It wasn't like she planned on it.

Puck's everything she shouldn't want: Crass. (This goes against all of her junior debutante training.) Jewish. (She's not supposed to be "yoked together with an unbeliever.") A girl. (Like, just everything about that is a big no.)

But plans are for wusses. That's what Puck says, anyway.

Quinn thinks Puck's a stupid nickname, that Naomi sounds much more lady-like. Then again, Puck isn't very lady-like, at all. (Except in all the right ways that make Quinn's attraction to her so very wrong.)

When she first started dating Finn, she was a little jealous that his best friend was a girl. Then she heard the words that came out of Puck's mouth and realized there wouldn't be any competition from her. (Not for Quinn, anyway.)

"Dude, Santana Lopez bent over in front of me the other day and... let's just say if I hadn't already been going commando, I would have had to chuck those panties because they straight up would've been destroyed."

Quinn's supposed to be saving herself for marriage. To a man. A nice, refined, Christian man. That's what Fabrays do.

Fabrays also drink. And even though it's just a couple of wine coolers, she's feeling a little less rigid and a little more confident in the fact that she kind of really wants to do the thing she's been thinking about nearly half the summer. The thing that's always followed by a wave of guilt and a lengthy prayer.

They're in her room and her parents are gone for the night to some charity fundraiser at the country club.

Puck's hands are all over her, but somehow she manages to stay respectful and keep them limited to semi-neutral areas like Quinn's thigh or waist. She hasn't even made a play for second, yet.

Quinn's thinking about how she hasn't even let Finn get that far and how she wouldn't complain if it happened now. In fact, she wants it to happen now. Which makes her realize this is really, really dangerous.

"I can't do this," she says mid-kiss, gently easing Puck up off of her.

"Yes, you can." But Puck respects the distance and doesn't move back in for another kiss. Instead she reaches for one of the two remaining wine coolers on the nightstand. "Here." She twists the cap and downs at least a third of the drink before saying, "Have another wine cooler."

"I'm president of the Celibacy Club." Quinn shakes her head at the drink offer and Puck just shrugs and sets it back on the nightstand. "I took a vow."

"So did Santana and Brittany, and I did them."

Quinn resists the urge to ask if that occurrence was on one or two separate occasions, because she doesn't really want to know. (Except she does.) "What about Finn? He's your best friend."

Puck rolls her eyes. "Come on. We're in high school. You think either one of us is going to give a damn about Finn in three years?" The look on Quinn's face telegraphs that she knows Puck's right. "Life's just a bunch of experiences, you know? You don't get a medal at the finish line for being good. You just get dead."

Tomorrow, Quinn will hate herself for giving in, but Puck's such a damn good smooth-talker. Plus, there's something about the way she looks at her that just makes Quinn want her. She's not used to that.

"Okay, but," the second the confirmation is out of her mouth, Puck's lips are already on her neck and she almost forgets what she's trying to say. "You can't tell anybody. I can't lose my rep."

Puck pulls back to actually look at her when she promises, "Our secret, baby." Quinn hesitates when she tries to kiss her. "Hey. It's not like I can knock you up, right?" In a rare moment of sincerity, she adds, "This isn't just another hookup for me."

That's apparently exactly what Quinn wants to hear, because they're kissing again. Also, it's not cheating, according to what she's heard Santana tell Brittany, anyway.

She just needs one more thing to validate the experience for herself. "Tell me one more time."

"You're not fat."

For at least an hour, she actually believes it.