Author's note: I reworked Chapter 15 slightly, so check it out before you read this. There was something about it that bugging me, and thanks to some great feedback (Thanks In the name of Savage Poets!) I feel a little better about it.

Rachel stared out the window as Puck backed out of the dark corner of the student parking lot. How had she gotten herself into this mess? It was almost eleven o'clock on a Friday night and she was strapped into Noah Puckerman's truck, on her way to a party for the football team. Even she, the consummate optimist, knew this had disaster written all over it.

Turning her head she studied his profile, illuminated by the green glow of the dashboard lights. She considered the possibility that she may have overreacted to his actions, or rather, lack there of, during the game. After all, he had kissed her... twice. In public, no less. Okay, so maybe a dimly lit corner of a nearly empty parking lot wasn't exactly public, but still, it wasn't exactly private either.

Then again, maybe she'd been right to be upset. Eight hours ago he'd barely acknowledged her presence in front of his teammates, and now he was taking her to a party? Things like that only happened in the movies. There was a catch, there had to be. Either that or he had some kind of multiple personality disorder.

"What?"

She realized she'd been staring at him. "Nothing," she said, "just contemplating the state of your mental health."

"Huh?"

"Never mind."

With a sigh, she leaned her head back against the seat. It occurred to her that she wouldn't be half as nervous if it were Finn sitting next to her. He was so sweet and thoughtful. He'd realize that while she could stand on a stage and sing in front of hundreds of people, the idea of going to a party with the so-called McKinley elite terrified her. They'd be laughing over some stupid joke he'd told her, just to keep her mind off her nerves.

She sighed again, Puck was definitely no Finn.

Stopping at a red light, Puck leaned over and cupped her chin with his hand. Turning her face, he caught her mouth in his, sending shivers down her spine.

The car behind them honked to indicate the light had changed, and he pulled away from her. She was glad she was sitting down, because she was fairly certain the lazy smile on his face would have knocked her off feet.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked suddenly.

"Doing what?"

"Taking me to a party. You'll have to agree it's an unlikely turn of events given our previous history of animosity towards one another."

He laughed. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" she replied, puzzled.

"Use ten times more words than you need to."

"Because being articulate is a sign of intelligence. Why do you always try and change the subject when I ask you question that requires an honest response?"

"I do that?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"Yes, you do. You still haven't answered my question."

"What question?"

"Arrgh, you are impossible. Why are you taking me to the party?"

"Why not?"

"Noah Puckerman, that is not an answer."

"It isn't?" he said, pulling the truck over behind a long line of cars parked on the side of a neighborhood street and putting it in park.

Turning toward her, he grinned wickedly.

"Don't even think about kissing me. That's not going to work this..."

She sighed as he leaned into her and stopped her mid sentence, he was doing it again, and he still hadn't answered her.