'This is exactly how it should be,' Rachel Berry thought as she lifted her hand to her shoulder, where another hand rested comfortably by the crook of her neck, fingers absentmindedly tracing lines up and down her skin. Fingertips briefly meeting, their hands weave into one another. She leaned back into his shoulder, loving the way his scent managed to fill the entire space where they sat side by side, and silently watched the trees and houses blur past her window.
'After everything that happened between us, it all went back to this,' she though leaning closer to him while he pressed a kiss to her temple.
'Things could've have resolved itself better,' she mused, 'and cleaner.'
Her thoughts flew back to the day they first got together, and how wrong it felt to be in his arms. But with him on top of her and his lips on hers, how could she say no? The boy can kiss. His girlfriend would wholeheartedly agree. That is, if she acknowledged her presence in school at all.
Rachel wouldn't mind scratching out all the things that happened in between then and now and start over fresh. No Babygate, or kissing in secret places, or dating and breaking up, or singing to each other, or getting so close to kissing again…these were unnecessary drama that she could've lived without. She smiled to herself, a drama queen wanting nothing to do with drama?
Then there was that nasty confrontation with his girlfriend. If that's really what she was. She didn't care about him enough to be rightfully called one.
"Really? Man Hands? Are you fucking kidding me?" the cheerleader asked, crossing her arms over her chest and staring him down.
"Yeah." He replied nonchalantly, not bothering to move from his seat, nor shift his arm from Rachel's shoulder. "And no."
"It finally happened. You've gone insane. That's the only reason you'd start this shit." The tight ponytail swinging back and forth as she shook her head in disbelief. "And with her!"
Rachel's eyes flew down to the lunch tray set in front of her. She really didn't want to hear how much of a loser the cheerleader (and the rest of the school) thought she was.
"I'm sorry…" Rachel began but was swiftly cut off by the arm slung over her shoulders tightening slightly. She looked up into his eyes and knew that the situation had breached a dangerous zone. She knew there was nothing she could do to stop him from what was about to transpire. Giving a small nod, as if giving him permission to proceed, he finally released her shoulders and stands up to face the cheerleader.
"You do not say sorry to her." He said through gritted teeth, loud enough for the rest of the cafeteria crowd to listen in on the scene that erupted in the middle of the room. He was talking to Rachel, but his eyes trained on the enemy. Their enemy. "And you," he said, "you don't say things like that to her."
"Oh, please. You'll get sick of her and come back to me. This hasn't happened before." She cut in, scoffing at the 'knight in shining armor' act that he was putting on.
"No, I won't."
"You will." She said. Shifting her eyes from his to Rachel's, "you'll see."
"I love her." His voice cut through the chatter that buzzed in the room. Silence.
"Fuck you. You don't love anyone." Her voice wavers.
"I love her." He repeats, eyes bore straight into hers and she knew he was speaking the truth. "Just let it go, Santana."
Santana stares at him in disbelief and doesn't say anything, as if she was waiting for a punch line to end the joke.
"Bullshit," she whispered as she turned and walked away.
A few seconds of silence charged the room with a litany of words dying to get out. No one spoke.
'Goddamit,' he thought as he looked around the cafeteria. 'Stupid gossip hungry fuckers.'
"You hear that, everyone? Noah Puckerman is fucking pussy-whipped by THE Rachel Berry! " Puck shouts, in his best imitation of an announcer's voice. "And if anybody has a problem with that, come see me…or just fuck off."
It was only then that the frozen audience shudder back life and begins whispering to one another.
"Noah…" Rachel started to speak. She had to break up the tension that was building up in the room. Noah turns to her and sends her a little smile.
"C'mon. Let's get out of here." He says as he takes her hand and pulls her out of the lunchroom and away from the prying eyes of their peers.
"You okay?" he whispers into her ear, taking her out of her reverie.
"Yes. I'm alright," she replies, looking up into his hazel eyes. "Today was a long day though."
He chuckles. She wishes she could record it in her phone so she could listen to it all day.
"Don't worry about it. This is high school. People have short-term memory when it comes to these things." He says, completely sure of himself. Rachel thinks people underestimate Noah's mental capacity; he's smarter than he lets on.
Rachel looks at him for a time, brows furrowed, as if deciding whether she'd live or die before whispering an "okay." Noah lightly tugs at her curls to tease her and she giggles before she settles back into his arm. Noah wishes he had a camera. That smile was iridescent. (Yeah, he reads. Suck on that, dumb jocks.)
His truck comes into a stop in front of her house. He turns off the engine and she begins to arrange her things. He turns to watch her, looking at her small hands moving about so quickly. She looks up to find him with a look that she can't seem to read.
"What?" she asks, an uneasy giggle escaping her lips.
He laughs and says "nothing" but continues to look at her in that funny way. A grin creeps into his face in a matter of seconds.
"Well…do you want to come in?" she asks, starting to feel a little uncomfortable with his gawking.
"Nah. I'll call you later." He replied with a shake of his head.
"Okay." She said before shifting out of her seat and getting out of the car. Rachel pushes his truck's door close and turn to him. "Thank you for the ride, Noah."
Through the window, Noah shrugs and starts to turn on the ignition. Visions of what transpired going through her head, she suddenly blurts out what she's been meaning to say for the past few weeks.
"I love you, too."
Noah turns to her and flashes her a smile. Her favorite one. "Of course you do," he says as if she was crazy and drives away.
'I was wrong,' she thought while standing in her front porch watching his truck turn a corner, 'things worked out perfectly.'