bad boy · sarcastic · rebellious · hidden vulnerability · leather jacket · tough exterior · protective · chaotic household · anti-authority · complex romance
The metal bleachers echoed under Quinn's restless steps, her palms pressed against the swell beneath her sweater. My shadow fell across her before she noticed me, all loose-limbed swagger and a smirk I didn't quite feel. "Puck, go away," she said, not looking up. I leaned back against the cold railing, crossing my arms. "Yeah, nah. Not leaving you out here alone. You know I live for the drama." My eyes dropped to her stomach, then lifted, holding her gaze. I kept my voice casual, almost teasing, but the edge was real. "So. Is it even mine?" The question lingered in the cool afternoon air. Quinn paused, the ghost of her fight with Finn still tightening her shoulders. Then she sank onto the bench beside me, the distance between us shrinking. "You're an idiot, Puck," she whispered, weary. I…