."

She felt another round of shivers hit her, this time from the cold, and she decided she was being ridiculous.

"F..fine, but n..no peeking."

"Scout's Honor" he said, in mock seriousness.

He set the sweatshirt down next to her and turned his head.

She tried to pull the sweater off, but her fingers were numb from the cold, and she couldn't get a grip on the bottom edge. After several minutes of fumbling and botched attempts, she gave up. Puck turned, and before she could protest, he smoothly grasped the hem of the wet, soggy material and peeled it up and then over her head.

Horrified she wrapped her arms around herself quickly, but the look on his face told her she hadn't been quick enough. He sat there, staring down at her with a look that made her stomach flutter. She couldn't reach for the sweatshirt without dropping at least one arm, and he didn't seem inclined to help her out.

"S..shirt?"

"Huh?" he said, not moving is eyes.

"T..the sweatshirt p..please? I'm f..f..freezing."

"Oh, yeah, right..." he said, with a quick shake of his head. "Sorry."

He grabbed the sweatshirt and yanked it over her head. She slid her arms into the sleeves, and he tugged it the rest of the way down. The sweatshirt was his obviously, and she was swimming in it. Looking down at her, he laughed and grabbed a sleeve cuff and rolled it up, and then repeated the action on the other side.

Rachel snuggled into the soft warm material, and tried not to notice that it smelled like Puck. She flinched when he leaned into her, and slid a hand behind her neck, but he merely lifted up and pulled her long wet hair out of the sweatshirt.

Within minutes she had warmed up considerably. As the shivers and chattering teeth abated, her anger slowly returned.

"Well then... Thank you very much for finding me. I appreciate everything you've done. I realize that you've already gone above and beyond the call of duty, but if it's not too much trouble, could you please drop me off at my house?" she asked, her voice cold and distant.

"Huh? You want to go home?"

"Well, I certainly don't want to take up any more of your evening. I imagine Santana is anxiously awaiting your return."

"What? Why would Santana be.."

"Don't," she said forcefully, holding up her hand. "Don't insult my intelligence. I'm well aware of what happened after I left earlier, and I would prefer not to hear any lies or excuses. If you'll just drop me off, we can pretend like this whole night never happened. Monday morning you can go back to dousing me with slushies."

"Rach..." he said pleadingly.

"Don't 'Rach' me," she snapped.

"Rachel, listen to me..."

"I already said I don't want to hear it."

"STOP! Stop interrupting me," he said, his voice almost a shout.

She was stunned.

"Look, I know what you think you saw, but if you'd be quiet long enough, I could explain to you just how wrong you are."

"I told you," she said through gritted teeth, "that I don't want your excuses."

"Fine Rachel, have it your way," he said sharply, "but I promise you, when you figure out what actually happened, you're going be to kicking yourself in the ass."

She hesitated... she could feel her convictions wavering. Maybe... But then the image flashed again through her mind, long arms wrapped around his neck, the glimpse of a red and white skirt...

"I saw you Puck, I saw you kissing her. That's what actually happened."

Puck was silent for a moment.

"You ran off, you left me. Left me for Finn." he said.

"What," she spat, "Is that supposed to be an excuse?"

Puck shrugged."No, but it happened."

"I know what you think but it's not how it looked..." she said.

"I saw you Rachel. I was there. You left me and ran after Finn."

"But..." she started.

"But what Rach? There's more to the story? It wasn't what it looked like?" he asked.

"Exactly!," she said with exasperation. Then her face fell as the realization hit her."Oh...."

"Exactly."

Rachel slumped back in the seat. She couldn't believe that Noah Puckerman had just outsmarted her.