She nearly jumps out of her skin when her phone rings on the pillow next to her head, startling her out of her cat nap and making her knock her book to the floor. She had been lying on her bed and reading a book Tina recommended, but she'd gotten so little sleep the night before that she must have dozed off.

"Hello?" she answers, doing the thing with her voice where you pretend you didn't just wake up even though her eyes are still closed.

"So, I was kind of a dick last night."

She recognizes Noah's voice, but she still pulls the phone away from her ear to check the display. She flops back against the pillows with a sigh. "Yes, you were," she agrees tiredly.

"Did I wake you up?"

"I was reading," she answers, and she figures it's only half a lie, if that even matters.

He scoffs, but he doesn't argue. "Anyhow, Sam wanted me to call and apologize or whatever."

"Oh, well, if that's what Sam wanted," she says bitchily. If he's apologizing because Sam wanted him to, he doesn't really need to waste his time. And anyhow, she wasn't entirely surprised by his behavior at the party. She'll never admit that she was hoping that he might have been different this summer than he had in the past, but she definitely wasn't surprised that he isn't.

He swears under his breath. "Come on, Berry. I was drunk, and I didn't really think before I opened my mouth. I didn't mean to piss you off."

She thinks, not for the first time, that Noah doesn't often think before he speaks, and it really isn't fair to blame the alcohol. She also knows that he's going to pretend that the kiss never happened, and she truly doesn't mind. Part of her wishes that it hadn't.

"I'm not angry," she tells him with a sigh. "You're a jerk, but I've come to expect it from you."

"Thanks a lot," he says sarcastically. It makes her smile.

"I'm just being honest, Noah. Nothing to be upset about."

"Shut up."

"More evidence of your jerkiness," she teases, laughing when he huffs. "I'm kidding. We're fine."

It's the truth, even if that's weird. She's not angry, doesn't want to be angry with him even if he deserves it. He's always acted like this towards her, and if he's going to pretend that he didn't kiss her, she'll play along. He just laughs at her quietly, and it's like it he knew that she would forgive him (or whatever). That should probably annoy her, but it doesn't. There have always been things that Noah does that would annoy her if he was anyone else.

"So, you wanna hang out?" he asks, and she's laughing before she can even help herself. So is he, even when he starts talking again. "No, seriously. Chang's having dinner with Tina's parents, and Finn's having Sunday dinner with his grandma or whatever, and I might actually kill my sister if I don't get out of my house."

"Listing all of the other people you'd rather be hanging out with - and the person you're avoiding - really isn't the way to win me over, Noah."

"It's not like that. God, Berry, it's not like you're a last resort or something. We've hung out before. Last summer," he offers.

She tries to ignore the clenching low in her belly at the mention of summer. It's absurd, because she knows that he's referring to parties they both attended and playing music in her room and how she sometimes watched movies at his house with Abby on Saturday afternoons. If he was talking about that night (and God, she hates that she thinks of it as that night), he would have changed his voice, made it low and husky and so incredibly sexy that it's part of the reason she slept with him in the first place. It's the same voice he used when they were in the Hummel kitchen last night.

She orders herself to stop thinking like that.

"What did you have in mind?"

"I'll pick you up in fifteen," he says instead of answering, and he hangs up before she gets a chance to repeat her question.

They wind up in his truck parked at a local drive-in restaurant, sipping milkshakes with the windows rolled down and the radio playing quietly.

"I haven't even had dinner," Rachel tells him after a minute. He looks over at her and smirks. "What?"

"Empty calories before you've had a perfectly balanced vegan meal?" he teases.

"Do you know how hard it is to be vegan when you live in a dorm?" She rolls her eyes. "I would have starved if it wasn't for cereal."

She's slouched a little in the seat, turned towards him slightly with her legs stretched out so her feet are resting near the gearshift. She's wearing a pair of little denim shorts that he remembers from last summer at Brittany's Fourth of July barbecue. "You don't look like a girl who's starving." She lifts her eyebrows, and he shrugs, taking another drink of his shake. "I'm just sayin'. You look good."

"Thanks," she says easily, accepting the compliment the way he knows she thinks she's supposed to.

He doesn't really think it through before he says, "You looked good last night, too."

She gazes at him curiously as she sips her shake. "Thank you," she finally answers.

Part of the reason he expected this whole week to be so hard is because he actually doesn't hate hanging out with Rachel. He knows that behind all of her crazy (and yes, there's definitely an element of actual crazy there), she's just passionate and determined, and when you care about the same things as her, the crazy starts to make a lot more sense. (As if his thought process about this whole thing makes any.) And the thing is, he's always liked her better when he's got her alone. She's more relaxed and talks less, and she was one of the first people to actually listen to anything he had to say without it just being because she was scared of him.

He's a little afraid that if he lets himself remember how much he likes just hanging out with her and then adds in the memory of the way she pushed her hair off her face when she was riding him last summer, he might...fuck. He might decide that he wants to do something really stupid and like, try to date her.

He's totally fucked.

She shifts in her seat, leaving her flip flops in the floorboard and pulling her legs up so she's sitting Indian-style. It isn't so terrible, sitting here with Noah, listening to Johnny Cash with the taste of strawberry milkshake on her lips.

"Do you think you'll be sure soon?"

She looks over at him and blinks, confused.

"Last night, in the kitchen, I asked if-"

"I remember what you asked," she interrupts, catching on quickly. She had a hard time falling asleep because of it. (And she will never, ever tell him that.)

"Right," he says with a smirk. "You said you weren't sure if you'd be down for it. Will you be sure soon?"

Even though the windows are both down and the late-May weather is lovely, it suddenly feels stifling in the cab of the truck. She can feel the flush spreading across her chest under her Oberlin tee shirt. God, she should have known that this would come up sooner than later; she's known him for years, and he has a one-track mind like no one else she's ever met.

Of course, she'd had one night to learn just how well that could pay off for the object of his attentions.

She realizes that he's watching her and forgets to be indignant. "I don't know," she manages, and she's thankful that her voice sounds stronger than her conviction. "It's not really a decision to be undertaken lightly, is it? But I am considering it," she continues quickly, knowing exactly what sort of things might come out of his mouth. And as dangerous as she knows it is, she is considering it.

"Anything I can do to help?"

She shivers, just slightly, and forces herself to keep her breathing even. She almost wishes that she was the sort of girl who just falls into bed with men because it feels good. She knows exactly how good it is with this man.

"I think I can handle myself, thanks." He groans at the implication in her words and turns the key in the ignition. "Where are we going?"

"Fuck if I know." What he does know is that if he doesn't do something, he's going to slide across the bench seat and kiss her, and he knows she'd freak out because there's a minivan full of kids parked across from them. And, you know, because "she isn't sure." He isn't going to kiss her again until she gives him an answer.

They wind up just cruising around town, chatting about school and the wedding until it's dark, and he takes her home because he can't stand being in the confined space with her any more.

Noah is making her crazy.

All right, so maybe that isn't exactly fair since she hasn't seen him since Sunday evening, and she's literally been hiding out for three days and cursing herself for planning a summer with such ample free time. She's gone to her dance classes and voice lesson, spent Tuesday afternoon having a Buffy the Vampire Slayer marathon with Tina (The show is pretty silly, but it's still fun, and their plan is to watch the entire series by summer's end.), and unpacked all of her things from her dorm, and she is officially sick of spending time in her bedroom and her backyard. Problem is, she hasn't figured out what she wants to do about Noah.

That isn't the truth, strictly speaking. She knows what she wants to do with him. Thinking about what she wants to do is the reason her showers have been cooler than usual. (And it really isn't working.) She just hasn't decided if it's a terrible idea or a marvelous one.

They had sex once, and it was incredible. She's dramatic enough to say that he may have ruined her. She had dated a couple of guys during the school year, one, Zack, seriously enough that they slept together. After a few weeks of comparing him to Noah (and feeling like an awful person because of it), she broke it off with some flimsy-but-believable story about focusing on school and not having time for a relationship. She felt bad, because Zack was incredibly sweet and treated her well, but wasn't there something horribly wrong with thinking about one man when another was inside you?

"Earth to Rachel!"

She blinks once and looks at Tina. "What did you say?"

"I said your name three times," Tina says, her expression a combination of confusion and amusement. "What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing," Rachel answers quickly, shifting uncomfortably. She's at the day spa with Tina, Mercedes, Quinn, and Mrs. Fabray for an afternoon of pre-wedding pampering. (All on Mr. Fabray's dime. He has an awful lot of guilt over his behavior regarding Quinn's pregnancy and cheating on his now-ex-wife, and he's throwing enormous amounts of money around trying to asuage that guilt. No one - Quinn least of all - is complaining about reaping the benefits.) Mrs. Fabray is in a private room getting a massage, and Mercedes and Quinn are getting facials and manicures simultaneously while Tina and Rachel sit in fancy massaging pedicure chairs beside one another.

Tina rolls her eyes. "Please, Rachel. You're never thinking about nothing. Don't act like I don't know you."

"Well, nothing important," Rachel amends, sighing quietly when Tina tilts her head. What's the harm, really, in getting an opinion from one of her closest friends? Sure, she might tell Mike later, but Rachel believes he can be discreet. "If I tell you about this, you can't say anything. Do you understand?"

Tina nods adamantly, and Rachel drops her eyes to the massage control panel on the arm of the chair, fiddling with it while she tries to decide the best way to broach the subject. She finally decides that blunt is the way to go.

"I slept with Noah last year, and now I'm trying to decide if I should engage in a physical relationship with him this summer," she says in a rush. When she looks up, her friend is just blinking at her. "Say something!"

"Mike told me he thought something happened, but I didn't believe him," she finally says, shaking her head a little.

She thanks the universe for Mike's discretion. "Well, what should I do?" If she's going to make such a confession, she's going to get an opinion.

Tina's eyes gleam. "Is he as good as he says he is?" she asks, not even bothering to hide her smirk.

"Yes," Rachel answers simply, feeling her cheeks heat up. "Remember when I was dating that guy? Zack?" Tina nods. "You know how I couldn't give you a good reason to break up with him? The real reason was because I couldn't have sex with him without thinking of Noah."

Tina's eyes widen and she blinks twice before bursting out laughing. "That's amazing," she manages after a while. "Oh, Rachel. I'm pretty sure you just made my day, seriously."

"Thanks so much for your sensitivity." She scowls when Tina laughs harder, and there are actually tears in her eyes. "Honestly, what do you think I should do?"

Tina opens her mouth to answer, but stops when a pair of nail techs come over and perch on the little stools at their feet. The four of them make small talk, chatting about the wedding and summer plans, and Rachel pretends like she cares about the insipid conversation.

She has to make a decision about this soon, or she's going to go crazy.

It's difficult to enjoy the rest of the pedicure process when she's desperate to hear what Tina thinks, but she refuses to have such a personal discussion in front of two complete strangers, however nice they are.

She waits until they've shuffled across the room in their flimsy foam flip flops and are sitting with their feet under the dryers. "Please, Tina, tell me what you think I should do." She's practically begging, which she doesn't love, but she's completely out of patience.

Tina turns her upper body so they're facing one another. "Look, you and Puck are friends, right? You're both consenting adults, and you trust each other, so I don't see why you shouldn't. Especially," she adds, "if he's as good as you say."

"What if it interferes with our friendship?" Rachel asks, even though she's smiling.

"So?" Tina shrugs. "You call it off and go back to whatever you were before. Or are now, I guess."

Rachel nods slowly, leaning back in her chair and gazing across the spa. Everything Tina said makes sense, and she doesn't really have a good reason not to engage in this physical relationship with Noah. There are plenty of reasons that she should, starting with the way he kisses that spot beneath her ear and and ending with the fact that no one has ever made her come as hard as he did.

She flinches when Tina says her name, jerking her out of her thoughts again. "Yes?"

"You don't have feelings for Puck, do you? Because in that case..."

"No," she answers firmly. "We're friends. Nothing more."

"Then you should get naked with him as soon as possible," Tina says as if it's the simplest thing in the world.

(Maybe it should be. Maybe it is.)

Puck is not a patient guy. He's also not the douche that he was in high school, so as much as he wants to call Rachel and find out if she's made up her mind yet, he's not going to pressure her. When she's ready to talk about it, she'll find him.

Right?

He hasn't seen or heard from her since Sunday, but he knows he'll see her at the rehearsal dinner tomorrow. She's avoiding him, yeah, but she isn't going to go so far as to do something that might interfere with Quinn's wedding. They may have hated one another at different points in high school, but they're obviously close now since Rachel's playing bridesmaid, and that's a big deal for girls.

He's sitting in the Changs' media room with Sam and Mike, playing Gran Turismo and drinking beer even though it's pretty early in the afternoon. Oh, and he's trying not to think about Rachel fucking Berry. His phone has been basically glued to his hand for the last four days (right now, it's on vibrate in his pocket), and he hasn't taken a shower that could even be called lukewarm all week.

He tosses the controller onto the table with a groan when he crashes out.

"Dude, where's your head?" Sam asks without taking his eyes off the giant flat screen.

And the bullshit question just makes him think about Rachel again. "Fuck off," he answers.

Sam's eyebrows quirk upwards. "Hostility, man. Take it down."

Since he can't think of anything to say that isn't prickish, he takes a drink of beer instead. "Where the fuck's Hudson?"

"His girl drove in this morning," Mike answers. He whoops when he finishes the race ahead of Sam, then drops his controller onto the coffee table. "They're hanging out or whatever."

"So he's railing her."

"Geez, Puck, will you ever not be crude and disgusting?" Tina asks, walking into the room and dropping onto the couch next to Mike.

He's actually cool with Tina, but he still rolls his eyes as he watches her give Mike a chaste kiss. "Probably not."

"Well, at least you're honest."

He knocks back the rest of his beer when he sees her hand resting on Chang's thigh because that, like every other fucking thing, makes him think about Rachel. "I'm going up to get another beer," he announces, standing and going toward the door. He grunts at Sam's request that he bring another down with him and takes the stairs two at a time.

"Jesus fuck," he swears, nearly jumping out of his skin when he closes the refrigerator door and Tina's standing on the other side.

She snags one of the bottles from hand with a smile. "I had an interesting conversation today at the spa," she says, reaching into a drawer for a bottle opener.

"That's a twist-off," he tells her flatly, shaking his head when she shrugs. He twists off his own cap pointedly (she's unimpressed) and takes a long drink. "I don't care what happened at the fucking spa, T."

"Of course you do." She takes a sip from her bottle. "I was talking to Rachel."

She's turned and is on her way down the stairs before he even registers what she said, and he isn't quick enough to catch her before she's back in the media room and on the couch next to Chang. Fuck.

"Quinn said the spa was fun," Sam's saying when Puck gets back to the media room. He glares at Tina because Mike isn't paying attention enough to give him shit about it.

"It was," she agrees, ignoring Puck. "Pampering and girl talk. Rachel and I had a really good conversation. It was a good time." Okay, so maybe she isn't actually ignoring Puck, but she's pretending that she is while she tortures him.

He is not drunk enough to listen to this. Because he isn't drunk at all. "I'm out," he states, sitting his beer on the coffee table. He's glad that this was just the beginning of his second drink, because that means there isn't a problem with him driving home.

"What the hell?" Sam asks, looking up at him.

He shrugs. "It's whatever." It isn't a real answer, but that isn't unusual for him. "I'll see you at the rehearsal tomorrow night." He bumps fists with the guys and avoids looking at Tina.

"Oh, Puck, you should stay," she says, her voice syrupy.

He ignores her, turning deliberately and going up the stairs. He generally thinks Tina's pretty cool; she has this sneaky, wicked sense of humor, and she's never really given the guys shit, even when they were doing really ridiculous things. But right now, he kinda hates her. It's obvious that "spa day" is girl slang for "gossip sesh," and Goth (He still calls her that sometimes, even though her look has totally changed.) thinks it's funny to rub his face in it. What's really annoying about that is the fact that it doesn't give him any insight into what the hell Berry's thinking. Tina could just as easily bust his balls over the fact that Rachel doesn't want anything to do with his ass as she could over the news that he's going to be getting it in on the regular.

Fuck it. He jerks his phone out of his pocket and dials Rachel's number as he climbs in the truck and shoves his keys into the ignition. It rings twice and goes to voicemail, and he curses as he drops the phone on the seat next to him. Having someone hit the ignore button when you call? Yeah, it's annoying, and it makes him consider his options.

He could track her down. Lima's not big, and she's always been predictable. She's at her house or one of the girl's houses, and even if she isn't at one of those places right this second, she will be eventually. He could wait her out, park his truck on her street until she comes home.

Or he could wait. Like, actually wait. In just over twenty-four hours, they'll both be at the rehearsal dinner. She won't be able to run away or lock him out, but he knows he can get her alone for long enough to force her to answer. And it has the added perk of not making him look like a psycho stalker.

So maybe he could be spending his time looking for someone new, but he can admit that Rachel is his top choice. She's hot as fuck, first of all, and there are the superficial benefits like flexibility and bedroom eyes and that tight little body with all that smooth skin. She'd been one of the girls on his list in high school, but she was Finn's girl, and he actually didn't want to fuck things up with glee club and his friend, so he kept his distance. Honestly, he never thought he'd get to check off her name, so he stopped trying, even after she and Hudson called it quits. They were just friends right up until Chang's end of summer party.

They were all drunk, scattered through the Chang house and spilling out into the back yard even though it was still hot as fuck. Puck had just gotten a new beer, condensation forming on the bottle as soon as he stepped back out into the sweltering night. He crossed the patio to where Finn was standing and talking to Rachel. She was perched on the railing, one arm wrapped around a post to keep her from toppling over, and Puck noticed (definitely not for the first time) how hot she looked in that little plaid sundress. She had pulled her hair up in a messy ponytail a while ago, and her cheeks were flushed, though he didn't know if it was from the heat or all the vodka she'd been drinking.

"Noah, tell Finn to go to bed," she pleaded, looping her arm through his to pull him closer and letting go as soon as he complied. It was too hot for touching.

He looked at her like she was crazy. (She was.) "I think he can take care of himself."

"Tha's right," Finn slurred. Puck snickered when he noticed how his friend was swaying on his feet.

"He's drunk," Rachel countered flatly. "And if he doesn't lie down in a bed soon, he's going to wind up passed out on the kitchen floor. And someone will do something horrible to him." She talks even faster when she's been drinking, but Puck was drunk too, so it was funny instead of annoying.

"Like what?"

"Oh, you know," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "They'll draw phalluses on his face with permanent marker or shave his eyebrows or whatever other ridiculous and unfunny thing drunken idiots come up with."

Finn blinked at her slowly. "Why would someone draw phones on me?" he asked, misunderstanding what she'd said.

Rachel had given Puck a pleading look, and he had to admit that she was right. Well, he wouldn't admit it out loud, but he could give her what she wanted. "Dude, go to bed. Nobody's in Mike's sister's room."

"Okay," Finn agreed easily, turning and walking into the house without further argument. Puck shot a wink at Rachel, leaning against the railing next to her.

"Thank you," she said pointedly. She only managed to be quiet for a few moments before she began talking again. "It's unseasonably warm."

"It's fucking hot."

She nudged him with her elbow, shaking her head. "Is that beer cold?" He nodded. "May I have a drink?" He turned to look at her. He'd seen her drink over the last few years, but he'd never once seen her drink beer. "What? I'm thirsty, Noah, that's all."

He handed her the bottle and watched her drink, smirking when her nose wrinkled. "That's hot." She raised her eyebrows at him and took another sip. "You drinking out of a beer bottle. S'hot."

She gave his drink back. "It isn't terrible. I think I could learn to like beer. I mean, really. I learned to like you," she offered, giggling when he looked at her sideways.

"That goes both ways, Crazy."

They'd just sat there, watching one another, and Puck doesn't know who started it, but then they were kissing, and he had turned to face her, standing between her legs with his arm around her waist so she didn't fall backwards off the railing she was perched on. After a while - and he didn't know how long it was - she'd pushed him away a little bit, slipping to her feet and taking his hand to lead him into the house and up the stairs.

Puck pulls into his driveway and orders himself to stop thinking about the past. He remembers that Abby has a softball game tonight when he notices that his mom's car isn't parked in its usual spot. So that's what he'll do. He'll find something to eat, then he'll go to the ball fields and see how long it takes to embarrass his little sister in front of all of her snotty friends.

He'll worry about Rachel tomorrow night.