Be Free, Be You

I listened very closely while Artie sang the first notes to a Michael Jackson song the kids were learning to Glee Club. I worked to memorize the way his voice went up and down, the beat of the music, how his voice carried along the melody. God, his voice was incredible. And I sounded like a donkey getting hit by a train.

“Okay,” Artie stopped suddenly, reaching over to hit the pause button on his iPod dock, “maybe this will be easier for you and help you learn how to hear and hit notes better. Because the scale really wasn’t working.”

Well, that was putting it lightly. The scale had been an absolutely disaster.

“I hope so,” I muttered, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“You think you know how it goes?” Artie questioned.

I rolled my eyes. “Who hasn’t listened to Michael Jackson since they were in the womb? Let’s just get this over with.”

Artie smirked at me, but he didn’t say anything before turning around and restarting the song.

I waited patiently for the introduction to end, and then I started. “Hey, pretty baby with the high heels on, you give me fever like I’ve never ever known. You’re just a product of loveliness. I love the groove of your walk, your talk, your dress.”

Artie nodded. “Better,” he allowed.

“It’s not better,” I groaned. “This isn’t going to work. Maybe I should just quit Glee Club and let Steph be in there by herself. Everyone will love her. And everyone just thinks I’m weird, anyway.”

“That’s not true,” he told me, shaking his head as he wheeled over to me. “I don’t think you’re weird. Val doesn’t think you’re weird. And, from what I hear, Puck doesn’t really think you’re weird either.”

I almost took the bait and asked him what he heard about how Puck felt, but I bit my tongue, trying to keep my focus on point. “Okay, that’s three.” I sighed. “But it doesn’t matter anyway because I’m going to make a fool out of myself. And people are going to realize that I can’t sing, and they’re going to wonder how I sounded so good at the beginning. And then everyone is going to figure out what happened, and they’re going to hate me, and I’m going to be a friendless loser for the rest of my life.”

Artie cleared his throat. “That’s quite the slippery slope you got there.”

“What?”

He flushed and brushed his hair out of his face. “Logical fallacy. Sorry, I learned it in AP English.”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “Okay, whatever. That’s not the point.”

“The point is that you’re ridiculous,” Artie told me. “That’s not going to happen. We’re going to improve your voice, and it’s going to be fine. Are you going to sound exactly like Valarie? No, probably not. You’re not as much of a natural as her. But it’s possible to train almost any voice to sound good. The training will be a process, but it’s completely doable. You’re going to be okay.”

I let out a long, pathetic-sounding sigh. “If you say so,” I allowed.

“I do. Now stand up, get good singing posture, and we’ll try this again.”

I bit my lip as he rolled back over to the iPod dock, wondering how the hell his reality was going to become actual reality.

***

I pulled away from Puck and ran a hand through my hair, combing down any flyaways or any really obvious knots from his fingers going through it. Puck leaned back in his seat, smirking at me.

“I have no idea how I let you talk me into moving the tutoring from the library to your car,” I laughed, adjusting myself, pulling my shirt down. “I should have known you weren’t really interested in homework.”

“Homework will never interest me, babe. Not as much as making out with you interests me.”

I flushed and bit my lip, wishing that my face didn’t turn beet red whenever I blushed the slightest bit. So embarrassing and obvious. “Oh, does making out with me interest you?”

“Of course it does,” he mumbled, starting to lean forward again.

I let his lips rest on mine for a second, a soft, tender kiss, before pushing him away. “Puck, can we talk for a second?”

“Oh, shit,” he groaned, but I pretended to ignore him.

“What is this, exactly?” I asked. The way his face fell almost made me abandon the subject, but it really was something that I had to know. The guilt of making out with someone without there being any connection between us gnawed on me at night, and I wanted a definitive answer. Although, granted, I probably wouldn’t have even asked if Artie hadn’t brought up the subject while we were working on my singing.

“I don’t get what you mean,” Puck answered, clearly lying. Even he wasn’t that dumb.

“Yes, you do,” I muttered. “What are we? Friends with benefits?”

“Oh, please,” Puck scoffed. “You’ve barely given me any benefits.”

I knew that was supposed to sting, but I didn’t let it, channeling my inner Valarie so I could push to get an answer. “You’re lucky I give you anything at all,” I snapped. “Just spell things out for me.”

Puck grumbled for a second before sighing. “You know...I don’t really have an answer for you,” he said plainly. “Because I thought we were just going to be friends with benefits. You’d tutor me, we’d fool around, we’d have fun. It would have been great. But for some reason, I don’t think that’s going to work out.”

Because I was too pushy, probably. Which was fine. It was better than not sticking up for myself. “And why’s that? Because I demand answers?”

“No,” Puck admitted. “Because I think I actually might like you.”

I felt a fluttering in my stomach as I looked at him, wondering if he was serious or not. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. It sucks, so don’t rub it in. I’ve never really felt like this before. So just...don’t try to pressure me into doing anything, okay?”

I leaned over and kissed him for a second, one hand running through the bottom of his Mohawk. “Deal,” I whispered against his mouth.

“So do you think that you might like me, too?” he asked in a low voice, as if he was afraid someone would overhear him talking to me in a nice way. “Maybe a little bit?”

“We’ll have to see,” I lied, connecting his lips with mine again before he climbed into the passenger’s seat to hover over me, lying down the seat, getting rid of all space between us.

As his hands roamed under my shirt, I felt way better about it, knowing that this could possibly lead to a relationship. Not that it felt so bad, anyway.