AN: Sorry for the delay. This is my first ever fan-fic, so I'm still getting used to the concept, but thank you all so much for your comments, and please let me know what you think and if you have any thoughts for where this should go. I have some ideas but could use some inspiration! Thanks!

Rachel tried to focus on the way Noah's lips felt against hers, and not to be distracted by the way his hand was moving over her waist to the small of her back, and then slipped lower. Rachel pulled away shyly and reached her hand down to grasp Noah's wandering one. Noah smirked at her, a little sheepishly. "I guess old habits die hard," he murmured and leaned forward to capture her lips again, but Rachel restrained him to a simple peck, before pulling away and leading him by his hand toward the warehouse-like factory building in front of them, all prior fear she felt being supplanted by a need for distraction from the sudden intimacy. "What did you want to show me here?" she asked coyly and Noah, fully conscious of Rachel's attempt to distance them, followed willingly. "You're gonna love this . . ." Noah said, and took charge, leading her around the side of the building to a small rusted door, which he opened without effort, and stepped through pulling Rachel behind him in the dark and cool air. Rachel's eyes adjusted quickly, but she couldn't help moving closer to Noah's body, as if his proximity and warmth would offer her some protection from the unknown atmosphere. She gasped in and breathed a sigh of delight. They were standing in a large room, surrounded by a few abandoned machines covered in years of dust and decay, but with a open space in the middle of the floor. Over the open space, both the second floor and the ceiling of the building had fallen in on themselves, letting in a single ray from the sun, and projecting a perfect spotlight into the middle of the floor. Rachel eyed the crumbling ceiling with awe, but warily. "What is the place?" she asked, surprised at how her voice naturally came out in a whisper to accommodate the stillness and silence and how nonetheless it pierced the air. Noah answered in his normal tone, which resonated throughout the room, "It's the old tobacco factory," he hesitated, "My dad used to work here when I was a kid, but he lost his job when the place shut down. He used to bring me here, after it closed- he pried the padlock off with a crowbar the first time." Rachel snuck a glance at Noah's face, but he seemed caught in the memory. He rarely spoke of his father. "At first he came here to steal stuff, but after a while there wasn't much left. Then he'd come here to drink and break shit." He nodded almost imperceptibly toward a wall of factory windows which had each been shattered. Rachel cringed- she could imagine a young, scared Noah watching his father, drunk, as he exhausted his rage and frustration on the dirty glass, until he collapsed covered in blood and sweat. She didn't know that Noah had watched with relief, that his father's rage had an outlet other than his mother and himself. Rachel squeezed his hand in silent support, and Noah seemed to remember her presence as he brought his eyes to hers, and then lowered them to the floor, where his sneaker scratched a pattern in the dust. "Anyway, I come here sometimes." Rachel wasn't sure what to say, but ventured, "why did you bring me here?" Noah smiled, and stepped toward the light in the middle of the room, pulling Rachel behind him. Rachel quivered, "Wait!" her voiced echoed slightly, "is it . . ." she looked up at the ceiling tiles hanging precariously over their heads, "is it safe?" Noah rolled his eyes, "C'mon Rach, you'll love this," and pulled her arm again, and she relented. When he had her centered in the room, centered in the light, he stood directly behind her. She felt his body pressed against her back and his hands settled gently on her waist. She felt her adrenaline quicken as he leaned down and placed his head next to hers, his cheek brushing against hers sending chills to each extremity, and his whispered throatily in her ear, "sing something." Rachel pulled her head away so she could turn and see his eyes, "What?" she asked. Noah pressed his smiling lips to hers for a brief, sweet moment, and then repeated, "Trust me . . .just sing." Rachel felt his hands leave her waist and rush of air as he moved away from her body, leaving her alone in the sun's natural spotlight. She closed her eyes and took a breath, but naturally relaxed. She knew what to do in a spotlight. A spotlight was where she belonged. And it was easier for her to fall into that comfort when Noah wasn't so close, distracting her and causing her nerves to jangle. She paused for a moment and then after a breathe, let her voice carry. She didn't even stop to think about the song, it just presented itself to her lips naturally.

I'd like to swim in a clear blue stream
Where the water is icy cold.
Then go to town
In a golden gown,
And have my fortune told.
Just once,
Just once,
Just once before I'm old.

Rachel softened her tone. The acoustics were amazing and her voice sounded fuller, sweeter to her ears than it ever had before.

I'd like to be not evil,
But a little worldly wise.
To be the kind of girl designed
To be kissed upon the eyes.

She was so caught in the performance, the emotion, and her own desire that she forgot Noah was watching her from the shadows. She twirled and swayed in the spotlight. Noah watched her captivated. He knew her stage face, and that she looked most natural when she was on stage, performing, but had never seen her look so free. None of her usual determination for performance came through- this was a prayer for herself.

I'd like to dance till two o'clock,
Or sometimes dance till dawn,
Or if the band could stand it,
Just go on and on and on
Just once,
Just once,
Before the chance is gone!

I'd like to waste a week or two
And never do a chore.
To wear my hair unfastened
So it billows to the floor.

To do the things I've dreamed about
But never done before!
Perhaps I'm bad, or wild, or mad,
With lots of grief in store,
But I want much more than keeping house!
Much more!
Much more!
Much more!

Rachel still hadn't opened her eyes, as the final note crescendoed and the sound finally died. She was so completely unconscious of Noah's presence that she gasped and her eyelashes fluttered, when she felt his lips press down on the lids of her eyes. "The kind of girl to be kissed on the eyes?" he asked, "What song was that?" Rachel opened her eyes, and they glistened with brilliance. "Much more, from the Fantasticks." Noah laughed, "Only you," he said, "would choose a song from a musical." Rachel felt the involuntary blush creep up her neck, "Well, what do you sing?" she asked, as Noah's hands, which had settled on her shoulders rolled down over her arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "Someday" Noah promised, "I'll tell you," and he leaned down to kiss her again, chastely this time, trying hard to be aware of her boundaries and that having left herself be so free, she was now embarrassed and shy again. "C'mon" Noah said, before Rachel could push him to reveal another personal secret. He pulled her hand again, away out of the spotlight and toward the exit. Rachel, once so unwilling to enter, was now reluctant to leave. This place seemed almost a metaphor for Noah himself, flawed, abandoned and unnoticed for what it was, but with the too often the unrealized potential for beauty. She was certain that Noah had never brought another woman here. It made him far too vulnerable. She followed him to the exit nonetheless, finding herself drawn to him with an irresistible magnetism, and couldn't help but wonder, if in the end, she was one made more vulnerable every time he shared something with her.

Chapter 6