It took a lot of will power, and two bottles of ginger ale, but she made it to the front door. Sweat coated her face, her hair drenched. Her hand raised and she knocked weakly. The bag she'd warned Tony of, laying rather dirty on the porch behind her, barely hung up on the curl of her fingers.
The throat of her tee drenched with most of the back. And it was rather chilly outside. She hoped feeling sick lit a fire under Puck's ass. She promised no making out, if that got him over there then she'd definitely fight the urge. It was very hard to stand there, and not sink to the ground. Closing her eyes she leaned her forehead heavily against the wood.