Due to the shock of seeing her father, Quinn remained oblivious to the outside world. It was pouring with rain, black clouds hovered over her head and a harsh wind hit her face. She wore nothing but a vest top, with a small, black leather jacket over top, dark blue jeans, and (now incredibly soaked) black slip on shoes. She heard her mother call after her, but she blocked out the noise. She ran through the storm, not looking back. It was dark, but orange streetlights reflected in the deep puddles. She walked along the pavement, counting the cracks. Somehow, she seemed more broken than the pavement.
She had no clue where she was going. She couldn't go home. She didn't even want to see any of her friends right now. She had no-one.
Not that she wasn't already soaked, but it reached a new level when a car full of teenagers drove into a large puddle nearest the sidewalk, completely drenching Quinn. She would've broke down in tears right there and then, if it wasn't for the person who came next.
"Need a ride?" Said a familiar voice from a car that pulled up by the pavement. The barman's smiling face popped out of the front window of his car.
"I'm fine." She said, running a hand through her sodden hair.
"C'mon, it's no trouble," He persisted. She would've been just as stubborn, but for some reason, she just couldn't say no to his welcoming smile.
"So, where am I taking you?" He asked politely as the windscreen wipers frantically cleaned the window.
"Anywhere but my house." She muttered as she watched raindrops slide down the side window.
"This storm's getting worse," He sighed. "Do you wanna wait in my apartment while the rain dies down?"
"No, look, I'll just get out here." Quinn pointed to the sidewalk and undid her seatbelt.
"You're gonna catch pneumonia! Just wait in my apartment to get dry. I've got hot chocolate…" She was tempted, so finally agreed.
"So, where's that hot chocolate?" Quinn asked, winking, as she stood in (practically a stranger's) living room. The apartment was small and cramped, but relatively modern. Magazines were scattered around the room, but it gave it a more homely feel, rather than messy. The apartments were old, but had a great view of the city. She walked over to the wide window, forgetting about the fact she was dripping all over the floor.
"Haha, starting them right now," He called from the kitchen. "Uhm, I'm not sure if I've got any women's clothes, because I'm not really a dedicated transvestite. Let me check though,"
Quinn laughed dryly to herself. He returned shortly, holding a pair of shorts and a white t-shirt. He playfully threw them to her, with a friendly smile.
"Thanks," Quinn placed the shorts and shirt on the arm of the sofa and proceeded to pull off her soaked vest top. Realising he was still in the room, he turned around from the high school girl in his living room, who was standing in her bra. After a slight chuckle from Quinn, he turned back round, slightly blushing.
"Now that I've just undressed in your home, can I have your name?" She laughed, folding up her soggy vest top and jeans.
"Haha, it's Puck. Well, It's Noah Puckerman actually, but everyone calls me Puck."
"Noah? Not half bad…"
"Thanks? Haha, so, what's your name, strange girl who just undressed in my home."
"Strange? But it's Quinn. Quinn Fabray actually, but everyone calls me Quinn." She replied, winking.
Puck laughed with her, before disaperring for a few minutes and returning with two mugs of hot chocolate. He handed one to Quinn, and kept the other for himself as he sunk into the couch.
"Have a seat," He offered, pointing to the armchair, noticing Quinn standing awkwardly by the window. She accepted, and went to sit down. "The rain's not really dying down yet, and there's been flood warnings." He started. "I say give it half an hour, then I'll call you a taxi."
She nodded, unsure of how to respond, and stared out the window at the furious storm.
"So, do you make a habit of undressing in strangers' apartments?" He chuckled, attempting to start the conversation.
"No, lucky for you, you're the first one!" She replied, joining his smiling. "So, why would you let a 'strange', drenched girl you don't know into your apartment? I could murderer you and rob you right now," She giggled.
"You don't seem like the murderous type… But, I mean, I, I felt bad for you."
"Pity? Admit it, you've been thinking about me non-stop since last night," She winked and laughed slightly, before taking another sip of her hot chocolate.
"One thing I won't forget is you're hot chocolate–cream moustache." He gestured to her upper lip and laughed while she blushed increasingly. She quickly wiped her mouth and tried changing the subject.
"So, you never answered my question."
"What question?"
"From the other night, what a guy like you was doing working as a bartender."
"I believe you refered to me as… a 'Hottie', was it?"
"Ok, ok. I may have said that. But c'mon, why a bartender?"
"This isn't my full time job. I, I'm on leave."
"On leave? Like from the Army?"
"Yeah. 5 years, Sergeant Puckerman." He air saluted her, not realising how dorky he looked. Normally, a cheesy thing like that would've made Quinn wanted to throw up, but she thought Puck looked sort of… cute.
"Wow. So you're like, some war hero then?"
"Aha, I wouldn't call myself that."
"How many saves?"
"24, give or take a few."
"I'd call you a hero."
It was strange for Quinn to say something like that. As funny as it sounds, she rarely gave out compliments. She was actually rarely so open in conversation with anyone. But talking to this older bartender sergeant, she felt… different. Like she could trust him. Trust was always hard for Quinn, mainly because her life motto was 'People Always Leave'. It was something she lived by, and always told herself it before getting too close or attaching herself to anyone.
He shot her a grateful smile, before nervously looking down. After a few silent seconds, Quinn re-started the conversation.
"Hey, you play guitar?" She looked to the corner of the room where a classic wooden guitar sat. His eyes followed hers.
"Yeah, it's a sort-of… hobby of mine," He stood up, walked over and picked up his guitar. It fit in his hands perfectly, like he was made to hold it. He walked back over and sat back down, the guitar resting on his knee.
"Are you gonna play me something then?"
He met her gaze, and saw in her eyes that she was truly involved in him right now. So, for her, he began playing.
Today is gonna be the day
That they're gonna throw it back to you
By now you should've somehow
Realized what you gotta do
I don't believe that anybody
Feels the way I do, about you nowBack beat, the word is on the street
That the fire in your heart is out
I'm sure you've heard it all before
But you never really had a doubt
I don't believe that anybody
Feels the way I do about you nowAnd all the roads we have to walk are winding
And all the lights that lead us there are blinding
There are many things that I
Would like to say to you but I don't know howBecause maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me
And after all, you're my wonderwall
She was totally mesmerised. She thought it was skilled that he could play the guitar, but he could sing too. His voice was beautiful, probably the best she'd ever heard. Moments after he stopped, she was still caught up in what she'd just heard.
"Wow, you're really good."
"I'm ok I guess, it's just a hobby. Although, I did have my heart set on being a rock star when I was ten." He laughed, as he placed the guitar on the floor by his feet.
"Who didn't, right? Can you show me how to play?"
"Sure, yeah, it's easy." She sunk onto the floor, and so did he. He placed the guitar on her lap, and took a seat next to her, on her right. She awkwardly held the guitar, until he laughed at her attempt, she blushed, but he helpfully positioned it right for her.
"Ok, so just strum this chord," He placed her finger on the appropriate string and gradually helped her reach the note.
"See, it's that easy," He was still looking down, guiding her fingers, when she looked up at him. His focus changed from the guitar to her big, blue eyes. He saw so much in them. So much hope, fear, optimism, worry. He could read her so easily, and yet he barely knew her.
He felt a strange feeling in his stomach, and although he tried, he couldn't look away.
"Thanks," She whispered, slowly moving the guitar and breaking their gaze.
"Yeah, uh, no… no problem." He stumbled on his words, and awkwardly stood up. "Want another hot chocolate"?
She glanced at the watch on her wrist, although she already knew the answer.
"Unless you need to be getting home?" He asked.
"I'd love another hot chocolate." Her face lit up. So did his.