And So It Seemed To Confess 3/5
Title: And So It Seemed To Confess
Chapter: 3/5
Pairing: Puck/Rachel
Word Count: 6,200
Summary: AU He isn't worried about Rachel talking about him being in therapy at school. Nope, Puck's worried that Rachel might tell her dad what Puck used to do and Dr. Berry will get him sent back to juvie.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Texting with Rachel Berry is kind of a trip.
She spells out everything and always uses punctuation, which he would probably find more weird if he hadn't done quite a bit of texting with Quinn last year, who's totally anti-text speak or whatever. For every one message that Puck sends Rachel though, he gets back two or three just because she can't keep her replies short enough for just one. Texting makes sense for them though, because they don't have any classes together and she, apparently, is busy after school most days with dance classes and voice lessons and whatever else. They don't even have the same lunch period.
Puck's mom still has him basically on lockdown; he has to be home right after football practice even when she can't pick him up herself, and he hasn't even tried to convince her to let him go out like he used to on a weekend. He hasn't really spent much time going to parties in the last year, so it's not like missing them is anything new.
It just means that he has all kinds of time free to text with Rachel, who doesn't even give him attitude about the fact that he can't come to her house or whatever the way Santana does. And the fact that it's Rachel means that he isn't trying to convince her to sext, so they actually have conversations.
Rachel is a girl with a lot to say, and it turns out that she's actually kind of fun to talk to. In between telling him things about herself - and he learns a lot of things about her - she asks him really random questions, like which of his tee shirts is his favorite and how he likes to spend rainy weekend days and whether he prefers curly or straight hair on girls. He has an epiphany when she tells him about having two dads and being born via surrogate; that's why she doesn't look like Dr. Berry. She gets really serious when she starts talking about New York and Broadway, which is the big post-graduation goal, but other than that, she's kind of hilarious and a lot more interesting than most of the girls that he's ever talked to.
And honestly, Puck doesn't put this much effort into getting to know girls that he just wants to bang. The only chick that he really feels like he knows is Santana, and that's the result of knowing her since middle school and spending nearly two of those years railing her pretty regularly. He got to know Quinn more than a little when she was pregnant, but there are things that you learn about a person when you live with them whether you - or they - want to or not. The fact that she majorly resented Puck for everything didn't really make her want to open up or whatever though.
He gets two pages into the assigned chapter of Of Mice and Men when he reaches for his phone and taps out a quick, what are you doing? to Rachel. This book is really depressing, and if he has to read it, he might as well take little breaks to talk to someone who's probably going to say something hilarious. That's why he started texting Rachel in the first place.
He only gets two paragraphs further in the story before his phone rings. "I just painted my nails," Rachel says when he answers. "I'll smudge the polish if I try to text."
He doesn't have anything to say to that, so he asks, "Have you read Of Mice and Men?"
She makes a noise in the affirmative. "It's sad."
"It's boring," Puck corrects, letting the book fall shut and dropping it off the side of the bed. He's read everything up to this point; it won't hurt to read the Spark Notes for this chapter. He reaches for his laptop to pull up the page.
"So you're talking to me to avoid doing your reading assignment?"
"Nah. I'll do it later," he lies, clicking on the right chapter on the website. "What are you doing?"
"Lying on my bed," she answers, filling Puck's head with images of what she might look like lying on her bed. He's never been in her room, but he imagines that her bedspread is purple. "I was watching Funny Face while I painted my nails, but I paused it to call you."
"Is that one of those musicals?"
"It's a musical, yes. It isn't really one of my favorites, but I was in the mood for Audrey Hepburn."
He wants to tell her that it's weird, but he figures it isn't any different than being in a CoD mood instead of a Fallout mood, so whatever.
"Can I ask you a question, Noah?" She uses his name in texts too, but it's different to hear her say it. He usually doesn't like it when people his age call him Noah - he's been Puck for long enough that using his given name is like an insult - but it doesn't bother him when Rachel does it.
"What's up?"
"Why do you talk to me?" His mind goes a little blank at her question, but she keeps talking and saves him from having to respond right away. "I mean, even at the beginning of this school year, you were looking right through me. I just don't understand."
When she puts it like that, he thinks a better question is why she's talking to him. "Things change," he says instead. "I like talking to you."
It isn't a lie. He would rather talk to her than most people.
"I like talking to you, too," she says quietly, almost like she doesn't quite want to admit it. "You're different than I thought you were."
"Yeah?"
He hears her take a little breath on the other end of the line. "Yeah."
He kind of wants to ask her what she thought before, but she starts talking about Fred Astaire before he can, sucking him into this weirdly hilarious conversation about men who date younger women and midlife crises that leads into a discussion of foreign cars that actually doesn't make him want to roll his eyes every three seconds.
He really does like talking to Rachel.
*
"Tell me about your friends, Noah."
Puck gives Dr. Berry a weird look.
"You're a seventeen-year-old guy. You're popular." Dr. Berry shrugs his shoulders. "You never talk about your friends in here."
Rachel flashes through his mind, but Puck pushes it aside. "Being popular doesn't mean having a lot of friends," he says after a second. "Like, there are always people around and everyone knows your business, but that doesn't mean anybody's got your back."
"Does anyone have your back?"
His impulse is to say no, but he takes a second to think about the question. "Mike Chang. He's like, super chill, and we've been friends since middle school. And Santana, when she feels like it."
"Your girlfriend?"
Puck snorts. It isn't deliberate. "Not hardly. We tried dating, but we suck at it. And she's kind of a bitch."
Dr. Berry grins instead of reprimanding him for calling a girl a bitch. Puck tries to watch what he says in front of the dude, but the fact that he doesn't ever make Puck feel like he's done anything wrong makes it really easy to say whatever he wants. Sometimes shit slips.
"What about Finn?"
Puck takes a slow breath. It's the first time that name's come up since they talked about football all those weeks ago. "Finn and I aren't friends any more," he says simply after a moment.
"Because of what happened with his girlfriend?"
"And the fact that she lied to him about being the dad for like, four months." It's stupid, because he should know better by now, but he's surprised that Dr. Berry doesn't really react to this piece of information.
"And you went along with it?" Puck nods. "Who told Finn the truth?"
"Me."
"Why did you wait so long?"
"She wanted Finn to be the father instead of me. He fell for it because he didn't think she would have cheated on him or whatever." Puck tells Dr. Berry the story in as few words as possible. How Finn was stupid enough to believe that he knocked up his girlfriend because he came in the hot tub. How she lived with the Hudsons after her dad threw her out. How Puck got pissed off and totally fucked their friendship when he called Finn out for being a moron and believing her hot tub story and admitted that he was the father one day at basketball practice.
Puck doesn't know why he's talking about this. He doesn't want to. At least, he didn't think that he did. But once he starts, the words just keep falling out of his mouth, and Dr. Berry listens without asking any questions or, really, reacting at all, even though Puck is well aware that this entire story is fucking stupid. Finn was stupid to believe it all, sure, but Puck was a stupid asshole to go along with it, and Quinn was a stupid fucking bitch for doing that to the two of them in the first place.
"What happened to the girl after you told Finn the truth?"
Puck blinks at Dr. Berry when he finally speaks.
"You said she was living with Finn because her parents kicked her out."
Puck realizes that he hasn't said Quinn's name once in all of this. It seems right somehow. "She moved in with us," he answers. "Finn's mom would have let her stay, but I guess she actually does have some shame."
Dr. Berry's mouth twitches, and all at once, Puck is finished with the conversation. It's one thing to talk about how his friendship with Finn ended, but it's another to talk about what it was like to have Quinn living with him, sharing his bed because they didn't have a spare room and his mom figured that she couldn't get more pregnant, spending all this time with this girl who legitimately hated him for ruining her life even though she had her own hand right in the middle of all that.
And talking about Quinn will lead to talking about the baby, which he definitely doesn't want to do.
"Do you think--"
The timer beeps then, cutting off Dr. Berry in mid-sentence and saving Puck, thankfully, from whatever the guy was going to say.
"I guess that's all for today," Dr. Berry says, leaning forward to set his pad on the coffee table when Puck stands up. "I'll see you next week, Noah."
It's weird, probably, the way that Puck feels like he just got out of something when he's walking around the side of the Berry house to his mother's car idling at the curb.
*
Puck isn't even looking for her when he sees it happen.
He's just walking down the hallway, going from English to the locker room to dress out for weights. Rachel's standing in front of the bulletin board outside the auditorium, reading something posted there, and Puck thinks that he might stop and see if he can make her laugh the way she did the last time they talked on the phone, sort of breathless after he said something that was only a little dirty.
He's just a few steps away from her when Karofsky tosses the slushie in her face. The guy doesn't even slow down, tossing the empty cup towards the trash can in the corner when he rounds it. It makes a hollow, plastic sound when it hits the floor instead.
The hallway is quiet for just a second, and then the hum of voices comes back. No one makes any moves toward where Rachel is standing stock still. Her back is to Puck, but he can see the slushie dripping off of her, landing in the orange puddle at her feet.
Rachel flinches when he sets his hand on her back. Her eyes are wide when she looks up at him, sticky liquid dripping off her eyelashes when she blinks rapidly.
He's never stuck around for the aftermath of someone being slushied before. He's never even thought about it, not really. His shoes squeak on the floor when he starts leading Rachel to the bathroom. She freezes right outside the door, not moving even when he pushes it open for her.
"Go away, Noah," she whispers, not meeting his eyes.
He just shakes his head, wrapping his fingers around her upper arm and leading her into the bathroom, not caring that it's the girls' bathroom and there are a pair of Cheerios standing in front of a mirror adjusting their stupid ponytails. He ignores the way that they giggle at his presence before they leave.
He doesn't really know what to do, so he just stands there next to the sink when Rachel reaches for a paper towel and smooths it over her face, removing the bulk of the moisture.
"Are you okay?" he finally asks.
She glances up at him, her fingers going to unbutton the light pink cardigan sweater she's wearing, now stained with large spots of orange syrup. She's wearing a black tank top underneath with skinny little straps and lace at the top, and he can see the black straps of her bra. She drops the sweater in the next sink, then starts pushing at her hair, separating the strands that have slushie in them from the parts that don't. She doesn't say anything until after the warning bell for the next class has rung and Puck just keeps standing beside her, watching her lean over the sink and hold pieces of her hair under the running water.
"What are you still doing here?" she finally asks, reaching back and twisting the elastic on her wrist around her hair until it's gathered at the nape of her neck in a messy knot. She shakes her head a little when he doesn't answer. "Go away, Noah," she repeats quietly, tearing off another paper towel and holding it under the still-running faucet.
He watches her reflection when she starts dabbing at her cheeks with the wet towel. "I'm sorry I ever did this to you." He says it quietly, and she meets his eyes in the mirror. He looks away, grabbing his own paper towel and getting it wet. "No one deserves this," he murmurs, rubbing the towel gently at a sticky spot he can see on her collarbone.
"Why did you?"
He just barely hears the question, she asks it so quietly, but it makes something twist in his stomach. "I can't remember," he answers honestly after a moment, his hand dropping to his side when he meets her eyes. He does remember the first few times he slushied her, how he could see the tears in her eyes when he stood in front her to see her reaction. After a while, he quit watching. Her eyes are dry now - have been the whole time - so he thinks that after a while, she probably stopped crying about it altogether.
She swallows thickly. "You should go to class." He blinks at her. "I just need to rinse out my sweater. You should go."
"Rachel."
"It's fine, Noah." She nods her head. "I'll talk to you later."
He could lie to Coach Beiste about why he's late. He has a million excuses filed away for situations like these (well, not exactly like these, but whatever), and since it's her first year, she hasn't already heard any of them. He doesn't even consider lying though, telling her straight off the truth about where he was.
The fact that she doesn't know that he used to be one of the guys who slushied Rachel is probably why she doesn't count him tardy.
*
Puck finds Karofsky in the locker room after school, pulling old, disgusting clothes out of his gym locker because Coach Beiste got on his ass about not taking home the dirty stuff to be washed. It's just a stroke of luck that the only other people in the locker room are Mike Chang and the new kid, Sam whoever. He puts his hand on Karofsky's shoulder and shoves him around until his back hits hard against the bank of lockers.
"The fuck's your problem, Puckerman?"
"Leave Berry alone," he growls, pushing his forearm against Karofsky's chest when the guy tries to move.
"Who?"
"The girl you slushied this morning. Don't pull that shit on her any more, or I'll break your fucking face."
Karofsky scoffs, though his face starts to go a little red when Puck lets his forearm slide up and press against the guy's throat. "Whatever, dude. You're neutered. You'll go back to juvie."
Puck pushes his forearm harder against Karofsky's throat. Maybe it's sick, but he likes the little gurgling noise that it makes. "Don't push me, Karofsky." He pushes away from him, taking a few steps backward toward the door.
"Fine, man," Karofsky says, his voice hoarse. "You want to fuck the freak, you go ahead. Leave me out of it."
His knuckles hurt when they connect with Karofsky's jaw, but it's a good, satisfying sort of hurt, like the way that your arms ache when you finish lifting or how your thighs burn after a run.
He can't take back all the shit that he and everyone else did to Rachel for two years, but he still has the power to make it stop. Puck has a reputation, and if you're good with Puck, you're good with everyone.
It's weird, but it feels good to use what he has to help someone out.
*
He doesn't want to think about how he used to slushie Rachel or why, but it turns out that he can't help himself. No matter what he does to try to distract himself, he starts thinking about it. He eventually gives up on trying and just lets himself feel like shit for being a dick to this girl for what can't have been a good reason. He'd chalk it up to just being a prick - because he was, and still is most of the time, even if he's backed off on a lot of that shit - but he's pretty sure that there was a reason behind this one.
When he finally does remember what got him started tossing slushies in her face, he feels even worse.
He calls her, even though it's nearly 10:30 and they have school tomorrow. Rachel definitely strikes him as an early-to-bed sort of chick. And if his mom knew that he was talking on the phone this late on a school night, she'd be pissed, but whatever.
"Hello?"
He can tell that she was asleep when she answers. Fortunately, he already feels like an asshole, so he can't feel much worse. "I remember why I started tossing slushies at you," he says instead of greeting her like a normal person.
"Oh." She pauses, and he hears something that sounds like a yawn. "And you had to tell me now?"
"Yeah. Sorry." She makes a noncommittal noise. "It's just...it was Quinn."
She takes a breath. "Quinn."
"Look, I don't know what her problem is with you. I don't know what the fuck her problem is in general," he corrects, because he can't figure that out either, and he's definitely tried. "But she said something about wishing that someone would put you in your place, and I was trying to get her attention or whatever, and I'd been a party where some girl threw a slushie with vodka in it on her boyfriend when she found out that he'd been cheating, and since that was funny, I thought Quinn would think it was funny if I did it to you."
He says it all in a rush, then holds his breath while he waits to hear what she has to say. It takes her a second.
"I guess it worked. Quinn thought it was funny, and then she had your baby."
The words sting, but not because they're true. "It didn't work, because she got together with Finn. What happened...that was different," he finishes lamely.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to say to this, Noah," she says after a long moment.
"Nothing, I guess. But I really am sorry that I ever did it."
He meant it when he apologized to her today in the bathroom, but now that he remembers why this all started, it's even more true. He only knew Rachel's name because Quinn told him, and he did this horrible thing to her over and over again to impress Quinn, who, in the grand scheme of things, didn't give a fuck. It's just another example of how she used him, how he let her use him.
It makes him feel like a pussy and a tool all at the same time, which is fucked.
"I forgive you, Noah."
She says the words so quietly that he almost doesn't hear them. "Why?" he asks before he can stop himself.
"Why?" she repeats.
"I was a total asshole to you, and you still agreed to tutor me. You should hate me."
"I think everyone deserves a second chance," she whispers.
*
"What made you think that attempting to steal an ATM was a good idea, Noah?"
It's the first question that Dr. Berry asks at Puck's appointment, and it catches him off guard. Usually he eases in with questions about school or sports or whatever. Puck's pretty sure that this question isn't coming just because football season has ended.
"I didn't." Dr. Berry raises his eyebrows. "I didn't think anything before I did it. I just...did it," Puck finishes lamely.
Dr. Berry looks at him thoughtfully. "What do you think about it now?" He shrugs at Puck's questioning look. "You've had the opportunity to get a little distance, a little perspective. You've suffered the consequences of your actions, and I think you're thoughtful enough, now, to have considered why you did what you did." He tilts his head. "So what do you think now?"
He has thought about it. At juvie, when he wasn't thinking about how much the place sucked, he thought about what landed him there and why he'd been such a dumbass. But he hasn't ever talked about it, even though his mom and his PO have both asked him why. What he says here stays here though, and he hasn't ever felt like Dr. Berry was judging him or thinking about how stupid he was.
Basically, if he's going to talk about this shit, he might as well do it here, right?
Puck takes a deep breath before he opens his mouth. "I think I was just pissed off that everyone was acting like everything was supposed to be the way it was before."
"Before?"
"Before the baby." The words don't hurt the way he expected them to.
"How do you mean?"
"Everyone just pretended like she never happened. Like, we gave her away so she could have a real life instead of being stuck with teenage parents who hated each other, and it was like I was supposed to forget that she ever existed."
Dr. Berry makes a note on his pad. "Did your mother do that?"
Puck shakes his head. His mother is never, ever going to let him forget that he fucked up the way that he did. He knows that she still loves him and she's not like, actively pissed off at him for that particular thing any more, but she's never going to let him forget. She may have let him run around and do basically whatever he wanted before everything happened, but now she's got shit locked down. And more than that, she's not going to let him forget that he's a father who did right by his kid, unlike his own dad.
"Who is everyone, Noah?"
He's been avoiding having this conversation since he first started coming here. He's been avoiding even saying her name. But now that he's said what he has, it feels stupid not to say everything.
"It was mostly Quinn," he admits.
"The mother." Puck nods. "She pretended like it never happened."
"I left her alone all summer," Puck says. "I was still all messed up about everything, so I figured she was, too. And then school started, and she was a cheerleader again, and she was back with Finn, and it was like nothing ever happened."
"Do you want her to talk about it?" Dr. Berry asks.
Puck considers the question. Honestly, if Quinn had come up to him and wanted to talk about the baby every day, that probably would have made him crazy. "I don't know," he finally says. "I didn't want her to pretend like nothing happened at all. And that's exactly what she did. I don't even know how the hell she got Finn to go out with her again, but like, it was all exactly the same as last year. It's messed up."
"How did you get from being upset about Quinn to attaching your mother's car to an ATM and trying to drive away with it?"
Puck snorts. It's kind of funny when you say it that way, though the look on Dr. Berry's face is totally neutral, so maybe it's not funny at all. "I don't know. Don't shrinks usually call stuff like this lashing out?" He shrugs when Dr. Berry quirks an eyebrow. "That's what the guidance counselor said about me flooding the bathrooms in middle school."
Dr. Berry chuckles. "The idea is to figure out why you lashed out. What triggered it." He tilts his head. "Do you remember what happened that day?"
Puck doesn't have to think too hard. "I ran into Quinn. Like, I actually ran into her after practice and almost knocked her down. She didn't say a word. The old Quinn, back before all the stuff happened between us, would have been all mad about it and said something bitchy. But she didn't say anything."
"You wanted some sort of acknowledgement," Dr. Berry offers gently. Puck nods because the dude is totally right. Puck grins when he says, "And so you...lashed out."
Puck thinks, not for the first time, that if he has to talk to a shrink, Dr. Berry isn't a bad guy to deal with.
*
"So are you going to help me study for our history final?" Puck asks Rachel, leaning against the locker next to hers before what he knows is her free period. Sure, he could have brought it up on the phone when he called her last night, but then he wouldn't have gotten to see the little look she's giving him, like she knows that there'll be just as much making out as there will be studying if she agrees.
(They've been talking on the phone some along with their texting, because he's realized that it's a lot better to hear some of the things that she says in her voice than just to read them. She has a good voice, okay? She's kind of fucking adorable and way less annoying than most of the girls who try to talk to him on the phone, though he probably wouldn't just come out and admit that he likes talking to her like that.)
"It's all review, Noah. You've done well enough on your tests that you shouldn't have to study too much for the final," she points out, pushing at the books in her locker without actually moving anything. It's like he's making her nervous.
He likes it.
"Yeah, but I missed stuff when I was at juvie, and all of that is on the final, too," he reminds her. It isn't just a line. Going over all of that with someone who was actually there will be helpful, and Rachel's notes are crazy-detailed to the point that if he could skip class and just read her notes, he would. He wouldn't be missing anything.
"Okay," she agrees, shaking her head when he smirks. "Saturday afternoon, like before?"
He winks at her instead of answering, pushing off the lockers and walking down the hall before she can say anything else.
They haven't been alone together since the last time that she helped him study, which was more than a couple of weeks ago. It's been that long since he's made out with anyone. It would have been unheard of for him a year ago, but he was actually faithful to Quinn the whole time that she was living at his house, and she sure as fuck wasn't letting him touch her. Besides, this flirting thing he has going with Rachel is actually fun. Who knew that you could do things this slowly with someone and have fun instead of just being annoyed?
She's wearing jeans when he opens the front door to let her in on Saturday afternoon, which he decides she needs to do more often as soon as she takes off her coat and he sees her ass. The skirts are awesome, but the way that the denim hugs her curves, well...
It's good, okay?
And listen, he hasn't worked this hard for the last half of the semester to lose it all on the final just because he wasn't around for everything. Sure, this studying thing started as a ploy to spend some time with Rachel - one that worked really well - but if he can ace this final, he'll pull an A in this class. And he wants that A. It's the first time he's cared about his grades for their own sake.
The thing is, after they've studied all the stuff that he missed, they get into the stuff that he studied with her before, the stuff that he still remembers and really just needs to quickly review to be sure that nothing on the final exam surprises him. That's when he starts losing focus.
Rachel is distracting.
She's sitting in his desk chair, facing where he's leaned back against the headboard on his bed, her legs folded up Indian-style and her notebook, perfectly organized and color-coded and highlighted, balanced in her lap. Her feet are bare, her toenails polished dark purple, and she's got her hair pushed over one shoulder as she bows her head over her notebook, the ends of it curling and brushing against her tit.
How is he supposed to give a fuck about Martin Luther when he has Rachel Berry in his bedroom?
"Can we take a break?" he asks abruptly. He just caught sight of the charm on her necklace, hidden just beneath the edge of her blue sweater, and he can tell that it isn't the XO she usually wears.
He needs to know what's on her necklace.
She shoots him a look from under her eyelashes that he thinks is supposed to be a warning, but instead is just fucking hot and makes him want to lay her back on his bed and see how she looks at him when he's got his head between her thighs. "Noah."
"Please?" He grins triumphantly when she sighs, turning to set her notebook carefully on his desk. "C'mere."
He pushes her back against the pillows as soon as she's on the bed, nipping at her lips and making her giggle. He curves his hand around her waist over her sweater and shakes his head. "You're fuckin' cute, you know that?"
She bites the corner of her bottom lip and nods, which just totally proves his point and makes him have to kiss her again. She makes this little sound against his lips when he brings his hand up to her neck, his fingers brushing against her skin while he tries to find the chain of her necklace so he can tug it from beneath her sweater. It distracts him from the task at hand, because now he has to see if she'll make the same noise when he puts his lips on the skin there.
She totally does.
"It's a star," he says when he finally gets around to looking at the necklace. (It takes a while. He thought she made good noises when he kissed her neck, but then his lips brushed against her earlobe, and...well. It turns out that the noises are even better when he focuses his attention there.)
"What?" Her eyes are dark when she blinks up at him, and she shivers when he traces the tip of his finger along the delicate gold chain. "Oh." He kisses her collarbone, and she pushes her hand into the hair at the back of his head. "Oh."
She shifts her hips, and it makes him wish that he was on top of her, between her thighs, so he could press against her and feel the way she moves. Instead, he pushes his hand under her sweater at her side, her skin smooth and hot against his palm.
"Noah, wait," she breathes out when he starts skimming his hand up her ribs. He stops moving his hand, thinking that's what she means, but keeps moving his lips along her jaw until she says it again.
He pulls back a little to look down at her. Her lips are all red, and he has to resist the urge to kiss them again. "What's wrong, baby?"
She takes a deep breath and blinks her eyes. "What are we doing?"
"Uh."
"No, I know what this is," she says, saving him from saying something stupid. "But I mean...what does it mean?"
There it is.
This is what he always dreads when he's hanging out with chicks, the part when they try to make it about something more than just making out and feeling good, wanting him to be their boyfriend or whatever.
(It's weird, but he doesn't feel the urge to kick Rachel off his bed like he has with other girls.)
"I'm not like the other girls," she whispers when he doesn't say anything. "I can't...Do you like me, Noah?"
It's probably the wrong thing to do, but the way that her voice sounds when she asks makes him squeeze her hip and press himself a little closer to her. "Yeah." He meets her eyes and nods his head. "I really do."
"Do you..." She trails off, pressing her lips together. "Do you like anyone else?"
Are you doing this with anyone else? He knows this game, but somehow, it's cute when Rachel does it instead of annoying. She isn't just playing coy; she's actually shy about this.
It feels pretty good to be able to tell her the truth. "No."
"Okay." He watches her eyes when she looks at his lips. "Can you kiss me some more?"
He wraps his arm around her waist and rolls them quickly so she's on top of him. "You kiss me," he tells her when she stops giggling.
Chapter: 3/5
Pairing: Puck/Rachel
Word Count: 6,200
Summary: AU He isn't worried about Rachel talking about him being in therapy at school. Nope, Puck's worried that Rachel might tell her dad what Puck used to do and Dr. Berry will get him sent back to juvie.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Texting with Rachel Berry is kind of a trip.
She spells out everything and always uses punctuation, which he would probably find more weird if he hadn't done quite a bit of texting with Quinn last year, who's totally anti-text speak or whatever. For every one message that Puck sends Rachel though, he gets back two or three just because she can't keep her replies short enough for just one. Texting makes sense for them though, because they don't have any classes together and she, apparently, is busy after school most days with dance classes and voice lessons and whatever else. They don't even have the same lunch period.
Puck's mom still has him basically on lockdown; he has to be home right after football practice even when she can't pick him up herself, and he hasn't even tried to convince her to let him go out like he used to on a weekend. He hasn't really spent much time going to parties in the last year, so it's not like missing them is anything new.
It just means that he has all kinds of time free to text with Rachel, who doesn't even give him attitude about the fact that he can't come to her house or whatever the way Santana does. And the fact that it's Rachel means that he isn't trying to convince her to sext, so they actually have conversations.
Rachel is a girl with a lot to say, and it turns out that she's actually kind of fun to talk to. In between telling him things about herself - and he learns a lot of things about her - she asks him really random questions, like which of his tee shirts is his favorite and how he likes to spend rainy weekend days and whether he prefers curly or straight hair on girls. He has an epiphany when she tells him about having two dads and being born via surrogate; that's why she doesn't look like Dr. Berry. She gets really serious when she starts talking about New York and Broadway, which is the big post-graduation goal, but other than that, she's kind of hilarious and a lot more interesting than most of the girls that he's ever talked to.
And honestly, Puck doesn't put this much effort into getting to know girls that he just wants to bang. The only chick that he really feels like he knows is Santana, and that's the result of knowing her since middle school and spending nearly two of those years railing her pretty regularly. He got to know Quinn more than a little when she was pregnant, but there are things that you learn about a person when you live with them whether you - or they - want to or not. The fact that she majorly resented Puck for everything didn't really make her want to open up or whatever though.
He gets two pages into the assigned chapter of Of Mice and Men when he reaches for his phone and taps out a quick, what are you doing? to Rachel. This book is really depressing, and if he has to read it, he might as well take little breaks to talk to someone who's probably going to say something hilarious. That's why he started texting Rachel in the first place.
He only gets two paragraphs further in the story before his phone rings. "I just painted my nails," Rachel says when he answers. "I'll smudge the polish if I try to text."
He doesn't have anything to say to that, so he asks, "Have you read Of Mice and Men?"
She makes a noise in the affirmative. "It's sad."
"It's boring," Puck corrects, letting the book fall shut and dropping it off the side of the bed. He's read everything up to this point; it won't hurt to read the Spark Notes for this chapter. He reaches for his laptop to pull up the page.
"So you're talking to me to avoid doing your reading assignment?"
"Nah. I'll do it later," he lies, clicking on the right chapter on the website. "What are you doing?"
"Lying on my bed," she answers, filling Puck's head with images of what she might look like lying on her bed. He's never been in her room, but he imagines that her bedspread is purple. "I was watching Funny Face while I painted my nails, but I paused it to call you."
"Is that one of those musicals?"
"It's a musical, yes. It isn't really one of my favorites, but I was in the mood for Audrey Hepburn."
He wants to tell her that it's weird, but he figures it isn't any different than being in a CoD mood instead of a Fallout mood, so whatever.
"Can I ask you a question, Noah?" She uses his name in texts too, but it's different to hear her say it. He usually doesn't like it when people his age call him Noah - he's been Puck for long enough that using his given name is like an insult - but it doesn't bother him when Rachel does it.
"What's up?"
"Why do you talk to me?" His mind goes a little blank at her question, but she keeps talking and saves him from having to respond right away. "I mean, even at the beginning of this school year, you were looking right through me. I just don't understand."
When she puts it like that, he thinks a better question is why she's talking to him. "Things change," he says instead. "I like talking to you."
It isn't a lie. He would rather talk to her than most people.
"I like talking to you, too," she says quietly, almost like she doesn't quite want to admit it. "You're different than I thought you were."
"Yeah?"
He hears her take a little breath on the other end of the line. "Yeah."
He kind of wants to ask her what she thought before, but she starts talking about Fred Astaire before he can, sucking him into this weirdly hilarious conversation about men who date younger women and midlife crises that leads into a discussion of foreign cars that actually doesn't make him want to roll his eyes every three seconds.
He really does like talking to Rachel.
*
"Tell me about your friends, Noah."
Puck gives Dr. Berry a weird look.
"You're a seventeen-year-old guy. You're popular." Dr. Berry shrugs his shoulders. "You never talk about your friends in here."
Rachel flashes through his mind, but Puck pushes it aside. "Being popular doesn't mean having a lot of friends," he says after a second. "Like, there are always people around and everyone knows your business, but that doesn't mean anybody's got your back."
"Does anyone have your back?"
His impulse is to say no, but he takes a second to think about the question. "Mike Chang. He's like, super chill, and we've been friends since middle school. And Santana, when she feels like it."
"Your girlfriend?"
Puck snorts. It isn't deliberate. "Not hardly. We tried dating, but we suck at it. And she's kind of a bitch."
Dr. Berry grins instead of reprimanding him for calling a girl a bitch. Puck tries to watch what he says in front of the dude, but the fact that he doesn't ever make Puck feel like he's done anything wrong makes it really easy to say whatever he wants. Sometimes shit slips.
"What about Finn?"
Puck takes a slow breath. It's the first time that name's come up since they talked about football all those weeks ago. "Finn and I aren't friends any more," he says simply after a moment.
"Because of what happened with his girlfriend?"
"And the fact that she lied to him about being the dad for like, four months." It's stupid, because he should know better by now, but he's surprised that Dr. Berry doesn't really react to this piece of information.
"And you went along with it?" Puck nods. "Who told Finn the truth?"
"Me."
"Why did you wait so long?"
"She wanted Finn to be the father instead of me. He fell for it because he didn't think she would have cheated on him or whatever." Puck tells Dr. Berry the story in as few words as possible. How Finn was stupid enough to believe that he knocked up his girlfriend because he came in the hot tub. How she lived with the Hudsons after her dad threw her out. How Puck got pissed off and totally fucked their friendship when he called Finn out for being a moron and believing her hot tub story and admitted that he was the father one day at basketball practice.
Puck doesn't know why he's talking about this. He doesn't want to. At least, he didn't think that he did. But once he starts, the words just keep falling out of his mouth, and Dr. Berry listens without asking any questions or, really, reacting at all, even though Puck is well aware that this entire story is fucking stupid. Finn was stupid to believe it all, sure, but Puck was a stupid asshole to go along with it, and Quinn was a stupid fucking bitch for doing that to the two of them in the first place.
"What happened to the girl after you told Finn the truth?"
Puck blinks at Dr. Berry when he finally speaks.
"You said she was living with Finn because her parents kicked her out."
Puck realizes that he hasn't said Quinn's name once in all of this. It seems right somehow. "She moved in with us," he answers. "Finn's mom would have let her stay, but I guess she actually does have some shame."
Dr. Berry's mouth twitches, and all at once, Puck is finished with the conversation. It's one thing to talk about how his friendship with Finn ended, but it's another to talk about what it was like to have Quinn living with him, sharing his bed because they didn't have a spare room and his mom figured that she couldn't get more pregnant, spending all this time with this girl who legitimately hated him for ruining her life even though she had her own hand right in the middle of all that.
And talking about Quinn will lead to talking about the baby, which he definitely doesn't want to do.
"Do you think--"
The timer beeps then, cutting off Dr. Berry in mid-sentence and saving Puck, thankfully, from whatever the guy was going to say.
"I guess that's all for today," Dr. Berry says, leaning forward to set his pad on the coffee table when Puck stands up. "I'll see you next week, Noah."
It's weird, probably, the way that Puck feels like he just got out of something when he's walking around the side of the Berry house to his mother's car idling at the curb.
*
Puck isn't even looking for her when he sees it happen.
He's just walking down the hallway, going from English to the locker room to dress out for weights. Rachel's standing in front of the bulletin board outside the auditorium, reading something posted there, and Puck thinks that he might stop and see if he can make her laugh the way she did the last time they talked on the phone, sort of breathless after he said something that was only a little dirty.
He's just a few steps away from her when Karofsky tosses the slushie in her face. The guy doesn't even slow down, tossing the empty cup towards the trash can in the corner when he rounds it. It makes a hollow, plastic sound when it hits the floor instead.
The hallway is quiet for just a second, and then the hum of voices comes back. No one makes any moves toward where Rachel is standing stock still. Her back is to Puck, but he can see the slushie dripping off of her, landing in the orange puddle at her feet.
Rachel flinches when he sets his hand on her back. Her eyes are wide when she looks up at him, sticky liquid dripping off her eyelashes when she blinks rapidly.
He's never stuck around for the aftermath of someone being slushied before. He's never even thought about it, not really. His shoes squeak on the floor when he starts leading Rachel to the bathroom. She freezes right outside the door, not moving even when he pushes it open for her.
"Go away, Noah," she whispers, not meeting his eyes.
He just shakes his head, wrapping his fingers around her upper arm and leading her into the bathroom, not caring that it's the girls' bathroom and there are a pair of Cheerios standing in front of a mirror adjusting their stupid ponytails. He ignores the way that they giggle at his presence before they leave.
He doesn't really know what to do, so he just stands there next to the sink when Rachel reaches for a paper towel and smooths it over her face, removing the bulk of the moisture.
"Are you okay?" he finally asks.
She glances up at him, her fingers going to unbutton the light pink cardigan sweater she's wearing, now stained with large spots of orange syrup. She's wearing a black tank top underneath with skinny little straps and lace at the top, and he can see the black straps of her bra. She drops the sweater in the next sink, then starts pushing at her hair, separating the strands that have slushie in them from the parts that don't. She doesn't say anything until after the warning bell for the next class has rung and Puck just keeps standing beside her, watching her lean over the sink and hold pieces of her hair under the running water.
"What are you still doing here?" she finally asks, reaching back and twisting the elastic on her wrist around her hair until it's gathered at the nape of her neck in a messy knot. She shakes her head a little when he doesn't answer. "Go away, Noah," she repeats quietly, tearing off another paper towel and holding it under the still-running faucet.
He watches her reflection when she starts dabbing at her cheeks with the wet towel. "I'm sorry I ever did this to you." He says it quietly, and she meets his eyes in the mirror. He looks away, grabbing his own paper towel and getting it wet. "No one deserves this," he murmurs, rubbing the towel gently at a sticky spot he can see on her collarbone.
"Why did you?"
He just barely hears the question, she asks it so quietly, but it makes something twist in his stomach. "I can't remember," he answers honestly after a moment, his hand dropping to his side when he meets her eyes. He does remember the first few times he slushied her, how he could see the tears in her eyes when he stood in front her to see her reaction. After a while, he quit watching. Her eyes are dry now - have been the whole time - so he thinks that after a while, she probably stopped crying about it altogether.
She swallows thickly. "You should go to class." He blinks at her. "I just need to rinse out my sweater. You should go."
"Rachel."
"It's fine, Noah." She nods her head. "I'll talk to you later."
He could lie to Coach Beiste about why he's late. He has a million excuses filed away for situations like these (well, not exactly like these, but whatever), and since it's her first year, she hasn't already heard any of them. He doesn't even consider lying though, telling her straight off the truth about where he was.
The fact that she doesn't know that he used to be one of the guys who slushied Rachel is probably why she doesn't count him tardy.
*
Puck finds Karofsky in the locker room after school, pulling old, disgusting clothes out of his gym locker because Coach Beiste got on his ass about not taking home the dirty stuff to be washed. It's just a stroke of luck that the only other people in the locker room are Mike Chang and the new kid, Sam whoever. He puts his hand on Karofsky's shoulder and shoves him around until his back hits hard against the bank of lockers.
"The fuck's your problem, Puckerman?"
"Leave Berry alone," he growls, pushing his forearm against Karofsky's chest when the guy tries to move.
"Who?"
"The girl you slushied this morning. Don't pull that shit on her any more, or I'll break your fucking face."
Karofsky scoffs, though his face starts to go a little red when Puck lets his forearm slide up and press against the guy's throat. "Whatever, dude. You're neutered. You'll go back to juvie."
Puck pushes his forearm harder against Karofsky's throat. Maybe it's sick, but he likes the little gurgling noise that it makes. "Don't push me, Karofsky." He pushes away from him, taking a few steps backward toward the door.
"Fine, man," Karofsky says, his voice hoarse. "You want to fuck the freak, you go ahead. Leave me out of it."
His knuckles hurt when they connect with Karofsky's jaw, but it's a good, satisfying sort of hurt, like the way that your arms ache when you finish lifting or how your thighs burn after a run.
He can't take back all the shit that he and everyone else did to Rachel for two years, but he still has the power to make it stop. Puck has a reputation, and if you're good with Puck, you're good with everyone.
It's weird, but it feels good to use what he has to help someone out.
*
He doesn't want to think about how he used to slushie Rachel or why, but it turns out that he can't help himself. No matter what he does to try to distract himself, he starts thinking about it. He eventually gives up on trying and just lets himself feel like shit for being a dick to this girl for what can't have been a good reason. He'd chalk it up to just being a prick - because he was, and still is most of the time, even if he's backed off on a lot of that shit - but he's pretty sure that there was a reason behind this one.
When he finally does remember what got him started tossing slushies in her face, he feels even worse.
He calls her, even though it's nearly 10:30 and they have school tomorrow. Rachel definitely strikes him as an early-to-bed sort of chick. And if his mom knew that he was talking on the phone this late on a school night, she'd be pissed, but whatever.
"Hello?"
He can tell that she was asleep when she answers. Fortunately, he already feels like an asshole, so he can't feel much worse. "I remember why I started tossing slushies at you," he says instead of greeting her like a normal person.
"Oh." She pauses, and he hears something that sounds like a yawn. "And you had to tell me now?"
"Yeah. Sorry." She makes a noncommittal noise. "It's just...it was Quinn."
She takes a breath. "Quinn."
"Look, I don't know what her problem is with you. I don't know what the fuck her problem is in general," he corrects, because he can't figure that out either, and he's definitely tried. "But she said something about wishing that someone would put you in your place, and I was trying to get her attention or whatever, and I'd been a party where some girl threw a slushie with vodka in it on her boyfriend when she found out that he'd been cheating, and since that was funny, I thought Quinn would think it was funny if I did it to you."
He says it all in a rush, then holds his breath while he waits to hear what she has to say. It takes her a second.
"I guess it worked. Quinn thought it was funny, and then she had your baby."
The words sting, but not because they're true. "It didn't work, because she got together with Finn. What happened...that was different," he finishes lamely.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to say to this, Noah," she says after a long moment.
"Nothing, I guess. But I really am sorry that I ever did it."
He meant it when he apologized to her today in the bathroom, but now that he remembers why this all started, it's even more true. He only knew Rachel's name because Quinn told him, and he did this horrible thing to her over and over again to impress Quinn, who, in the grand scheme of things, didn't give a fuck. It's just another example of how she used him, how he let her use him.
It makes him feel like a pussy and a tool all at the same time, which is fucked.
"I forgive you, Noah."
She says the words so quietly that he almost doesn't hear them. "Why?" he asks before he can stop himself.
"Why?" she repeats.
"I was a total asshole to you, and you still agreed to tutor me. You should hate me."
"I think everyone deserves a second chance," she whispers.
*
"What made you think that attempting to steal an ATM was a good idea, Noah?"
It's the first question that Dr. Berry asks at Puck's appointment, and it catches him off guard. Usually he eases in with questions about school or sports or whatever. Puck's pretty sure that this question isn't coming just because football season has ended.
"I didn't." Dr. Berry raises his eyebrows. "I didn't think anything before I did it. I just...did it," Puck finishes lamely.
Dr. Berry looks at him thoughtfully. "What do you think about it now?" He shrugs at Puck's questioning look. "You've had the opportunity to get a little distance, a little perspective. You've suffered the consequences of your actions, and I think you're thoughtful enough, now, to have considered why you did what you did." He tilts his head. "So what do you think now?"
He has thought about it. At juvie, when he wasn't thinking about how much the place sucked, he thought about what landed him there and why he'd been such a dumbass. But he hasn't ever talked about it, even though his mom and his PO have both asked him why. What he says here stays here though, and he hasn't ever felt like Dr. Berry was judging him or thinking about how stupid he was.
Basically, if he's going to talk about this shit, he might as well do it here, right?
Puck takes a deep breath before he opens his mouth. "I think I was just pissed off that everyone was acting like everything was supposed to be the way it was before."
"Before?"
"Before the baby." The words don't hurt the way he expected them to.
"How do you mean?"
"Everyone just pretended like she never happened. Like, we gave her away so she could have a real life instead of being stuck with teenage parents who hated each other, and it was like I was supposed to forget that she ever existed."
Dr. Berry makes a note on his pad. "Did your mother do that?"
Puck shakes his head. His mother is never, ever going to let him forget that he fucked up the way that he did. He knows that she still loves him and she's not like, actively pissed off at him for that particular thing any more, but she's never going to let him forget. She may have let him run around and do basically whatever he wanted before everything happened, but now she's got shit locked down. And more than that, she's not going to let him forget that he's a father who did right by his kid, unlike his own dad.
"Who is everyone, Noah?"
He's been avoiding having this conversation since he first started coming here. He's been avoiding even saying her name. But now that he's said what he has, it feels stupid not to say everything.
"It was mostly Quinn," he admits.
"The mother." Puck nods. "She pretended like it never happened."
"I left her alone all summer," Puck says. "I was still all messed up about everything, so I figured she was, too. And then school started, and she was a cheerleader again, and she was back with Finn, and it was like nothing ever happened."
"Do you want her to talk about it?" Dr. Berry asks.
Puck considers the question. Honestly, if Quinn had come up to him and wanted to talk about the baby every day, that probably would have made him crazy. "I don't know," he finally says. "I didn't want her to pretend like nothing happened at all. And that's exactly what she did. I don't even know how the hell she got Finn to go out with her again, but like, it was all exactly the same as last year. It's messed up."
"How did you get from being upset about Quinn to attaching your mother's car to an ATM and trying to drive away with it?"
Puck snorts. It's kind of funny when you say it that way, though the look on Dr. Berry's face is totally neutral, so maybe it's not funny at all. "I don't know. Don't shrinks usually call stuff like this lashing out?" He shrugs when Dr. Berry quirks an eyebrow. "That's what the guidance counselor said about me flooding the bathrooms in middle school."
Dr. Berry chuckles. "The idea is to figure out why you lashed out. What triggered it." He tilts his head. "Do you remember what happened that day?"
Puck doesn't have to think too hard. "I ran into Quinn. Like, I actually ran into her after practice and almost knocked her down. She didn't say a word. The old Quinn, back before all the stuff happened between us, would have been all mad about it and said something bitchy. But she didn't say anything."
"You wanted some sort of acknowledgement," Dr. Berry offers gently. Puck nods because the dude is totally right. Puck grins when he says, "And so you...lashed out."
Puck thinks, not for the first time, that if he has to talk to a shrink, Dr. Berry isn't a bad guy to deal with.
*
"So are you going to help me study for our history final?" Puck asks Rachel, leaning against the locker next to hers before what he knows is her free period. Sure, he could have brought it up on the phone when he called her last night, but then he wouldn't have gotten to see the little look she's giving him, like she knows that there'll be just as much making out as there will be studying if she agrees.
(They've been talking on the phone some along with their texting, because he's realized that it's a lot better to hear some of the things that she says in her voice than just to read them. She has a good voice, okay? She's kind of fucking adorable and way less annoying than most of the girls who try to talk to him on the phone, though he probably wouldn't just come out and admit that he likes talking to her like that.)
"It's all review, Noah. You've done well enough on your tests that you shouldn't have to study too much for the final," she points out, pushing at the books in her locker without actually moving anything. It's like he's making her nervous.
He likes it.
"Yeah, but I missed stuff when I was at juvie, and all of that is on the final, too," he reminds her. It isn't just a line. Going over all of that with someone who was actually there will be helpful, and Rachel's notes are crazy-detailed to the point that if he could skip class and just read her notes, he would. He wouldn't be missing anything.
"Okay," she agrees, shaking her head when he smirks. "Saturday afternoon, like before?"
He winks at her instead of answering, pushing off the lockers and walking down the hall before she can say anything else.
They haven't been alone together since the last time that she helped him study, which was more than a couple of weeks ago. It's been that long since he's made out with anyone. It would have been unheard of for him a year ago, but he was actually faithful to Quinn the whole time that she was living at his house, and she sure as fuck wasn't letting him touch her. Besides, this flirting thing he has going with Rachel is actually fun. Who knew that you could do things this slowly with someone and have fun instead of just being annoyed?
She's wearing jeans when he opens the front door to let her in on Saturday afternoon, which he decides she needs to do more often as soon as she takes off her coat and he sees her ass. The skirts are awesome, but the way that the denim hugs her curves, well...
It's good, okay?
And listen, he hasn't worked this hard for the last half of the semester to lose it all on the final just because he wasn't around for everything. Sure, this studying thing started as a ploy to spend some time with Rachel - one that worked really well - but if he can ace this final, he'll pull an A in this class. And he wants that A. It's the first time he's cared about his grades for their own sake.
The thing is, after they've studied all the stuff that he missed, they get into the stuff that he studied with her before, the stuff that he still remembers and really just needs to quickly review to be sure that nothing on the final exam surprises him. That's when he starts losing focus.
Rachel is distracting.
She's sitting in his desk chair, facing where he's leaned back against the headboard on his bed, her legs folded up Indian-style and her notebook, perfectly organized and color-coded and highlighted, balanced in her lap. Her feet are bare, her toenails polished dark purple, and she's got her hair pushed over one shoulder as she bows her head over her notebook, the ends of it curling and brushing against her tit.
How is he supposed to give a fuck about Martin Luther when he has Rachel Berry in his bedroom?
"Can we take a break?" he asks abruptly. He just caught sight of the charm on her necklace, hidden just beneath the edge of her blue sweater, and he can tell that it isn't the XO she usually wears.
He needs to know what's on her necklace.
She shoots him a look from under her eyelashes that he thinks is supposed to be a warning, but instead is just fucking hot and makes him want to lay her back on his bed and see how she looks at him when he's got his head between her thighs. "Noah."
"Please?" He grins triumphantly when she sighs, turning to set her notebook carefully on his desk. "C'mere."
He pushes her back against the pillows as soon as she's on the bed, nipping at her lips and making her giggle. He curves his hand around her waist over her sweater and shakes his head. "You're fuckin' cute, you know that?"
She bites the corner of her bottom lip and nods, which just totally proves his point and makes him have to kiss her again. She makes this little sound against his lips when he brings his hand up to her neck, his fingers brushing against her skin while he tries to find the chain of her necklace so he can tug it from beneath her sweater. It distracts him from the task at hand, because now he has to see if she'll make the same noise when he puts his lips on the skin there.
She totally does.
"It's a star," he says when he finally gets around to looking at the necklace. (It takes a while. He thought she made good noises when he kissed her neck, but then his lips brushed against her earlobe, and...well. It turns out that the noises are even better when he focuses his attention there.)
"What?" Her eyes are dark when she blinks up at him, and she shivers when he traces the tip of his finger along the delicate gold chain. "Oh." He kisses her collarbone, and she pushes her hand into the hair at the back of his head. "Oh."
She shifts her hips, and it makes him wish that he was on top of her, between her thighs, so he could press against her and feel the way she moves. Instead, he pushes his hand under her sweater at her side, her skin smooth and hot against his palm.
"Noah, wait," she breathes out when he starts skimming his hand up her ribs. He stops moving his hand, thinking that's what she means, but keeps moving his lips along her jaw until she says it again.
He pulls back a little to look down at her. Her lips are all red, and he has to resist the urge to kiss them again. "What's wrong, baby?"
She takes a deep breath and blinks her eyes. "What are we doing?"
"Uh."
"No, I know what this is," she says, saving him from saying something stupid. "But I mean...what does it mean?"
There it is.
This is what he always dreads when he's hanging out with chicks, the part when they try to make it about something more than just making out and feeling good, wanting him to be their boyfriend or whatever.
(It's weird, but he doesn't feel the urge to kick Rachel off his bed like he has with other girls.)
"I'm not like the other girls," she whispers when he doesn't say anything. "I can't...Do you like me, Noah?"
It's probably the wrong thing to do, but the way that her voice sounds when she asks makes him squeeze her hip and press himself a little closer to her. "Yeah." He meets her eyes and nods his head. "I really do."
"Do you..." She trails off, pressing her lips together. "Do you like anyone else?"
Are you doing this with anyone else? He knows this game, but somehow, it's cute when Rachel does it instead of annoying. She isn't just playing coy; she's actually shy about this.
It feels pretty good to be able to tell her the truth. "No."
"Okay." He watches her eyes when she looks at his lips. "Can you kiss me some more?"
He wraps his arm around her waist and rolls them quickly so she's on top of him. "You kiss me," he tells her when she stops giggling.