A/N: I'm still seriously blown away with the response to this story so far. I've been trying to keep up with the personal thank yous and if I have failed to do so, I'm sincerely sorry. I've decided to reward you with a part that… well, really doesn't live up to the M rating. Ha! Also, this was inspired by the song Someday by Cary Brothers. It's an awesome song and if I do say so myself, sets the mood quite nicely so you might want to let it play in the background as you read.

Get It Going

The door was open, Leroy had sent him upstairs, but he still felt a little guilty when he walked in and saw Rachel obviously engrossed in something on her computer. He'd been sending her text messages all afternoon, in another one of those days when it felt like his skin was crawling and just itching for some sort of action. He had to do something. It was the curse of summer and it seemed like since his two weeks at football camp, the few days left until school started were going to be un-fucking-bearable. And when he'd tried to think of someone to pass that time with, she had been the only person that came to mind. It seemed like she had something else going on, and he had been replaced with her MacBook. That was not okay.

He tapped out a knock on the open door and she turned her head toward him.

"Hi, Noah," she said. Her voice didn't sound like there was a problem.

She just didn't answer him then? Like, no fucking reply? Serious? No one just ignored the Puckerone without a problemo. He raised his eyebrows.

"Hi. Whatcha doin?" He asked, trying really hard to keep his voice curious over showing his true annoyance.

She sighed and spun her chair around to look at him. It was one of those chairs where the bottom looked like a spider on wheels but it stayed in one spot and just the pole in the middle rotated. He wondered if maybe he could take it apart and put it back together. It would at least give him something do with his hands. He didn't know why his mom kept taking him to get tested for ADHD. All he needed to do was keep his hands busy.

As his eyes roamed from the spider at the bottom up to the chair, then to the girl sitting on the chair, he had to fight a groan. The idea of keeping his hands busy wasn't the best idea when it was just the two of them, because he had a whole list of ways to do that in his head—and fucking your childhood best friend over that way twice in under a year was probably not cool.

Consequences or some shit. Getting older was a serious drag.

"I'm just trying to figure out if there's anything I still need to do for college," she sighed. "I can't believe it never occurred to me, but I think I'm going to audition for Julliard."

He raised his eyebrows. It was a perfect summer day, and she was inside, staring at her computer and making plans for college that was at least a year and a half away? Fuck that noise.

"No. You're coming with me," he said flatly.

She scowled and looked down at herself. "I'm hardly dressed to leave the house."

He snorted his amusement as his eyes followed her lead and looked down her fine form. One thing he had learned about Rachel Berry that he didn't know before this summer was that the tank tops she wore with her pajamas were almost as small as the skirts she wore to school. And she didn't wear a bra with them, either. And no, he wasn't looking at the way her nipples had tightened under the fabric of the grey shirt with lacy straps when she noticed where his eyes went. Because she always noticed shit like that but only sometimes said anything; today it seemed like he might get a pass because the fabric tented under his gaze. "You're not even dressed to leave the bedroom."

She stood up and he realized her silky shorts were not much bigger than her tank top. The red material settled, resting high up on her thigh. She must've known there was a logical path for his eyes to take because she just folded her arms against his chest as he looked down at her legs.

She raised her eyebrows and waited. She wasn't as uncomfortable under his sweeping glance as she thought she might be. She had been pretty sure a couple of times that he was staring at her, but this was the first time she knew. And this wasn't quite the way she had imagined attention from a boy. This wasn't how she felt when Finn said he loved her.

Ugh. She'd waited three months to even acknowledge all that he said and now she was standing here watching Puck watch her and wonder how, even if she hadn't showered or even bothered to change out of her pajamas, just the way he was looking at her made her feel sexy and alive and…she was messed up and decidedly not used to that feeling. He was right. They needed to get out of the house and his stare just dropped that feeling right into her gut and turned into something solid.

They had slipped up and made out a few weeks ago. Well, okay. It wasn't really slipping up, now was it? There had been one day a little while ago and that had started it all. During one of their Halo tutoring sessions (her dads had run right out and bought her an XBox 360 because they were so thrilled she was showing an interest in something sedate), just about a week after all the stuff with Beth and Shelby had come crashing down around her, they had started making stupid bets. If Puck lasted until an ammunition drop without being killed, Rachel would cut his hair for him. If Rachel lasted until their next mission popped up in the corner of the screen, he would make her popcorn and not throw it down her shirt.

Her dads had left because they had play tickets to a show all the way up in Cleveland at some outdoor theater. The bets got more interesting. The light coming in through the slats of the blinds covering the window behind them changed and they didn't bother to flip the overhead lights on as their video game marathon continued.

Eventually, Rachel's eyes were dry and hurting from the hours of incessant television light in a dark room and she declared herself 'out'. They flipped over to the DVR and, before either of them knew what happened, Puck was breathing on her neck and his gaze wasn't a whole lot different from the one she was seeing now.

That look started a whole bunch of stuff she just wasn't ready to deal with yet. Right. So, 'out of the house' it was.

"I'm going to shower. If you could find a way to entertain yourself that doesn't engage the parent filter on my computer, that would be great," she said with a smirk before she walked, arms still folded across her chest, to her bathroom.

"Do I have to use your computer to entertain myself?" He asked, his voice rising to carry easily to where she was at even as she closed the bathroom door.

"I'm locking the door! Don't even think about it!" She yelled through the four-panel divider. She flipped the water on so she didn't have to hear whatever other garbage came out of his mouth. He was obviously in some sort of a mood, and she was not in one that corresponded well. They needed to get out of the house so they didn't kill each other. Or worse.

She was already undressed and in the shower before she realized she hadn't brought clothes in with her. That was going to be awkward.

After she verbally pushed Puck out of her room long enough to get dressed (and really, finding words that made him move stretched the limits of her vast vocabulary, almost to the point of expletive), she was ready in less than ten minutes. He arched an eyebrow at her as he looked over her attire, but didn't offer a comment other than to say he knew what they were going to do and it would require him driving.

It was only a few minutes later when he swung out to the highway and she looked over at him curiously. Obviously she had expected them to stay, you know, within town limits.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Don't worry, Berry. They'll find the body."

"Yours?" She asked with raised eyebrows.

"Snap," he replied, looking over at him with amusement.

She rolled her eyes and just turned her head to look out the window and watch the scenery that was flying by. It had been unseasonably warm the past couple of weeks, which was saying a lot given that it was August. She had chosen as sparse of clothing as she felt comfortable wearing, but as they hit the open road she was starting to doubt the prudence in that. The sleeveless, white cotton v-neck shirt and the grey jersey skirt hardly seemed adequate for most of the possibilities that were flying through her mind. Where in the world was he taking them?

He turned up the radio, allowing the speakers to flood his truck with the annoying sound of loud rock music. She turned toward him with a grimace, but he didn't even let her complaint come out of her open mouth.

"No," he said flatly. "If you're in my car, you're listening to Stone Temple Pilots." He reached his hand up to turn the music up even louder. She countered by rolling the window down and what—what that supposed to be punishment?

So what if she yanked her hair out of its lazy ponytail and the next thing he knew, he'd gone a solid twenty seconds without his eyes on the road. It didn't escape his knowledge that her knee was bouncing in time with the beat of the song she seemed so bent out of shape about. He made a quick mental note to give her shit about later and then turned to focus on, you know, not fucking killing them out on the 30.

Once he crossed over to the Van Wert/Paulding ramp, she turned toward him, but paused to turn the radio down before she spoke up.

"The civic theater is the only reason I can think of that we'd be going this way," she said firmly. "So what is the plan here?"

"We are not going to the civic theater, as much as I'm sure that ruins your day. The plan is for you to shut your trap for just a few more minutes and then you'll be able to see where we're going."

She swore to herself right then and there that she was not letting Noah Puckerman any further under her skin because he might've been too far in already. And she was not going to give him the satisfaction of saying another word, even if the curiosity was eating a hole through her brain and making her wiggle a little bit in her seat.

"What's your problem? Do you need to take a leak or something?" He flipped a cautious glance over to her.

She didn't respond, just kept her eyes looking at something out the window. He felt the need, the same one he always felt around her, to press it further until she either laughed or exploded. Sometimes he cared which one it was; today wasn't one of those days.

" 'Cause if that's the case, you're just going to have to pop a squat or something."

The noise of her breathing out indicated an explosion.

"No, Noah, I'm not going to 'pop a squat'," she started. "This is completely ridiculous and chances are extremely strong that I'm not even getting out of this truck once we arrive at whatever destination you've decided on without my input."

Yes, she used air quotes. No, she didn't appear to be kidding. He snorted his amusement and shook his head at the same time as he guided the truck over to park on the curb. He unclicked his seatbelt and turned to face her.

"Think back with me for, like, a week or something. We were playing that stupid NBA game and you were talking about how you couldn't shoot a basketball in real life, so why would you be able to do it in 'three dimensional computer animation'?" (He totally used air quotes and watched her set her jaw. He was only kind of making fun of her, too. Totally worth it.) Her arms were still folded tightly against her chest and he was fighting not to look at her boobs as he waited for her to nod, which she did. She was at least looking at him out of the corner of her eye as he continued. "So I'm going to teach you how to shoot a basketball."

She instantly relaxed. "Oh," she said simply. She looked down at herself. "I kind of wish you had said something sooner. I'm hardly dressed appropriately."

"Are you ever?" He asked simply. He was satisfied he wouldn't have to fireman carry her out of the truck at least and he moved to get out. She hurried to do the same and was unsurprised to see him rifling in the bed of the pickup. It looked kind of like a sports store in the toolbox he carried and he quickly produced a basketball lined with alternating sections of red and black rubber.

"So why are we clear in Van Wert?"

He rolled his eyes then looked at her expectantly as he slammed the lid closed on the box and moved around the backside of the truck to join her.

"Well….there may or may not have been an incident at West Lima Elementary meaning I have to stay at least 100 meters away until further notice."

"Are you serious? What did you do?"

"Nothing….at least, nothing anyone can prove." He cleared his throat and gestured to the slightly dilapidated school before them. "Besides, this school is closed down now, so no one would notice or care if we're here."

"And why do you know that there's a vacant elementary school just waiting for some random act of vandalism thirty miles away from your house?"

"Cousins," he said simply. They had been walking slowly toward the edge of the school property as they chatted and he gestured to the padlocked chain link fence. "All right, Berry. Up and over."

She looked to the lock that was already starting to rust over and the back to him. "No."

He let out an exaggerated sigh before he switched the basketball to balance between his wrist and hip. He stuck his free hand out to her, palm up. "Fine; give me a bobby pin, then."

"Why do you know what a bobby pin is?" She demanded.

He gave a huge sigh and shot her the stink eye. Sometimes, swear to J-Man, she was worse than his fucking little sister. "It doesn't matter. Just... do you have one?"

"I'm not giving you one."

"Come on. I'll just... let us in." He looked around.

"No! That's against the law!" She protested loudly, and she started in with the arm waving to punctuate her point.

He kind of wondered why she thought having her whole body involved in her arguments made them stronger. Her big voice normally got her thoughts across way faster than her tiny body.

"Rachel..."

"Noah..."

"Come on," he said, shaking his outstretched hand a little to get her attention back on the fact that he was, you know, waiting.

"NO!" She said firmly, folding her arms again.

He sighed and flipped the basketball up into both his hands. "All right, then up and over."

"Pardon me?"

"Up and over," he said. "Come on. I ain't got all day."

"Okay, no. First of all, that is completely improper grammar. Secondly, this skirt is not conducive to fence climbing."

"The hell it's not."

"NOAH!"

"Come on, just climb the fence. There's nowhere else to go in the middle of stupid Lima in the middle of the sucky summer and you know it just as well as I do."

"We aren't in Lima anymore," she said. She let out a sigh and cast a glance one direction then the other in the basically deserted vicinity. There were houses around, sure, but there were no real signs of life. No kids playing, no traffic. And that could've been because she'd been standing outside for approximately three minutes and she could already feel herself starting to sweat.

"Beside the point," he said. Then, in a movement so quick he barely noticed, she reached out, grabbing the basketball right out of his hands to chuck it over her shoulder and into the street.

He looked a little confused but he could hear a car coming now so he darted away to retrieve the ball. As he did that, she turned and quickly scaled the fence. The ball had gone into the gutter across the street and rolled, so it took him a second to jog back with it. By then, she had climbed the fence entirely and stood on the other side waiting for him.

He just shook his head as she smirked at him. He gave the ball a one-handed toss and she caught it neatly before he scaled the fence with unnervingly practiced skill.

"You could've waited," he said simply as he brushed his hands on his shorts.

"You could've told me what we were doing so I would've worn shorts," she replied. "But I have a feeling either way I would've had to endure your eyes on my behind the whole time."

He snorted. "Yeah, well, I can't help it if it's my favorite thing to look whenever you're around," he said. She narrowed her eyes at him, but didn't reply before she stalked off toward the basketball hoops that were in the opposite corner. He rolled his eyes and followed.

She kind of seemed like she was in a bad fucking mood. That meant this had been an epically bad fucking idea. Now they were thirty miles from home, stranded in the heat, with very little to do for entertainment. Okay…very little she would be willing to do for entertainment. He followed her and…well… who was he kidding? Her ass was one of his favorite places to stare and for good reason, so shut up about it. She had a great ass and the skirts she wore, especially the one she was wearing now, did very little to actually hide that.

Once she reached the basketball court, she turned around and chucked the ball at him almost immediately. He grunted as it made unexpected contact with his stomach—and it had unexpected force behind it. She then gathered her hair back into its former ponytail and looped the holder from her wrist around the bottom part to keep it out of her face.

"So what am I doing here?" She asked.

He tossed the ball back to her. He was unsurprised that she caught it easily. If there was one thing she had proven over time, it's that she was basically physically capable of whatever she tried. It was just a matter of getting her to shut up long enough to actually try something.

"Shoot that," he said simply.

She turned around and threw the basketball almost immediately with no sort of lining up, no sort of control. Unsurprisingly, it bounced off the rim—fast—and started rolling toward the grass off to the side of the set of four basketball hoops. She turned toward him expectantly.

"Well, go get it," he said. She rolled her eyes and took off after the ball, jogging even though she was wearing flip-flops.

She came back and balanced the ball on her hip to wait.

"Okay," he said, holding his hands out for the ball. "Watch me." She tossed the ball to him and he moved to approximately where the foul line would've been at some point on the worn gravel. He looked down to dribble the ball a couple times and then pulled up and arched the ball in a perfect shot.

He turned to look at her. Her expression was unreadable. "Nothin' but net. You think you can do that?" He took two quick steps forward to take the bouncing ball back into his hands.

She shook her head.

He sighed and thought for a second; he probably should've come better prepared, but whatever. "Okay, come here." She moved to stand next to him, and he stooped down to put the ball between his feet, then used his hands on his waist to guide her into a spot about halfway up from the approximate foul line. He used his feet to gently put hers into proper position.

"Why am I starting so close to the basket?"

He sighed. "Because I said so."

"I'm going to need a better reason than that," she responded, still looking up at the net.

"Well, the closer you start the easier it is." He paused and raised an eyebrow. "Kind of like doin' it."

She clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth and shook her head. "That didn't make any sense."

"Anyway, it's easier to tell exactly what your mistake is if you're standing closer, too." His hands were still on her hips. He squatted down a little bit, his hands pressing on her so she followed him.

God, he was so close. He had some kind of a bizarre force field around him. There was no denying his magnetism to the opposite sex, especially if he heard you doubt it out loud because he would try to actually prove it, and she could feel his pull on her in the less than two inches in between them.

She vaguely remembered the celibacy club meeting she had attended, when Quinn had pressed the balloon between each girl and boy and said if it popped the noise would make the angels cry. Well, this whole situation was completely innocent and the balloon would've popped. He probably would've melted it.

It kind of made her want to cry, but she could never be sure if it was the way her heart sped up as soon as she felt his hands on her or if it was because some of the things that came out of his mouth were often downright painful to hear.

"…so that's how all the power in your shot comes from your legs, really."

She nodded even though she'd only half heard him. He bent down to pick the ball up from between his feet, and then he wrapped his arms around to hold it out to her. As she took it, he slipped his fingers up her arms.

"Now, there's a thing for shooting that might make it easier to remember."

She turned her head to the side. Big mistake—he was rightthere. And on her sharp, slightly surprised inhale, she caught the vague smell of him. Even though it was summer and it was hot, the smell wasn't bad.

"A thing?" She asked doubtfully.

"Yeah. BEEF."

"It's called an acronym. But seriously? I'm vegan and you want me to remember beef?" She fell out of form and turned to look at him.

He didn't look particularly amused. "Well, shit Berry, it's not like I mentioned salami. Yet."

She rolled her eyes and stepped back to the stance he'd put her in.

He fought the urge to chuckle. When he actually had said salami, her face had gone from heat-pinked to embarrassed red. She was just so easy to harass. "All right, so BEEF. 'B' is for Balance." They had resumed the slight squat that was a prepared-to-shoot position, just naturally, and he leaned forward so his shoulder pushed against her abruptly. She dug her toes into her flip-flops a little but didn't stumble much. "You've already got that down."

He had moved so close that as she turned her head to say something, their faces were right next to each other. She'd had a much longer retort all worked out, but his nearness caught her off-guard and she only got the one word out.

"Dance."

"Right." His voice was rough, a little lower. He had felt it when she turned her head, and hell if it didn't turn him on just a little. "Well, that was way better than the time I sent Hannah flying at basketball camp."

"Well, it's good to know my balance is better than an eight year old's," she countered. She licked her lips and turned her head back forward before this could get any more ridiculous. She briefly wondered if the heat was getting to her.

He saw her lick her lips. He thought if she did it again, it might kill him (or at least, with as close as they were standing it might make her want to kill him because she would feel something she seemed to find repulsive) so he looked away and quickly made it through Eyes on the rim, Elbow under the ball, and Follow-through.

She proved to be a fairly quick study, and after a few shots at their present distance, and a few more with a couple steps back, they were already up to learning about three-pointers—or as close as he could tell without actual lines on the shitty basketball court.

Her first three-pointer did not go so well and the ball jack-knifed from the back of the rim all the way the hell out onto the lawn. They both kind of watched it in amazement as it caught some major air.

Noah pulled his flat hand to his forehead to shade his eyes as he watched it.

"Well, fuck Berry. The least you could've done is mentioned your repressed rage before you tried to break the basketball hoop."

She gave a little laugh and looked over at him. "I guess I didn't know I had it in me."

He looked over at her, trying to keep his face straight. "The heat must be getting to you. I have a drink in the car. Go grab the ball and I'll meet you back here in a second."

She did not miss that, in addition to the fact that he was obviously sweating and a little flushed from the heat (not that she was faring any better), the tips of his ears turned red at her slightly suggestive comment.

She stood for a rare quiet moment and watched him walking away, thoughtfully. She knew he had been watching her butt the whole time she walked over to the basketball courts in the first place; maybe she should just repay the favor. Maybe he was right—the heat was getting to her.

She watched the red polyester mesh moving around his legs as he walked; there was really no denying that he was well-built. And he probably knew he had a nice butt. She sighed and shook her head, finally turning to trudge toward the faraway spot where the basketball had finally landed in the unruly lawn that had probably been a soccer field once upon a time.

She was headed back, basketball in hand and from the far fence of the property, when she saw Noah passing the basketball courts and stepping onto the grass. She altered her course slightly when she saw him gesture toward the playground equipment. She stopped and raised her hand to shade over her eyes so she could see the spot he was talking about. It was the only spot with any real shade around the schoolyard and she understood what he was getting at so she turned to head that way.

She had taken no more than two steps in the new direction when the sprinklers sputtered to life all around her. She was right in the middle and had actually been standing directly in front of one sprinkler head so she was immediately soaked. She had stopped in surprise but then, realizing what had happened, redoubled her efforts and ran for the protective cover of the playground.

By the time they made it to the playground, right around the same time, they were both soaked and laughing, but it was confused laughter.

"Why the fuck are the sprinklers on in the middle of the day if the school is fucking closed?" Puck asked. Okay, so maybe Rachel was laughing and Puck was angry. That was kind of a change of pace (at least with regards to the former), but it didn't last for too long. As he looked over at her, though, his anger faded into amusement. She had basically just been involved in a one-woman wet t-shirt contest.

They were settling into the covered section, the highest part of the playground that ended in a large, twisted slide that looked like it had once upon a time been a vibrant orange color. Rachel thought better of pulling her knees up to her chest and stretched her legs out, leaving her thighs and below exposed to the sun. Puck opted to fold up so he was completely in the shade, and then he retrieved a bottle of water that was as wet on the outside as it was on the inside. He took one for himself before he closed the cooler.

Rachel had quickly removed the lid from her bottle and was already draining the last of it, leaning back and tipping her head back all at once.

He gulped hard once, on a mouthful of water that he didn't really care if he swallowed. He wasn't sure she was aware just how on-display she was in her current position.

"Damn, Rach…" he breathed, the once-over (or more like fourth-over, but who in the hell was keeping track?) of his eyes more than obvious.

She was just finishing the drink and looked down as she swallowed. She immediately realized exactly what he was looking at and her posture folded.

"Yeah, why are the sprinklers on?" She demanded breathlessly.

She'd heard from everyone but her Daddy, for her whole life, that she needed to relax a little and occasionally learn how to "go with the flow". She sighed and admitted, only to herself, that now might be a good moment to test that particular advice out. After all, there was nothing she could do about the current situation. And the cold water had felt pretty good against her heated skin.

"Probably just to ruin my life," he commented in a dry voice before he shifted a little bit.

And then she realized exactly what was going on when he was looking. She fought the urge to smile.

She shrugged. "And why would my being all wet ruin your life?"

He gave a sharp, dry exhale. It might've been a laugh. She couldn't be sure.

When he spoke, though, his voice was low and intense. "Do not start something you can't finish."

Hers was lower, softer. "Who says I can't finish it?"

It was something he didn't know he'd been waiting for. All the glances, the casual brushes against each other…fuck, even the "accidental" making out over the summer had all been building toward this. There was a reason it was her comfort, her friendship, he had sought. There was a flipside to all the annoyance and the fact that they bugged each other.

They were under each other's skin, in each other's veins. This was real.

And her words turned the key, snapped it into life and sharp, sudden focus.

Before he knew what he was doing, he had flipped over and was laying on top of her. She dropped back, not too fast but caught up in his arms, as his lips landed on hers roughly. She gave as good as she got, her hands sliding under his soaked tank top, peeling the fabric away from his skin just enough that sucked back around her hands, even as his roamed freely over her bare arms.

His knee was balancing him enough that he wasn't entirely crushing her with his weight, but the offset was the hard press of his thigh against her even as she adjusted to grind against it.

"God," he muttered when he felt her damp thighs clench around his own thigh, then her moving against him. He couldn't tell which parts of her were wet because of sprinklers and which were wet because of him.

She lifted her head up as his fingers found the elastic in her hair. He pulled so hard it snapped and her wet hair spilled out onto the brown plastic and he dipped his fingers into it, tangling the strands around his skin even as he tangled his tongue around hers; her chest shuddered slightly as she rubbed her tongue against his.

Rachel, for her part, was unable to actually do anything that she was consciously aware of deciding to do. Her hands traced over the smooth material of his shorts, feeling the clench of his hamstrings and then up over the hard curve of his firm butt.

He pulled back a little to look at her as his hand slipped over her thigh and under her skirt, finally rubbing his finger over the crotch of her panties. He watched her, and she watched him, and it wasn't entirely unlike the hot gaze she had seen all over him up in her room.

If she were being honest with herself, that was how he had been looking at her all summer long. It was how she wanted him to look at her all summer long.

She dropped her hand to the waist band of his shorts and he absolutely froze. After a moment, he pulled back and looked at her face, but she had no idea what this look was. It was totally different from the look he'd been giving her, and totally different from any other look she'd seen.

Her hands on his shorts made him think. It was kind of foreign territory for him to be on the verge of fucking and thinking at the same time. He knew for a fact she hadn't actually done much with St. James; it was just something he could tell, no matter what she said. Santana liked to tease him that he could pick a virgin out of a police lineup, and there was a little bit of truth to that. He knew, regardless of Finn's slightly drunken admission during a fast and furious video gaming marathon, this was probably the furthest she'd ever gone. And for the first time in his life, that stopped him cold.

He pulled all the way back, letting her hands drop away from him as he balanced on the edge of the step they had been sitting on.

"We should go," he said simply.

She frowned as she scrambled to sit up. She glanced down, all her clothing still in its proper position, and she looked up at him as she ran her fingers through her tangled, damp hair.

"Why?" She asked slowly.

He cleared his throat and looked down, fully unable to man up properly and admit his sudden realization out loud—at least not all of it. "I can't fucking do this to Finn. You should…you should deal with that mess first."

"Finn?" She whispered in disbelief. "This is about him? And why are you…"

It hurt that he couldn't just be focused on her. Maybe she was kidding herself and she hadn't seen desire or affection or any sort of genuine caring in that look she had cherished so much. Her heart was pounding as she thought about it, and her stomach turned over. In the same breath, she was not totally prepared to figure out what that meant.

"Why are you thinking about any of that while you're kissing me?" She demanded finally. "Is that what you're thinking about the whole time we're hanging out, too?"

"No." He said sharply. He groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. "Fuck, I can't do this, Rachel. I just…I just can't right now." His voice dropped and she heard two words she never thought she would hear him say. "I'm sorry."

She wanted to yell. She wanted to tell him she didn't understand, but the trouble was that none of that was true. She got it. And she was just as afraid of it as he was. This had been…different. As she had previously thought, the whole summer had lead up to this and it was totally unnerving. She needed more time, and clearly he did, too.

"Maybe someday you'll be able to," she said. "You know, get it out of your system."

He finally made eye contact with her. The hell? Was she saying she felt whatever that was, too? Did she want it? Him?

He just couldn't do it right now.

"For now, maybe you should just take me home," she said quietly.

They looked at each other for a long, long time as their breathing evened out and they came to a silent understanding.

"Maybe," he finally said. But neither of them knew which of those many maybies they were actually talking about. Not yet. It was just too much, too soon.