Another day, another fic..
YOU KNOW YOU REALLY CARE WHEN YOU HAVE TO TRY AND CONVINCE YOURSELF THAT YOU DON’T.
She’s not sure how much longer she can go on pretending. Because, god, it’s not even like he’s treating her particularly well at the moment, it’s not like over the course of knowing her, he’s ever really treated her particularly well. (She may have forgiven him, but you can never forget the feeling of ice as it drenches through your clothing, into your skin, and takes away your pride, your dignity, and your humility.)
She’s got a million reasons why she shouldn’t be kissing him, shouldn’t be missing the feeling of his body pressed up against hers when he’s gone, And god, she wants her heart to stop skipping a beat every time he sends a wink or a smirk her way as if he has no idea what he does to her as she tries to remember how to breathe.
Santana nudges her pointedly as Rachel is too busy watching Puck to notice that practice is about to start up again around her, and they’re just waiting for her to take her place front and centre. It’s not a new look. Santana’s been trying to get Rachel to admit forever (at least, the last month or so) that there’s more going on between Rachel and Puck than can be seen by everyone around them.
Rachel’s equally determined that there’s nothing at all. They’re members of the same group. They share mutual friends, some sort of attraction, they kiss occasionally, and they attend the same Temple, they dated for a week. That’s where their story starts and ends.
She absolutely does not care about him more than she’s required to, given their past relationship, and the fact that he is a talented musician who is helping her keep Glee Club afloat considering the usually sub-par performances of other members with talents that most certainly do not come close to rivalling their own.
Really. Truly. Honestly.
At least that what she tells herself every night she leaves him or he leaves her and they try to go back to pretend their lips aren’t bruised and their hearts aren’t pounding from a night of making out.
It’s so much easier than the opposite option, which is that every time his lips meet hers and he says something like, “Fuck, B, you’re so fuckin’ hot” and he’s struggling to breathe and she realises that feeling against her chest is the feeling of his heart beating in his chest and she can feel it and it’s most definitely real, she can believe she’s having the same effect on him that he never fails to have on her, and that she’s slowly but surely becoming unable to resist the undeniable charms he has to offer and she’s starting to just… want him.
All the time. And she feels hopelessly ridiculous because she knows how stupid it is to have developed feelings for someone who may not be capable of returning said feelings.
So it’s easier to just… not care about him as more than that member of Glee Club who is handsome and perfectly not leading-man material with all the talents to be leading man material.
She just sort of wants life to go back to the simplicity it had before, before Glee Club became more than just the Rachel Berry show, before the sports elite of McKinley joined and literally turned her life upside down. She knows she only really has herself to blame, and while she loves the success they’ve achieved, she sort of wishes she could go back to life pre-Puck, pre-Finn, when things were less complicated and she didn’t know about broken hearts and unrequited feelings she’s not sure what to do with.
She’s going to live in her pretty land of denial, where she kisses Puck in secret in her bedroom, watches him be gorgeous and talented on the football field, basketball court, and the Glee Club stage, and appreciate his talents, but she won’t take it further. She’s a determined girl, and she’s always been good about fighting like hell to achieve every single goal.
So she’s sure when it comes to not having feelings for Noah Puckerman, she can do it.
Except when he kisses her against a bathroom door downstairs at the Jones’ house, all passion and fire and heat and just… feeling, and she wonders how long she’s going to lie to herself to avoid getting her heart broken or have to admit to feelings she sure as hell doesn’t want to have.
She definitely doesn’t want to be that girl, left alone in a car park, dripping in sticky liquid with a broken heart.
She’s not sure if Noah’s that person anymore, but she never really expected him to be that person who would kiss her against bathroom doors with the rest of their friends only a few rooms away. (She didn’t expect to be that girl he did it with.)
And when they break apart and he leaves the bathroom and they go back to trying not to look at each other as they participate in what can only be considered as the most ridiculous team bonding activities she’s ever seen, and she’s been participating in drama and music camps since she was four years old.
He offers to drive her home later that evening, when their friends are donning their jackets and trying to be discreet as they watch the interaction between them, and she shrugs as she tries not to smile.
She desperately doesn’t want to do something stupid like fall in love with him for all the little things he does for her that always take her by surprise.
An hour later, she’s home and her lips are swollen and her hair is a mess, and she knows there’s no longer a question about it. If he was gone from her life, she’d miss him. She already misses the feeling of him pressed against her, and she only got out of his car five minutes ago.
Santana calls her, breaking her from her thoughts.
“So, are you Puck’s girlfriend yet?” She asks, and Rachel laughs as she shakes her head.
“You know it’s not like that, San. There’s nothing between us.”
“That’s a lie neither of us are believin’, babe. You know you care about him.”
“Maybe.” Rachel’s never been one to concede defeat easily, and that’s one truth she’s not ready to admit to just yet.
“You know you care about someone when you have to try and convince yourself you don’t.” Santana informs her, and god, just once in a while, she wishes she had a best friend who wasn’t like, the know-it-all about everything to do with sex, love, and romance, so that this whole situation would be easier.
“Okay. God, I like him, I care about him, I can’t stop thinking about him, and I really don’t want to feel anything for him because it’s not simple and it’s so far from perfect and I don’t want to fall for someone who isn’t falling for me right back because it’s not supposed to work that way and I’ve been that idiot too many times recently to want to have a repeat.” She feels like she wants to just cry and she’s thirsty and she can’t believe how hard she’s breathing right now from just a confession.
“It’s not like you’re alone. He obviously cares about you. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been so blatant about whatever went on between you two in Mercedes’ guest bathroom, or so genuine about offering you a ride home so no one had to come get you.”
She wants to believe so desperately in Santana’s words. But it’s Puck. And he’s never alluded so much as to caring about her an ounce when he’s not kissing her.
She just wants him to.
“Just tell him, Rach.” Santana says, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world, and Rachel swears that if she wasn’t her best friend, she’d definitely kill her.
She gets off the phone, and thinks about it.
God, she cares about him, and she likes the way he held open her door tonight and walked her to her front door and helped her into her jacket and put his hand behind her head so she didn’t hurt it while they kissed up against the door and she likes the way his body feels up against her, and she just likes him and his talent and his … everything.
She sends him a text. “Thanks for the ride home. Really appreciated! xx”
He replies straight away. “No problem, it was worth my while ;)”
She rolls her eyes. She wonders if that’s why he does all the sweet things he does for her - because he’s getting something out of it. She tries not to be bitter, but she doesn’t want to think of him like that, because it will break her heart, try as she might to fight it.
“So you only do it because you’re getting something from the girl you make out with on a regular basis?” She doesn’t want his answer to hurt her feelings. She’s scared half to death that she’s going to get something she doesn’t want to hear.
Because she really, really does care about him, and the harder she’s tried to fight it, the more obvious it’s become to her. She needs him to be a part of her life in all the right ways. No more making out in their friends’ basements or bathrooms or bedrooms or kitchens as just some random screw from Glee Club. She sort of wants to be everything to him, too.
He calls her, instead, and she’s not sure she’s ready to fight.
“Don’t say shit like that.”
”Is it true?”
“Yes. No. It’s not just about makin’ out with you, as fuckin’ hot as that is. I like hangin’ out or whatever with you.” She rolls her eyes. Seriously, could he be any less verbose? She appreciates the fact that he’s trying, however, to be as honest as he can without -god forbid - handing over his man-card.
“I like hangin’ out or whatever with you, too.” She informs him, and she wants to believe he’s smiling on the other end of the line.
“Then don’t say shit like that, make it out like I’m just in it ‘cause I’m gettin’ some, ‘cause that’s a whole load of bull shit and it pisses me off.”
“I’m sorry.” She is, and she genuinely feels bad, but she’s scared to death about falling for someone who isn’t falling for her right back.
“Just lookin’ after my girl, that’s all.” He says, quietly, and it rings loud over the line.
“What?”
“You know what I fuckin’ said, Rach.”
She’s smiling a Tony award winning smile.
“Thank you.” She says, and he laughs softly, and she loves that laugh, so much.
“So I’m your girl?” She asks, because she wants to hear it again.
“Shut up, you know you are.”
“I care about you, too.” She informs him, and he thanks her too.
She goes to sleep with a boyfriend she cares about and a smile on her face.