She's pretty sure she'll never trust him again. Not in a million years.

And if it means giving up her baby, if it means staying with Finn, then she'll do it. Because... well, why should she expect different? He's Puck. He'd never stop, would he? Even for her. Just keep going and going with the sex and - he just wants more. More of everything, more touching, more sex, more kissing. He's a greedy motherfucker and he won't stop.

So what if the baby comes out with a fucking mohawk? Screw the baby! Mr. Schu' can enjoy the egg-head with fervency. Enjoy the baby, take the baby! Just have her! Because, what's the point? It's not Finn's. If she had it her way, it wouldn't be his, either.

She's probably over-reacting because, really, why should she had expected anything different? It's her own fault for trusting him. Smug bastard. Probably going over and fucking Santana like the day is long.

Well, screw him. She's just fine.

The baby kicks in her stomach, as if to protest. If she could talk, the baby would most likely call Puck an inconsiderate douchebag.

She calls him. Because she's a masochist and, honestly, it's not like she has any other options. Finn's being distant and his I love you's sound weak today. So she calls him. Because she's an idiot. And he's a douchebag.

He doesn't answer. Fuck him.

So she calls him again.

"What?"

His answer is so abrupt and so shocking that she seriously reels a bit and jumps from the phone. And she bites her lip because she doesn't know why she called. And her number is saved so obviously he knows it's her, and he doesn't care, doesn't care that she took time out of her precious, pregnant day to call him. Fuck him. Yeah, fuck him and his sexy hair.

"If I put out for you, would you stop?" she whispers and he sighs. He sighs and she can imagine him blinking lazily at her like a fucking douchebag. God damn him. He deserves to get his insolent head chopped off.

While she's fantasizing about his head in a guillotine, he replies wearily, "Maybe." It's so evasive that she wants to kick him in his balls right then because then he'd stop wanting sex all the time.

"You knocked me up and I'm the one that has to suffer." It's not a question. A statement. She wants to yell at him.

She wants to scream at him.

"Babe... it's not like I planned on it." He says it so tiredly that she wants to hurt him all over again. So back to the guillotine, because his head rolling with blood pooling sounds so awesome right now. Maybe there's a guillotine for one's penis.

She wonders how he can be so stupid, so she blames him for the entire thing, like she should have a long time ago. "Why didn't you use a fucking condom?"

"Why didn't you remind me?" he shoots back.

"I hate you," she whispers, and she doesn't know at the moment if it's true. Because it's hard to hate him when his baby is kicking her stomach. Maybe she'll hate the baby instead. But that's not fair.

He sighs. And she wants to cry.

"If it had been you being straddled by... well, you, you'd forget a condom, too."

And the line goes dead.

Never mind. She's pretty sure that she hates him. Kind of. Maybe.

The baby says no.