Noah thinks that this may be the best idea he's ever had in his entire life. After weeks of watching her pine over Finn and their nth breakup, he finally got the balls to ask her out on a date. A proper one. Not one that constituted of them making out on her bed.

But that wasn't really the best idea he'd ever had. It was getting her to take a couple of beers after dinner that made it golden. He just told her that in order to be a good actress she has to experience everything in life.

"How are you going to act as a drunk person onstage when you've never even tasted beer in your life? My sister has more life experiences than you, and she's 9!" he reasoned out, as he brought out the sixer he purchased earlier that night.

And that is how they got to where they are: at the back of his truck, with Rachel twirling around while singing some Broadway show tune he had no interest in learning. Not unless, of course, she stripped or something. Which wasn't far from what she was doing now anyway; with all the twirling she's doing. Her dress was insanely short and…poofy and the skirt was flying up dangerously high from his point of view. He's thisclose to pulling her skirt down just in case some perv was watching them where they were parked. Not that he wasn't enjoying the view; but he's trying to be a gentleman.

Finishing off the song, Rachel stumbles back down and reaches for her fourth (who knew she could glug it down like a sailor?) can of beer. Noah leans his back against the truck's cold metal and watches her. Even now, drunk off her ass, she looks like some kind of goddess or something, with her hair all tousled and shit. It's like she incapable of being unattractive. It kind of irritates him, but not in a completely asshole way.

"You're fucking beautiful."

Oh shit. He hadn't meant to say that out loud.

Rachel turns to him with a look he can't seem to place. She looked genuinely shocked, like nobody ever said that to her (which is totally wrong) and then her eyes softened a little, kind of like how his sister looks at all the little puppies at the park on a Saturday. Seconds later, she pulls a small smile and inches closer to him.

"May I kiss you?" her eyes glassy and her smile bright. She really was beautiful. She wasn't hot or cute or pretty, those descriptions were for teenage girls who pranced around boys to get their attention. Rachel wasn't any of those things, and this makes Noah start to think that he may be in too deep.

He swallows a nervous lump in his throat and croaks, "Yes, please."

She smiles as she crawls the distance between them. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she straddles his lap and waits for him to give some sort of reaction to her brazen (drunken) acts. They don't call it liquid courage for nothing.

"Your lips look like little pillows," she murmured and laughed when he raised his eyebrow in amusement. She leans over from where she sat and pressed her lips to his. One, two, three, and it's over.

"Feels like them, too." She sighed as she leans back, her hands on his chest. He laughs as he places his head back to rest, just watching her with very interested eyes. She smiled, completely oblivious, and bit her lip. He suddenly felt the urge, no, the need to be those teeth that made light indentations onto her lower lip. He remained silent, though. He was having too much fun watching her piss-drunk.

"You know those orthopedic pillows that are supposed to be good for you neck? They're quite firm to the touch but they feel really good," she rambled. Last year, he thought that the way she goes on and on about something so random was excruciatingly annoying. It's strange how he finds it cute now. "Your lips are like orthopedic pillows. But really, really small. And lip shaped."

"My lips are good for your neck?" he teased.

"Mhmm…" she hummed, "and they feel really good."

He stares up at her and says nothing because he's completely at a loss at what to say. She stares right back into his hazel eyes and mimics him. Soon she starts to feel like everything is in slow motion. And that she's starting to feel light headed. And a little numb.

"Oh nooooo. I'm inebriated." Rachel announces to nobody but herself and the boy she's straddling.

"Babe, this is the most badass you've ever been in your life, try not to sound like Hemingway while you're doing it." He said as he was battling an internal debate on whether he should tuck the loose curl that hung by her face. He lost.

"Then how should I say that I'm inebriated? I'm intoxicated?" she asks. Her eyes are blinking really slowly and when she opens them up again she looks like she just woke up. Or that she just had the best sex of her life. Which is totally sexy as hell.

"Well, Berry, you could say you're tanked, smashed, hammered, plastered, wasted…" he was still thinking of all the necessary vocabulary words for a situation such as this when she cuts in.

"Or I could just say that I'm drunk."

Rachel squints. Things are a little too bright right now.

"Yes, baby. You are very, very….very drunk."

Rachel quits trying to sit upright in Noah's lap. She's getting a little dizzy.

"I'm plastered, Noah," she says indulgently as she wraps her arms around him and leans her head on the crook of his neck. Noah just laughs and winds his arm around her waist. Yeah, it was tighter than it should be, but she seemed to like it as much as he did.

"I like it when you call me baby." Rachel whispered, her voice slightly muffled because her lips were moving against his neck. Noah's breath hitched with the contact.

"Yeah?" his voice came out a little weak for his liking. She nods.

Damn this girl and those plump little lips, He thought. And her smooth skin.

"I like it when you call me Noah," he confessed after a moment's hesitation. This is so not badass.

She straightens up and is once again face to face with him. She smiles at him.

"Why?" she asked. She runs her dainty hands on his arms. She just can't stop touching him. And yes, his "guns" really are lovely.

"Dunno…" he shrugs, "it feels different when it comes from you. And you say it really sexy sometimes. Gets my mind going, if you know what I mean." He shoots her a sly grin.

She laughs and gives his arm a playful slap, blushing. "Noaaaaah!"

"Oh yeah. See? Like that. Say it again, baby." He teased, faking a moan which earned him another slap on the arm while she shrieked and laughed at the same time. He really didn't want to stop hearing her laugh so he dug his hands to her sides and tickled her until she was breathless from laughing.

Giggles still bubbling from her chest, she shifts away from his lap and sits next to him. Laying her head on his shoulder she sighs. He asks what that was for.

"Nothing…this is the best date I've ever had," she said, "though I'm quite drunk and have lost all of my inhibition, and may or may not have thoroughly embarrassed myself tonight…I enjoyed it."

He takes it upon himself to stretch out his arm and rest it around her shoulders.

"You're fun, Noah." She said quietly, almost as if she were talking to herself. "I need a little fun in my life."

"Well…I'll be here as long as you want me," he said while his fingers traced little circles on her bare shoulder.

"You promise?" she asked, looking up at his face.

Noah nods, presses a quick kiss to her lips and says, "I promise. It's getting late, babe. I should get you home. Wouldn't want your dads to kill me before I actually start dating you."

He rises from his seat and tugs her up. He helps her down and grabs her hand on their very short walk to the cab of his truck. Sending her a smile as he turned on the engine, his hand reaches to hold hers.

She smiles all the way home.