I Don't Have A Choice (But I Still Choose You) [2/3]
Originally posted by smc_27 at I Don't Have A Choice (But I Still Choose You) [2/3]
Title: I Don't Have A Choice (But I Still Choose You) [2/3]
Character: Puck/Rachel
Summary: Quinn and Finn are getting married. Rachel hires male escort Puck to be her date. Prompted by dangerspace
Word Count: 25,500 (total)
Disclaimer: Don't own.
She wakes up with a pounding head and a rolling stomach and a man next to her, shirtless and reading The New York Times. She groans, and without looking at her, he points over to the table on her side of the bed, and there's a little tray with a Starbucks cup and a bottle of Tylenol, and a plain croissant next to a bowl of fresh fruit and bottle of Gatorade.
She mumbles, "Best fake boyfriend ever," and sort of ignores the way he laughs.
"Mets won. Fuck." She's just finished her first sip of coffee, and now she's dropping pills into her hand and prepping to chase with this amazing dark roast.
"You care about the Mets?"
"No, I hate the Mets." She laughs a bit and swallows down the pills, then reaches for a grape and the croissant. She's not even sitting up, only as much as she has to in order not to spill coffee on herself. "I just want them to lose every game."
She talks with her mouth full for the first time in…she can't even remember. "If you weren't a Yankees fan this wouldn't have worked at all."
He looks at her with his brow raised. "That right?"
"When I was 13 I thought I was going to marry Derek Jeter."
"How's that working out for you?"
She shrugs her shoulder and takes another bite. "He lives a few blocks from me. We have the same dry cleaner." He turns towards her a little more and looks at her like she's crazy. She just laughs. "You might not believe it, but I'm kind of a big deal."
He rolls his eyes, then, and turns to the business section. "I'm not completely uncultured. I've seen your shows."
Oh.
"You have?"
He nods a little, keeps looking at the newspaper. "Not many people wanna go to the theatre alone, you know?" he says, and oh god, she can't believe… "I liked you best in Chicago, personally."
"You…"
"Or that play with Bradley Cooper."
She doesn't mean to laugh, but it happens, and she leans up on her elbow so she can look at him better. "Have you seen everything I've been in?"
He says, "Probably not," and things feel a little more balanced again, because he doesn't know what all she's been in, and that at least feels normal. "What do we have to do today?"
"Mmm." There goes that eyebrow of his again. She didn't mean to moan, it's just that she's hungover and the answer to that question is the most appealing thing in the world to her. "Nothing."
"So you can just stay there like that," he says, grinning at her. "Looking fucking adorable, and…" And what, she wonders, but then he reaches over and runs his pinky finger along the top of her camisole, where the lace ends and her skin begins. "Nope. Wrong word."
She reaches blindly for her coffee again, grabs it and brings it to her lips as she watches him. She believes he has as much interest in the business section of that newspaper as she does in anything that isn't him right now.
"You know, all this really makes me wonder what you're like with a woman you actually want to date."
He just laughs and goes back to the newspaper.
She finishes her breakfast and closes her eyes again, but only falls asleep when he gets comfortable next to her, drapes his arm over her waist and pulls her back against him.
… … …
"I read about this place," he tells her when she steps out of the bathroom. It's nearing 4:30 in the afternoon and she's only just gotten out of bed and showered. She slept off the hangover and feels a million times better now. She knows he didn't stay with her the entire time, nor did she expect or need him to. She couldn't tell you what he did while she slept it off, but it doesn't matter, she supposes.
She hopes 'this place' isn't anything that requires her to change, because her jeans and white tee shirt are all she can handle right now.
They end up walking to this place that - according to the sign in the window and the article Noah read - has the best burgers in Columbus. Apparently it was on Man vs. Food, which, though she hates to admit it, is a show she actually enjoys. It's a little gross to watch that guy stuffing his face, but he's funny and he has a genuine passion for food. She's gone to a couple of the places he's showcased, and she doesn't mind trying another.
She hopes there's a vegetarian option.
"I looked online," Noah tells her, and she smiles at him a bit. "You're safe."
She tries to convince herself he'd be this thoughtful even if he wasn't being paid.
He slings his arm around her shoulders as they walk, and it's strange, probably, but she wonders why he's bothering. There's no one around to pretend for, or try to impress. And she'd question him out loud, but she quite likes the way it feels, and the way she believes they look together. It's really not a big deal and it doesn't seem to be putting him out at all, either, so she just lets it happen and slides her arm around his waist when it feels natural to do it.
She honestly wishes she could meet a man with etiquette as good as Noah's. She has no doubt in her mind that this is all learned and not all of it comes naturally to him. His agency is incredibly specialized and high class, so she wouldn't be surprised in the slightest to learn that he went to some kind of…of escort's finishing school, or whatever one might call it. It's not as though she's complaining, it's just a thought she has. He just makes it all look natural, even if it isn't, and she's intrigued or curious, more than anything, about what he does and how he makes his living. She'll survive without the details, of course, but it's just that he looks as though he's perfectly content with his life as it is, and so she wants to know how his situation differs from the generally believed notions of what an escort is and how one might act.
"May I ask you a question?" she asks when his mouth is full, and he nods without missing a beat. "You absolutely reserve the right to ignore it if…"
"What?"
"How…" She glances around and then leans forward a bit. "How much money do you make?" Noah just laughs. "I can do basic math, obviously, and I know what I'm…But I don't know the variables, and…"
"I make enough," he tells her, chuckling. That's not a good enough answer. "Enough that I could take the rest of the year off and not have to worry about a thing." She feels her eyes go wide. "This is the first job I've taken in a few weeks."
"So you just…work when you feel like it," she states, and he shrugs one shoulder and drags some fries through the ketchup on his plate. "That's incredible."
"I'm good at what I do."
"And you've…I mean, how many…"
He rolls his eyes. Probably because she can't even verbalize it and he knows what she's going to ask.
"Women are…If you're asking about sex, most of the time it's not even about that."
"Most of the time," she says under her breath. God, he's an escort. It shouldn't bother her that he's been with however many women he's been with. "What is it about?"
He meets her eyes across the table, says, rather pointedly, "What's it about for you?" Oh god. Point taken. "And look, it's not…Men, when they hire, they're doing it for the same reasons. Usually."
"I don't…What do you mean?"
"Same issues. Same loneliness. They just have different ways of dealing with it."
Rachel sits back again. "You mean sex."
"Sometimes," he answers. "And, fuck it, sometimes women want that, too. I dunno. What are you asking me?"
She laughs, then he does, and the waitress comes to refill their drinks. "I don't know. Nothing. It's silly."
"If you wanna know, it's not silly," he tells her, and swipes his napkin across his face. "That's the thing with you, you know."
"What?"
"You seem to make all these apologies when you want something, or feel something." She must give him a strange look. "You don't just go for it."
Rachel laughs too loudly, probably, and shakes her head. "For the first time all day, just now, I was reminded that you really don't know me."
He doesn't say anything about that. He can't argue and they both know it.
(Later, when they're walking past a shop and he points out a dress and says, "That looks like something you'd like," and she falls completely in love with it and buys it without a second thought, he says, "I know you a little," and she's not surprised whatsoever when his hand caresses her ass as she slips her Visa back into her wallet.)
… … …
"I never got the point of a rehearsal dinner."
"People get nervous," she says absently, smudging her eyeliner with her pinky finger. Noah's half dressed. She isn't sure if he got bored or tired halfway through, or what, but he's lying on the bed with his pants on, but unzipped, and his shirt on, but unbuttoned. "This isn't an event you want to forget the choreography for."
"There shouldn't be choreography. It should be easy. Person A, Person B, I do. Done." Rachel laughs and turns to him, the slip she's wearing shifting with her as she moves. "It's not that hard."
"You don't know Finn. He's…It's not that he's bad under pressure. He's great under pressure, actually. But it's like…I'm trying to think of a sports analogy." She taps her eyeliner pencil on her chin as she considers it. Noah's smirk isn't helping. "Last offensive down of the Superbowl and he's the quarterback. Down four points and it all rides on him."
"That's…"
"That's how he is with pressure."
"So what you're saying is he shits his pants until the ball's in his hand." Rachel laughs again, nods her head. "And the ball, in this case, is like, the vows."
"Sure." She reaches for her mascara.
"Why are we even going? You're not in the wedding party." She lifts her brow. "I know some stuff about weddings."
"Technically we're just going for dinner. Sort of witnessing the rehearsal."
"Is the dinner gonna be good, at least?"
Rachel laughs and looks at him again. He seems to be asking a lot of questions for a guy who's being paid to be certain places at certain times without complaining.
"We're going to one of the nicest restaurants in Ohio after we leave the country club."
"And we don't have to pay," he states, like he's looking for clarification of some kind.
Rachel rolls her eyes and swipes on her mascara. "From what you've told me, it wouldn't hurt your bank account much if we did."
He's grinning when she glances at him. "It's the principle of the thing."
She can't remember the last time someone made her laugh as much as he does.
She knows how good she looks in her dress. It's this royal blue one shoulder thing she's never worn before and bought on a whim. She lives in New York City and makes enough money that she can just walk into some designer shop off the street and pick out something she likes. She's worked hard to get to this point and she won't apologize for it or hide it just because the people she's spending time with can't do the same. She's not showing off, either.
"I like that one," he says, eyes lingering on her legs as she steps out of the bedroom. He's at least migrated to the sofa and also finished putting his clothes on.
Rachel smiles at him, pushes her hair off her shoulder as he looks the entire length of her body. Slowly. "Haven't you liked them all?"
He just grins at her like she's onto him, or something like that, and his tongue wets his bottom lip.
Well.
"Are you ready?" she asks. Why he chuckles as he gets up, she really has no idea.
He says he wouldn't mind drinking, and she can't really blame him, so they take a cab. It's the responsible thing to do. There's just no way she'll get out of this evening without people 'forcing' her to have more than one drink. There will be toasts, and table wine, and it would just be stupid for either she or Noah to believe they'll be sober enough to drive later.
"Why do you look nervous?"
"I'm not nervous," she answers. Probably too quickly.
He just sort of gives her this half grin and raises his brow as they pull up the driveway to the country club. "Convincing."
She doesn't want to talk about it, and it's silly anyway and she'll get over it. "Quinn's mother doesn't like me, and apparently told Quinn not to invite me. I guess she just assumed I'd still have feelings for Finn."
"Do you?" The look she gives him is probably murderous. That's what she's going for, anyway. He holds up his hands. "It was just a question."
"I'm also a little worried that everyone's going to be busy and I'll be left alone and no one will talk to me."
He's absolutely sincere when he shrugs one shoulder and says, "I'll talk to you."
He reaches for her hand to help her out of the cab after she's paid the driver, and she smoothes imaginary wrinkles out of the fabric before looping her arm through his and heading for the door. This place is incredibly pretentious, not that she expected anything less, and the doorman seems to judge both she and Noah as they walk past him. She doesn't care. After tomorrow she never has to come back here again. And not to sound like a bitch, but she just can't bring herself to think twice about what some 20 year old kid thinks of her.
There's a sign directing them to where the rehearsal is taking place, and when they walk out the back of the building and onto the patio, Rachel can't stop herself.
"Oh, wow," she breathes, and god, it's really beautiful. The sun's just beginning to set, and there are flowers lining the steps that lead down onto the lawn. Chairs are set up for tomorrow's guests, and there's a huge maple tree with a small platform in front of it. It's obvious that they're still setting everything up, but she can already picture how it's going to look, and see Quinn's involvement in picking the details.
White lilies and red roses. Pretty, but predictable.
Noah was right, though. There's really no reason for them to be here. Quinn's logic was that if Rachel came in from New York, they wanted to spend as much time together as possible. It makes sense, but she's just sort of sitting here with Noah, watching while everyone else learns their places and how the whole thing's going to run.
Noah keeps leaning over and saying ridiculous things, and she knows his goal is to make her laugh. He succeeds, too, but she doesn't care because people are just sort of milling around by that point. Finn and Quinn are talking with the wedding planner, and the wedding party is talking amongst itself. Quinn's mother is elbowing her way into any conversation she can. So when Rachel tips her head back laughing, no one really notices except Noah.
And he says, "You look fucking incredible when you do that, you know," all matter of fact, like it's not up for debate and never could be.
She kisses him because she wants to and he's nicer to her than she thinks he needs to be.
Then they get stuck in a limo with Finn, Quinn, and Quinn's mother, and Rachel has no idea how that even happened, but here she is, with Judy Fabray looking down her nose like she has any business doing so.
"I'm so hungry," Finn says, and Rachel smiles, because he's not even trying to break the ice, he's just stating facts. "I'm trying to decide if I want the lobster or the steak."
It's quiet for a moment, because how do you even respond to that, really?
Noah does it, though, with, "Surf and turf," and Finn looks at Rachel like he suddenly approves of Noah even more. Not that he gets a say, but still.
Judy looks positively scandalized that Finn is getting along with Noah, and that's worth the price of admission alone.
If she only knew Noah's profession. She'd have kittens.
"Everything looks amazing already," Rachel tells Quinn, just as Noah sets his arm across the back of the seat behind her. "The flowers are gorgeous."
"I've always loved lilies," Quinn starts, and then goes off on a 10 minute tangent about the debate over whether to use gerbera daisies or roses, which ultimately ended in her choosing roses, which of course were more expensive, but…
Rachel loses interest pretty quickly. The more of this wedding stuff she witnesses, the less she wants to have an actual wedding. Not on this scale anyway. 200 guests and a country club and thousands of dollars worth of flowers. It's beautiful, it is, but it's not her, and she thinks it's completely unnecessary. Not that she has any business thinking about her own wedding anyway, considering how single she is.
She leans against Noah a little more, sets her hand on his thigh and likes the way his hand feels on her shoulder when he puts it there.
She's seated next to Kurt at dinner, which makes her nervous simply because she knows exactly how much of a bitch he can be. He'll make all kinds of snide comments about their past and he'll be just awful enough to make her regret even setting foot in the same state as him, but not so awful as to draw attention to the fact that he's not a very good person. It's almost impressive, or it would be if this particular tactic wasn't something she'd seen so many times since she was about 14.
Noah leans over to speak into her ear after she and Kurt have said hello, says, "How are you holding up?" as though this is more torturous for her than it is for him.
"Fine." She meets his eyes and he sort of smiles like he doesn't believe her. "I'm fine."
He kisses her lips right there at the table with everyone around. She forgets about the menu until he chuckles and puts it in her hands.
"So," Kurt says once they've all got full glasses of wine and bread has been put on the table. "What's the real story?"
"I'm sorry?" Rachel asks absently. It's not her fault she's distracted. Noah is talking to Mercedes, who's sitting on the other side of him, and Rachel's eavesdropping. Subtly, of course.
"The guy. Last I heard…"
She doesn't mean to laugh, but she can't help it, because is he joking? "Last you heard? We haven't spoken in years and we don't know any of the same people."
"I know Quinn."
"I don't talk to Quinn either, so whatever the last thing you heard was, it really doesn't…"
The waiter stops to take their orders, and Rachel really hopes that'll be the end of that, because she doesn't trust herself not to get really angry with him and make a scene. She really doesn't want that to happen, for a few reasons. She'd hate to stoop to his level, and she won't ruin things for Finn and Quinn. It makes her so angry that Kurt obviously doesn't care about the couple whose wedding this is, because he's determined to push all the buttons he can, and he'll probably laugh when Rachel loses her cool, if it comes to that.
Quinn's sister, of all people, rescues her by starting a conversation. It's completely vapid and sort of annoying, but she wants to know which famous people Rachel has met and what they've been like, and it's a hell of a lot more fun than dealing with Kurt, so she lets it go on longer than it probably should. Then Noah's talking about some restaurant in New York, and pulls her into that conversation, too, and she ends up sort of just smiling at him as he makes up this whole story about this date he took her on there. It's ridiculous and goes against her plan to not lie, but she's three glasses of wine into the evening and she doesn't care anymore.
Everything's fine, really it is, until after dinner when she goes to the washroom and comes back to find Kurt telling his boyfriend all about Rachel. Including the words, "And then I walk in and find her seducing him on the couch in our apartment. She was so desperate she had to…"
Frankly, she's so appalled that her mouth drops open and she forgets to even sit down.
"Excuse me?" Noah just looks at her. No, she didn't tell him the reason she and Kurt are no longer friends, or at least not about the specific incident which essentially ended them. "I can't believe you."
She's speaking quietly enough that no one really notices the confrontation, and then she sits down so attention won't be drawn to them. She's hurt, though, and she wants to either scream at him or cry, or maybe both, and Noah is just sitting there because he doesn't know what's going on. She wants to leave, but she would hate to ruin Finn and Quinn's evening, which she's sure an early exit would do. And if not the early exit, then definitely a fight with the best man.
"What you walked in on was him sexually assaulting me," she hisses quietly, and Kurt just stares at her like he still doesn't believe it. "You only saw what you wanted to see. I wasn't crying because we'd been caught, or whatever you wanted to say, I was crying because I was terrified."
Noah gets up and leaves the table. She sees him, from the corner of her eye, walking through the restaurant to the door.
And Kurt is still sitting there like he doesn't want to believe what she's said, even though he has no reason to still hold a grudge over this whole mess, not when he's got someone else in his life. He's just always been jealous of her, and she's starting to think he's so goddamn insecure that if it hadn't been this thing that ended their friendship, it would have been something else, just so he wouldn't have to be around her while she was becoming more and more successful and he wasn't.
He doesn't even have the guts or the compassion or the brain to say anything in response to what she's just told him.
"You're a terrible person," she says, and then gets up calmly and walks away because he doesn't deserve to have any kind of conversation with her. Tonight or maybe ever. She's long past needing an apology from him, she'd just appreciate if he didn't go around spreading ridiculous rumours about her.
She finds Noah leaning against the brick outside the from door of the restaurant. She half expects him to be smoking a cigarette, or at least he looks like he could, standing there like that looking incredibly attractive and brooding.
"Sorry," he tells her, as if he's the one she needs an apology from at the moment. "I couldn't stay there and…I would have gotten us kicked out or something." Rachel laughs a little, takes a deep breath and looks to the ground. "I can't fucking stand the though of…"
"I know," she whispers.
"Did Kurt apologize?"
She laughs again. "He's not going to apologize." Noah's jaw clenches. "It's fine. It doesn't matter. He just thinks it does. He lives for drama, so he'll think whatever he wants in order to…"
"Rachel," Noah says, and sounds tired. "Just stop." She sort of leans into him, because she could use comfort and she doesn't feel needy seeking it out from him. "I fucking hate these people." Her shoulders shake as she laughs and he says, "No, I'm serious. They're assholes and you're better without them."
"I've been convincing myself of that for years."
"It shouldn't take that much." He slips his hand into her hair, then pulls it back out and just kind of rubs his fingertips against her neck. "You don't need this shit."
"It's just another couple days," she says, even though she's positive that isn't what he was getting at and he sighs like her dodging the issue is annoying. "Come back inside. We can dance."
He grins at her and kisses her quickly, then slings his arm around her and says, "I'm a great dancer."
He's not, but he doesn't seem to care, and she doesn't either.
She undresses in front of him when they get back to the hotel. He's unbuttoning his shirt and she just unzips her dress and steps out of it with him standing not five feet away and staring at her. She likes it and she doesn't care anymore if that's wrong or stupid. There are far more reckless things she could do. Hell, there are far more reckless things she could do with him.
Then she's just taken off her necklace and she feels his hands on her arms and his bare chest against her back as he holds her. She doesn't know what to say, but she's learned that she likes the way his name feels when she says it, and then his hand is skimming down her side and his fingers go beneath the lace of her panties at her hip.
She turns around, even though she shouldn't turn around. He said he'd follow her lead, which of course makes sense, she just keeps going back and forth on what she actually wants.
He kisses her. Maybe he can tell easier than she can. Maybe she's not really hiding it. Or, even scarier, maybe he knows her better than she wants to admit.
She's the one who lets it get too far. She knows he won't stop it, because it's in his best interest not to, isn't it? Not just because of the money, but because it's sex. She's not stupid and she knows she's attractive - knows he finds her attractive, too - and it's really not a stretch to think he probably wants to sleep with her for that reason, too.
So she's lying beneath him in just her panties, and his mouth is on her breast, and it's terrifying how badly she wants him. She hasn't felt like this about anyone, or with anyone, in ages, and it's not fair, because when this trip is over they're just going to go their separate ways and they'll probably never speak again. She hates that she has this connection with him and has to question how much of it is real and how much is just a result of the circumstance. Or worse, if any of it is real at all, or if maybe he's just a good actor, too.
Perhaps she's weak, but she isn't sure she could handle finding out that's the truth and he's just playing his part.
"Noah." He moans against her breast, swipes his tongue across her nipple and presses his hips against her a little more. She puts her hands on his shoulders, though, and pushes him a bit. "I can't do this."
He just pulls back and looks at her, like he's trying to read her and figure out why she's saying it. She's not about to get into it and have some sort of bizarre heart to heart when she's mostly naked and can feel the wetness between her legs. God, she wants him.
But then he just says, "Okay," and moves off her, and she feels even worse about the whole thing.
"I'm sorry. I…"
"Rachel," he sort of laughs, and then pushes back the covers and lets her get into bed.
He doesn't say anything else, and she can't think of any words that won't just dig a hole she doesn't want to be in.
He turns away from her to fall asleep and she doesn't like that, either.
… … …
She doesn't have time, in the morning, to be awkward and fumble her way through some conversation they may or may not need to have. Really, nothing happened. Sure, there was a little more nudity than there had been to that point, but they just kissed, and it barely got further than that. He didn't touch her, really, anywhere below the belly button. Not in an overly sexual way, anyway. They're adults and there's nothing to talk about, really. What happened, happened, and there's nothing they can do about it now.
She has a wedding to get ready for, and no, she's not trying to upstage the bride, but Rachel loves dressing up and looking her best, and any time she's worn a gown or gone to anything fancy, she's had a stylist and makeup artist to help her. Not to say that going to Quinn's black tie wedding is the same as going to the Tonys, but even so. She can't walk in wearing this masterpiece of a dress and not have her makeup be as close to perfect as she can get it.
She has a purple Diane von Furstenberg gown that drapes in the front and is practically open in the back, with just a strip of fabric down the middle from the back of her neck to the base of her spine. It's absolutely gorgeous and won't be either too much or too little for this event in this weather. And she'd thought of just renting it for the occasion, but she price is so reasonable and she loves it so much, and there's no reason she can't wear it again, to an even in New York; no one will have seen her wearing it here.
To be honest, she considers cheating and walking into a salon and asking if they have time to do her hair, but she sort of likes a challenge. Anyway, her hair tends to look great no matter what she does.
She and Noah order up breakfast, because they're both starving after sleeping in a bit, and he turns on the news and she reads the paper while they eat. It makes her laugh and point out that they're both getting the same information, just in different ways. He sips his coffee and she licks the yoghurt from her spoon, and she finds herself wondering if he finds it as strange as she does, that things aren't awkward between them. Not just because of last night, but because of the circumstances surrounding them even ever having met. Obviously he's a little more used to this kind of thing than she is, but she's been pretty comfortable with him since they got to Ohio, and that's certainly not normal for her. She doesn't trust people this easily, and to be honest, she usually spends a lot more time wondering what they think of her. Maybe it's just the nature of her personality and her profession. She obviously wants him to like her, and she's questioned more than once how much of this thing between them is real and how much of it is his…his contractual obligation.
Noah says he'll get out of her way when she starts talking about getting ready. He wouldn't get in her way and they both know that, but she doesn't dislike the gesture, anyway. She also realizes how boring it must be for him to just sit around waiting on her to get dressed. She won't say that's all he's done all week, but he's done his fair share of it, and from what she gathers, he's a little more active than this, than just sitting on the sofa watching television and waiting on a woman. She can't blame him for wanting to get out of the hotel and do something.
Anyway, it just gives her license to take her time and have an absurdly long shower, then wrap herself in a robe and start thinking about the order in which to do all the things she needs to do.
He's freshly shaven when he walks into the bathroom without knocking. She doesn't mind; she's just taking her hair down out of rollers and has her makeup completely done, save for her lips and her blush. He looks her up and down once and she can tell he wants to make a comment on the rollers still in her hair.
"Did you go to a barber?" she asks, because his hair looks trimmed, too. Not cut, but tidied, or something.
He shrugs one shoulder, then smiles. "Stopped in. I like an old fashioned shave. The kind with the straight razor, you know?"
"It looks really good." He glances toward the shower door and Rachel looks back at the mirror. She can still see his reflection, and he's watching her when he asks, "Mind if I grab a shower?"
"Of course not."
She needs the bathroom and he must realize that.
He strips naked as the water heats up.
And she looks. Of course she looks. They don't have many secrets at this point, not about their bodies, anyway. But dear god, he's a beautiful man. And he knows it and that's obvious. How could he not, though? He obviously works hard for his body - you don't get abs and muscles like that by accident - and, well, look at what he does for a living. She's positive he's heard all the compliments before. He's watching her watching him, and he gives her a little smirk after she stops staring at his…
It's not her fault. It's right there.
The only thing stopping her from getting into the shower with him is the fact that her makeup's done and her hair is halfway there. The sudden throb between her legs seems to be encouraging her to just forget about the wedding entirely.
When he gets out, he tracks water all over the bathroom because he apparently refuses to just pick up a towel and cover himself, and she knows for a fact that he's just doing this to get a reaction from her. She ends up laughing as he grins, and throwing a towel at his face.
"My god, you're shameless," she says, and he presses himself up against her back, sets his hands on the counter on either side of her.
"What do I have to be ashamed of?"
It takes her a second, but she says, "Okay, good point," and he laughs and winks at her in the mirror.
He's fully dressed and just tying his tie when she steps out of the bathroom with her hair completely pinned in place, up in a loose bun so she can show off the back of her dress. The curls she set in her hair make the updo look soft and delicate, which is exactly what she was going for.
"You did all that to your hair only to pull it up?"
Rachel unties her robe and loses any fear she had of being like this with him, lets it fall to the floor and doesn't care that all she has underneath are a pair of seamless panties.
"Stop acting like you don't know what it takes for a woman to look good."
He's staring at her breasts, and she doesn't mind at all.
She couldn't honestly tell you what either of them is trying to accomplish here, but she pulls her dress on and he fastens his watch and still can't take his eyes off her.
The only jewelry she's wearing is a diamond bracelet she was actually a little nervous traveling with, because it's quite valuable, and her diamond stud earrings, which she generally doesn't even take out. She checks the time and steps into her shoes, and Noah just lets out this soft little laugh as he looks at her, as if that is the only way he can think of to tell her he thinks she looks amazing.
She'll take it.
They pull up to the club and the parking attendant opens Noah's door first, asks, "Would you like us to get the door for your wife?" and Noah says, "I've got it."
Rachel hates that her heart does something completely uncontrollable in her chest.
"Your wife?" she asks, slipping her arm through his after he's offered his hand to help her out.
He's not looking at her when he says, "The guy parks cars. I'm not gonna waste time correcting him."
It makes sense, but she still mumbles something about how this relationship is moving very quickly, and he still mutters, "Shut up," on this little laugh, as they walk through the main part of the country club so they can head out to the back where the ceremony is.
They're a little early, and Rachel was, as awful as it sounds, really relieved that she'd gone so long without having to talk to Finn's mother. Not because she doesn't love Carole, but because she does. The woman was practically the mother Rachel never had, and for years after she and Finn broke up, Carole still kept in touch with her, and they'd secretly meet up for tea whenever Rachel was in Lima. That all stopped (she assumes) around the time Finn and Quinn ended up back together again. Rachel isn't bitter or anything, she just doesn't know how to act around this woman who, right before they lost touch, actually told Rachel she was always going to hold out hope that she and Finn could work it out and be together. Now she's at his wedding to someone else and Carole's 20 feet away. Rachel isn't stupid enough to think she could have really made it through this without talking to the woman, but despite all her thinking about it, she really has no idea what she's supposed to say.
They just share a hug, and Carole tells Rachel she looks beautiful and that she's so happy to see her. It's all very genuine, which is something Carole just naturally is, and always has been.
"This is my boyfriend, Noah."
Carole gives a sly little look as she shakes Noah's hand. "I've heard about you." Rachel actually feels herself blushing. "Lucky you, getting to walk around with her on your arm."
Noah laughs quietly and looks to the ground, puts one hand in his pocket and slides the other across Rachel's back. He doesn't say anything, though, and she thinks he's almost…Not embarrassed, but…
"What was that?" she asks, laughing, after Carole has excused herself to go talk to family members who have come in for the day.
Noah shrugs one shoulder and says, "What? She's right." Rachel looks up at him and the tips of his fingers rub against the bare skin on her back. "Lucky."
She kisses him because she can and she knows people are watching. She doesn't care anymore if they think she has a boyfriend. She cares if they think she's happy.
... ... ...
The ceremony is traditional and sweet, and honestly less religious than Rachel was expecting. Everything was beautiful, even if Rachel sort of hates that you could tell everything was planned down to the second. Some people like that, but she loves a little more spontaneity. When that happened, she isn't entirely sure. She's just sort of always thought the best moments in weddings have been a little more organic. Anyway, she sat with her hand on Noah's thigh through the entire ceremony, and when Finn and Quinn were making their way back up the aisle after the whole thing was finished, Noah kissed her temple like it was natural for him to do so.
There is, of course, a signature drink at the cocktail hour, while the bridal party is having photos taken and guests are expected to just mingle and wait for the actual reception room to be opened. Rachel finds all this stuff so silly, but she understands why other people don't. Noah certainly has some entertaining thoughts about this kind of thing.
"This drink is…"
"Too sweet," she supplies, and he looks at her like that's an understatement (it is) and he was going to say something much more colourful (he was).
"I'm starving," he says conversationally, as he scans the crowd and looks around the room.
"I know, baby." It's a complete slip and she didn't actually intend to call him that. She doesn't think she's really ever called a significant other by that pet name, but she was thinking about it, earlier, about how it sounds like it suits him. How it sounds like he'd like it.
And he grins at her and raises one eyebrow, and she realizes she was right. That doesn't stop her from blushing.
"You know," he says, putting his arm around her as she sips her drink. He pulls her closer and speaks against her ear. As if she's not flushed enough already. "The problem with tonight is that you just get sexier and sexier every time I look at you." She thinks he's part joking, so she laughs out his name. "It's pretty easy to act like your boyfriend, is all I'm saying."
She might not be able to breathe.
People seem to be ignoring her, and she really couldn't care less. The people who weren't asked to be in the wedding party are all talking together, and she bumped into Tina in the ladies' room about 20 minutes ago and they made stupid small talk about the ceremony. Rachel didn't get an invitation to come join her former 'friends'. Maybe she's sort of being a bitch not just walking over there herself, but she's really so, so over all this petty garbage that honestly makes her feel like she's back in high school again. Noah might actually have something to do with that. Not only because he is there and she doesn't have to worry about standing alone. She has someone to talk to and entertain her and laugh with her.
But really, he's right. It shouldn't be so hard to convince herself that she really doesn't need any of these people in her life, if they're going to continue to treat her this way. She went years without them and she doesn't need them now. In all likelihood, she'll stay friends with Finn and Quinn - they haven't done anything to hurt her in years and years - but everyone else can go to hell.
"Jesus Christ, I think I'm blind." All right, maybe she'll keep in touch with Santana, too. "That photographer's a sadist."
"She shouldn't be using flash in natural light anyway," Rachel says automatically, and Noah laughs next to her, and wow, this incredibly sweet drink - of which she's had only two - is definitely hitting her harder than it should. "You look gorgeous."
"Thanks," Santana says, and takes the drink Noah offers her. Rachel didn't even realize he'd gotten one. "At least she didn't pick hideous dresses." Rachel laughs. The crimson red strapless bridesmaid dresses certainly aren't hideous. "I wouldn't put it past her to want to make everyone else look like shit so she wouldn't have any competition."
Rachel covers her mouth and leans into Noah a bit. It's really not that funny. What's in this drink, anyway? He's the one who asks, "Why are you friends with her?"
Santana shrugs one perfectly-tanned shoulder and says, "It's been this way since we were like, seven. There's no going back now."
Rachel feels a little uncomfortable. Santana and Quinn have known each other practically an entire lifetime; it's no wonder she always felt like an outsider, even after they'd all but declared a truce. When Quinn and Santana came to visit her in New York freshman year of college, she felt like she was just some hostess, rather than their friend. She can't tell whether or not that's their fault for not including her, or her own fault for feeling something they likely didn't intend on her feeling.
She wants to stop thinking about the past, but it's hard, because a man she almost married is currently being introduced with his new wife, and he looks happier than Rachel's ever seen him, and really, she thinks that will always hurt just a little bit. No matter how many years removed they are from their relationship, or how little desire she has to ever revisit it, it'll still be right there at the top of the list of things she's attempted and failed in her life.
She needs another drink.
There's wine on the table when they finally sit down for dinner, and Noah pours her a glass of white as she introduces herself and him to the people at the table. None of whom she knows or recognizes. She's stuck at a table of nobodies. Two of the women work with Finn, their husbands wearing cheap suits and - at least one of them anyway - smelling of bad cologne. She doesn't feel like giving the Cliff's notes of her entire life to strangers she'll never see again. And god, the other couple at the table is…She doesn't even know how they know Finn and Quinn, and somewhere along the way she decided she doesn't care, either.
Noah is quite clearly the only person at the table worth talking to, so she…Well, she basically wraps herself up in that, in every way that's appropriate. She sits close to him and he has his arm around her chair. He steals a bite of her salad, and feeds her a taste of his soup, which she's positive is made with chicken broth, but she doesn't think one spoonful will kill her. She insists he try her risotto and he laughs when she turns her nose up at his offer to try his salmon.
"I can't wait for cake," she says, and Noah's watching her mouth. He licks his lips and she brushes her thumb against his thigh. "I love cake."
Somehow he manages to make, "That right?" sound like some kind of seduction.
"Anything with icing, really." He sort of smirks, nods slowly. It feels like they're the only people in the room. "Will you dance with me?"
He sighs like it's some kind of big inconvenience, but then rolls his eyes and nods. She kisses him.
"You're good at this," he tells her after a few songs, when their hands are clasped and sort of pressed against his chest and so is she. She just hums. She's not sure what he's talking about. She's a trained dancer, so it could be that. "Some guy out there is really fucking lucky, and he doesn't even know it yet."
He's speaking against her temple, and it makes her almost shiver. His opinion of her is so high and she loves that, but at the same time, he's talking about other guys and she's here with <>him, and that's…
She's not thinking about anyone else. He's thinking about the end of this…agreement, whatever it is. He's thinking of her being with another man, finding someone else, and she can't see past him. She just feels like if the circumstances were different, if he wasn't what he is and she was't who she is, they might be able to…
She has no idea what she's doing anymore, and there used to be a line there, between them, and she could tell when they were close to it or when she was about to cross it, but really, all she knows now is that she wants the idea of her with someone else to make him blind with jealousy. It's completely selfish, obviously, but it's true. Just because they can't be anything doesn't mean she can't think about that kind of thing. She's allowed to want him to want her.
"You make it sound like I'm some kind of best kept secret." He chuckles a little, but doesn't say anything else, and she says, "Kiss me," because she thinks he should have by now.
He's across the room talking with someone she doesn't recognize when she sits down with her second piece of cake. She can't remember when she lost him, but she knows it was sometime after she grabbed another dessert plate, because she thought the little grin he was trying to hold back was cute. Then she's back at their table and he's rubbing elbows with people and making friends, apparently, easier than she ever has. And god, it's just so effortless for him. He stands there with his hand in his pocket, the other holding a drink, and talks about whatever it is that she can't hear, and everyone just…He's got charisma. She thinks that's the best word for it. Women in the room look at him and the men are jealous of that alone. It's really no wonder that this random man in his bow tie wants to talk to Noah, as if he has any hope of picking up on any tricks or tips just from a simple conversation alone.
She picks away at her cake - cake first, leaving the icing to savour last - and tries not to look over to where he's now got a group of three men he's speaking with. Why does she care so much? It's not jealous of any kind, honestly. He can talk to who he wants to talk to, and she's not so desperate that she needs him next to her right now, when she's not doing anything else. She actually doesn't mind just watching him, wondering if he knows she is.
"Oh my god, my feet are killing me." Rachel smiles and glances over at Quinn, who's flopped down into the seat next to her, huge white dress pressing against Rachel's calves. "What a day."
"It was really beautiful," Rachel says, and she means it. "I'm happy for you."
Quinn sighs, sort of dreamily, and looks to where Finn is dancing with Tina. "I'm so exhausted, but I think it's just my emotions. I could probably go all night."
Rachel giggles and quirks her brow. "You probably will."
"Rachel!" Quinn gasps, then leans over and lays her head on Rachel's shoulder, gathers some of her dress in her hands and lets it go again. "I'm really glad you came."
"Me too."
If you'd asked her a few days ago, that may have been a lie. Now she's not so sure. She's happy to be here for Finn and Quinn, but everyone else, she could still take or leave. All the stupid drama is still something she could definitely do without and plans to leave behind as soon as she's on the plane back to New York.
"Noah," Quinn says, and Rachel assumes there's more, but Quinn doesn't say anything else.
"What about him?"
Quinn pulls away then, looks at Rachel and does this little smile, a genuine one. Rachel's startled by the realization that it's not an expression she's seen much of on the woman's face, ever.
"He makes you happy," Quinn says quietly. No one else is even close enough to be listening to their conversation anyway, but still. "I've never seen you like this."
Rachel knows it's not a dig. It's not Quinn dropping a twisted reminder that Rachel and Finn weren't as happy as they should have been, or anything like that. She's not implying that Finn's happier with her (though he obviously is and Rachel isn't stupid or jealous or naive to that, either.) It's just an observation, like Quinn's saying it because it's something she's noticed and feels is important to point out.
"It's…" Rachel licks the icing from her fork and watches Noah sip his drink. "Complicated."
Quinn just laughs like that's the most ridiculous thing she's ever heard. "What's complicated about it?"
Rachel shrugs her shoulder, looks to her plate, and Quinn drops it because she must know she's not going to get any more of an explanation than that.
Honestly, even if they were best friends, Rachel would have a hard time explaining anything about this situation.
God, she's finding it damn near impossible to even entertain the idea that she's falling in love with this man she's known barely a week. How would she ever possibly articulate that to someone else?
Title: I Don't Have A Choice (But I Still Choose You) [2/3]
Character: Puck/Rachel
Summary: Quinn and Finn are getting married. Rachel hires male escort Puck to be her date. Prompted by dangerspace
Word Count: 25,500 (total)
Disclaimer: Don't own.
She wakes up with a pounding head and a rolling stomach and a man next to her, shirtless and reading The New York Times. She groans, and without looking at her, he points over to the table on her side of the bed, and there's a little tray with a Starbucks cup and a bottle of Tylenol, and a plain croissant next to a bowl of fresh fruit and bottle of Gatorade.
She mumbles, "Best fake boyfriend ever," and sort of ignores the way he laughs.
"Mets won. Fuck." She's just finished her first sip of coffee, and now she's dropping pills into her hand and prepping to chase with this amazing dark roast.
"You care about the Mets?"
"No, I hate the Mets." She laughs a bit and swallows down the pills, then reaches for a grape and the croissant. She's not even sitting up, only as much as she has to in order not to spill coffee on herself. "I just want them to lose every game."
She talks with her mouth full for the first time in…she can't even remember. "If you weren't a Yankees fan this wouldn't have worked at all."
He looks at her with his brow raised. "That right?"
"When I was 13 I thought I was going to marry Derek Jeter."
"How's that working out for you?"
She shrugs her shoulder and takes another bite. "He lives a few blocks from me. We have the same dry cleaner." He turns towards her a little more and looks at her like she's crazy. She just laughs. "You might not believe it, but I'm kind of a big deal."
He rolls his eyes, then, and turns to the business section. "I'm not completely uncultured. I've seen your shows."
Oh.
"You have?"
He nods a little, keeps looking at the newspaper. "Not many people wanna go to the theatre alone, you know?" he says, and oh god, she can't believe… "I liked you best in Chicago, personally."
"You…"
"Or that play with Bradley Cooper."
She doesn't mean to laugh, but it happens, and she leans up on her elbow so she can look at him better. "Have you seen everything I've been in?"
He says, "Probably not," and things feel a little more balanced again, because he doesn't know what all she's been in, and that at least feels normal. "What do we have to do today?"
"Mmm." There goes that eyebrow of his again. She didn't mean to moan, it's just that she's hungover and the answer to that question is the most appealing thing in the world to her. "Nothing."
"So you can just stay there like that," he says, grinning at her. "Looking fucking adorable, and…" And what, she wonders, but then he reaches over and runs his pinky finger along the top of her camisole, where the lace ends and her skin begins. "Nope. Wrong word."
She reaches blindly for her coffee again, grabs it and brings it to her lips as she watches him. She believes he has as much interest in the business section of that newspaper as she does in anything that isn't him right now.
"You know, all this really makes me wonder what you're like with a woman you actually want to date."
He just laughs and goes back to the newspaper.
She finishes her breakfast and closes her eyes again, but only falls asleep when he gets comfortable next to her, drapes his arm over her waist and pulls her back against him.
… … …
"I read about this place," he tells her when she steps out of the bathroom. It's nearing 4:30 in the afternoon and she's only just gotten out of bed and showered. She slept off the hangover and feels a million times better now. She knows he didn't stay with her the entire time, nor did she expect or need him to. She couldn't tell you what he did while she slept it off, but it doesn't matter, she supposes.
She hopes 'this place' isn't anything that requires her to change, because her jeans and white tee shirt are all she can handle right now.
They end up walking to this place that - according to the sign in the window and the article Noah read - has the best burgers in Columbus. Apparently it was on Man vs. Food, which, though she hates to admit it, is a show she actually enjoys. It's a little gross to watch that guy stuffing his face, but he's funny and he has a genuine passion for food. She's gone to a couple of the places he's showcased, and she doesn't mind trying another.
She hopes there's a vegetarian option.
"I looked online," Noah tells her, and she smiles at him a bit. "You're safe."
She tries to convince herself he'd be this thoughtful even if he wasn't being paid.
He slings his arm around her shoulders as they walk, and it's strange, probably, but she wonders why he's bothering. There's no one around to pretend for, or try to impress. And she'd question him out loud, but she quite likes the way it feels, and the way she believes they look together. It's really not a big deal and it doesn't seem to be putting him out at all, either, so she just lets it happen and slides her arm around his waist when it feels natural to do it.
She honestly wishes she could meet a man with etiquette as good as Noah's. She has no doubt in her mind that this is all learned and not all of it comes naturally to him. His agency is incredibly specialized and high class, so she wouldn't be surprised in the slightest to learn that he went to some kind of…of escort's finishing school, or whatever one might call it. It's not as though she's complaining, it's just a thought she has. He just makes it all look natural, even if it isn't, and she's intrigued or curious, more than anything, about what he does and how he makes his living. She'll survive without the details, of course, but it's just that he looks as though he's perfectly content with his life as it is, and so she wants to know how his situation differs from the generally believed notions of what an escort is and how one might act.
"May I ask you a question?" she asks when his mouth is full, and he nods without missing a beat. "You absolutely reserve the right to ignore it if…"
"What?"
"How…" She glances around and then leans forward a bit. "How much money do you make?" Noah just laughs. "I can do basic math, obviously, and I know what I'm…But I don't know the variables, and…"
"I make enough," he tells her, chuckling. That's not a good enough answer. "Enough that I could take the rest of the year off and not have to worry about a thing." She feels her eyes go wide. "This is the first job I've taken in a few weeks."
"So you just…work when you feel like it," she states, and he shrugs one shoulder and drags some fries through the ketchup on his plate. "That's incredible."
"I'm good at what I do."
"And you've…I mean, how many…"
He rolls his eyes. Probably because she can't even verbalize it and he knows what she's going to ask.
"Women are…If you're asking about sex, most of the time it's not even about that."
"Most of the time," she says under her breath. God, he's an escort. It shouldn't bother her that he's been with however many women he's been with. "What is it about?"
He meets her eyes across the table, says, rather pointedly, "What's it about for you?" Oh god. Point taken. "And look, it's not…Men, when they hire, they're doing it for the same reasons. Usually."
"I don't…What do you mean?"
"Same issues. Same loneliness. They just have different ways of dealing with it."
Rachel sits back again. "You mean sex."
"Sometimes," he answers. "And, fuck it, sometimes women want that, too. I dunno. What are you asking me?"
She laughs, then he does, and the waitress comes to refill their drinks. "I don't know. Nothing. It's silly."
"If you wanna know, it's not silly," he tells her, and swipes his napkin across his face. "That's the thing with you, you know."
"What?"
"You seem to make all these apologies when you want something, or feel something." She must give him a strange look. "You don't just go for it."
Rachel laughs too loudly, probably, and shakes her head. "For the first time all day, just now, I was reminded that you really don't know me."
He doesn't say anything about that. He can't argue and they both know it.
(Later, when they're walking past a shop and he points out a dress and says, "That looks like something you'd like," and she falls completely in love with it and buys it without a second thought, he says, "I know you a little," and she's not surprised whatsoever when his hand caresses her ass as she slips her Visa back into her wallet.)
… … …
"I never got the point of a rehearsal dinner."
"People get nervous," she says absently, smudging her eyeliner with her pinky finger. Noah's half dressed. She isn't sure if he got bored or tired halfway through, or what, but he's lying on the bed with his pants on, but unzipped, and his shirt on, but unbuttoned. "This isn't an event you want to forget the choreography for."
"There shouldn't be choreography. It should be easy. Person A, Person B, I do. Done." Rachel laughs and turns to him, the slip she's wearing shifting with her as she moves. "It's not that hard."
"You don't know Finn. He's…It's not that he's bad under pressure. He's great under pressure, actually. But it's like…I'm trying to think of a sports analogy." She taps her eyeliner pencil on her chin as she considers it. Noah's smirk isn't helping. "Last offensive down of the Superbowl and he's the quarterback. Down four points and it all rides on him."
"That's…"
"That's how he is with pressure."
"So what you're saying is he shits his pants until the ball's in his hand." Rachel laughs again, nods her head. "And the ball, in this case, is like, the vows."
"Sure." She reaches for her mascara.
"Why are we even going? You're not in the wedding party." She lifts her brow. "I know some stuff about weddings."
"Technically we're just going for dinner. Sort of witnessing the rehearsal."
"Is the dinner gonna be good, at least?"
Rachel laughs and looks at him again. He seems to be asking a lot of questions for a guy who's being paid to be certain places at certain times without complaining.
"We're going to one of the nicest restaurants in Ohio after we leave the country club."
"And we don't have to pay," he states, like he's looking for clarification of some kind.
Rachel rolls her eyes and swipes on her mascara. "From what you've told me, it wouldn't hurt your bank account much if we did."
He's grinning when she glances at him. "It's the principle of the thing."
She can't remember the last time someone made her laugh as much as he does.
She knows how good she looks in her dress. It's this royal blue one shoulder thing she's never worn before and bought on a whim. She lives in New York City and makes enough money that she can just walk into some designer shop off the street and pick out something she likes. She's worked hard to get to this point and she won't apologize for it or hide it just because the people she's spending time with can't do the same. She's not showing off, either.
"I like that one," he says, eyes lingering on her legs as she steps out of the bedroom. He's at least migrated to the sofa and also finished putting his clothes on.
Rachel smiles at him, pushes her hair off her shoulder as he looks the entire length of her body. Slowly. "Haven't you liked them all?"
He just grins at her like she's onto him, or something like that, and his tongue wets his bottom lip.
Well.
"Are you ready?" she asks. Why he chuckles as he gets up, she really has no idea.
He says he wouldn't mind drinking, and she can't really blame him, so they take a cab. It's the responsible thing to do. There's just no way she'll get out of this evening without people 'forcing' her to have more than one drink. There will be toasts, and table wine, and it would just be stupid for either she or Noah to believe they'll be sober enough to drive later.
"Why do you look nervous?"
"I'm not nervous," she answers. Probably too quickly.
He just sort of gives her this half grin and raises his brow as they pull up the driveway to the country club. "Convincing."
She doesn't want to talk about it, and it's silly anyway and she'll get over it. "Quinn's mother doesn't like me, and apparently told Quinn not to invite me. I guess she just assumed I'd still have feelings for Finn."
"Do you?" The look she gives him is probably murderous. That's what she's going for, anyway. He holds up his hands. "It was just a question."
"I'm also a little worried that everyone's going to be busy and I'll be left alone and no one will talk to me."
He's absolutely sincere when he shrugs one shoulder and says, "I'll talk to you."
He reaches for her hand to help her out of the cab after she's paid the driver, and she smoothes imaginary wrinkles out of the fabric before looping her arm through his and heading for the door. This place is incredibly pretentious, not that she expected anything less, and the doorman seems to judge both she and Noah as they walk past him. She doesn't care. After tomorrow she never has to come back here again. And not to sound like a bitch, but she just can't bring herself to think twice about what some 20 year old kid thinks of her.
There's a sign directing them to where the rehearsal is taking place, and when they walk out the back of the building and onto the patio, Rachel can't stop herself.
"Oh, wow," she breathes, and god, it's really beautiful. The sun's just beginning to set, and there are flowers lining the steps that lead down onto the lawn. Chairs are set up for tomorrow's guests, and there's a huge maple tree with a small platform in front of it. It's obvious that they're still setting everything up, but she can already picture how it's going to look, and see Quinn's involvement in picking the details.
White lilies and red roses. Pretty, but predictable.
Noah was right, though. There's really no reason for them to be here. Quinn's logic was that if Rachel came in from New York, they wanted to spend as much time together as possible. It makes sense, but she's just sort of sitting here with Noah, watching while everyone else learns their places and how the whole thing's going to run.
Noah keeps leaning over and saying ridiculous things, and she knows his goal is to make her laugh. He succeeds, too, but she doesn't care because people are just sort of milling around by that point. Finn and Quinn are talking with the wedding planner, and the wedding party is talking amongst itself. Quinn's mother is elbowing her way into any conversation she can. So when Rachel tips her head back laughing, no one really notices except Noah.
And he says, "You look fucking incredible when you do that, you know," all matter of fact, like it's not up for debate and never could be.
She kisses him because she wants to and he's nicer to her than she thinks he needs to be.
Then they get stuck in a limo with Finn, Quinn, and Quinn's mother, and Rachel has no idea how that even happened, but here she is, with Judy Fabray looking down her nose like she has any business doing so.
"I'm so hungry," Finn says, and Rachel smiles, because he's not even trying to break the ice, he's just stating facts. "I'm trying to decide if I want the lobster or the steak."
It's quiet for a moment, because how do you even respond to that, really?
Noah does it, though, with, "Surf and turf," and Finn looks at Rachel like he suddenly approves of Noah even more. Not that he gets a say, but still.
Judy looks positively scandalized that Finn is getting along with Noah, and that's worth the price of admission alone.
If she only knew Noah's profession. She'd have kittens.
"Everything looks amazing already," Rachel tells Quinn, just as Noah sets his arm across the back of the seat behind her. "The flowers are gorgeous."
"I've always loved lilies," Quinn starts, and then goes off on a 10 minute tangent about the debate over whether to use gerbera daisies or roses, which ultimately ended in her choosing roses, which of course were more expensive, but…
Rachel loses interest pretty quickly. The more of this wedding stuff she witnesses, the less she wants to have an actual wedding. Not on this scale anyway. 200 guests and a country club and thousands of dollars worth of flowers. It's beautiful, it is, but it's not her, and she thinks it's completely unnecessary. Not that she has any business thinking about her own wedding anyway, considering how single she is.
She leans against Noah a little more, sets her hand on his thigh and likes the way his hand feels on her shoulder when he puts it there.
She's seated next to Kurt at dinner, which makes her nervous simply because she knows exactly how much of a bitch he can be. He'll make all kinds of snide comments about their past and he'll be just awful enough to make her regret even setting foot in the same state as him, but not so awful as to draw attention to the fact that he's not a very good person. It's almost impressive, or it would be if this particular tactic wasn't something she'd seen so many times since she was about 14.
Noah leans over to speak into her ear after she and Kurt have said hello, says, "How are you holding up?" as though this is more torturous for her than it is for him.
"Fine." She meets his eyes and he sort of smiles like he doesn't believe her. "I'm fine."
He kisses her lips right there at the table with everyone around. She forgets about the menu until he chuckles and puts it in her hands.
"So," Kurt says once they've all got full glasses of wine and bread has been put on the table. "What's the real story?"
"I'm sorry?" Rachel asks absently. It's not her fault she's distracted. Noah is talking to Mercedes, who's sitting on the other side of him, and Rachel's eavesdropping. Subtly, of course.
"The guy. Last I heard…"
She doesn't mean to laugh, but she can't help it, because is he joking? "Last you heard? We haven't spoken in years and we don't know any of the same people."
"I know Quinn."
"I don't talk to Quinn either, so whatever the last thing you heard was, it really doesn't…"
The waiter stops to take their orders, and Rachel really hopes that'll be the end of that, because she doesn't trust herself not to get really angry with him and make a scene. She really doesn't want that to happen, for a few reasons. She'd hate to stoop to his level, and she won't ruin things for Finn and Quinn. It makes her so angry that Kurt obviously doesn't care about the couple whose wedding this is, because he's determined to push all the buttons he can, and he'll probably laugh when Rachel loses her cool, if it comes to that.
Quinn's sister, of all people, rescues her by starting a conversation. It's completely vapid and sort of annoying, but she wants to know which famous people Rachel has met and what they've been like, and it's a hell of a lot more fun than dealing with Kurt, so she lets it go on longer than it probably should. Then Noah's talking about some restaurant in New York, and pulls her into that conversation, too, and she ends up sort of just smiling at him as he makes up this whole story about this date he took her on there. It's ridiculous and goes against her plan to not lie, but she's three glasses of wine into the evening and she doesn't care anymore.
Everything's fine, really it is, until after dinner when she goes to the washroom and comes back to find Kurt telling his boyfriend all about Rachel. Including the words, "And then I walk in and find her seducing him on the couch in our apartment. She was so desperate she had to…"
Frankly, she's so appalled that her mouth drops open and she forgets to even sit down.
"Excuse me?" Noah just looks at her. No, she didn't tell him the reason she and Kurt are no longer friends, or at least not about the specific incident which essentially ended them. "I can't believe you."
She's speaking quietly enough that no one really notices the confrontation, and then she sits down so attention won't be drawn to them. She's hurt, though, and she wants to either scream at him or cry, or maybe both, and Noah is just sitting there because he doesn't know what's going on. She wants to leave, but she would hate to ruin Finn and Quinn's evening, which she's sure an early exit would do. And if not the early exit, then definitely a fight with the best man.
"What you walked in on was him sexually assaulting me," she hisses quietly, and Kurt just stares at her like he still doesn't believe it. "You only saw what you wanted to see. I wasn't crying because we'd been caught, or whatever you wanted to say, I was crying because I was terrified."
Noah gets up and leaves the table. She sees him, from the corner of her eye, walking through the restaurant to the door.
And Kurt is still sitting there like he doesn't want to believe what she's said, even though he has no reason to still hold a grudge over this whole mess, not when he's got someone else in his life. He's just always been jealous of her, and she's starting to think he's so goddamn insecure that if it hadn't been this thing that ended their friendship, it would have been something else, just so he wouldn't have to be around her while she was becoming more and more successful and he wasn't.
He doesn't even have the guts or the compassion or the brain to say anything in response to what she's just told him.
"You're a terrible person," she says, and then gets up calmly and walks away because he doesn't deserve to have any kind of conversation with her. Tonight or maybe ever. She's long past needing an apology from him, she'd just appreciate if he didn't go around spreading ridiculous rumours about her.
She finds Noah leaning against the brick outside the from door of the restaurant. She half expects him to be smoking a cigarette, or at least he looks like he could, standing there like that looking incredibly attractive and brooding.
"Sorry," he tells her, as if he's the one she needs an apology from at the moment. "I couldn't stay there and…I would have gotten us kicked out or something." Rachel laughs a little, takes a deep breath and looks to the ground. "I can't fucking stand the though of…"
"I know," she whispers.
"Did Kurt apologize?"
She laughs again. "He's not going to apologize." Noah's jaw clenches. "It's fine. It doesn't matter. He just thinks it does. He lives for drama, so he'll think whatever he wants in order to…"
"Rachel," Noah says, and sounds tired. "Just stop." She sort of leans into him, because she could use comfort and she doesn't feel needy seeking it out from him. "I fucking hate these people." Her shoulders shake as she laughs and he says, "No, I'm serious. They're assholes and you're better without them."
"I've been convincing myself of that for years."
"It shouldn't take that much." He slips his hand into her hair, then pulls it back out and just kind of rubs his fingertips against her neck. "You don't need this shit."
"It's just another couple days," she says, even though she's positive that isn't what he was getting at and he sighs like her dodging the issue is annoying. "Come back inside. We can dance."
He grins at her and kisses her quickly, then slings his arm around her and says, "I'm a great dancer."
He's not, but he doesn't seem to care, and she doesn't either.
She undresses in front of him when they get back to the hotel. He's unbuttoning his shirt and she just unzips her dress and steps out of it with him standing not five feet away and staring at her. She likes it and she doesn't care anymore if that's wrong or stupid. There are far more reckless things she could do. Hell, there are far more reckless things she could do with him.
Then she's just taken off her necklace and she feels his hands on her arms and his bare chest against her back as he holds her. She doesn't know what to say, but she's learned that she likes the way his name feels when she says it, and then his hand is skimming down her side and his fingers go beneath the lace of her panties at her hip.
She turns around, even though she shouldn't turn around. He said he'd follow her lead, which of course makes sense, she just keeps going back and forth on what she actually wants.
He kisses her. Maybe he can tell easier than she can. Maybe she's not really hiding it. Or, even scarier, maybe he knows her better than she wants to admit.
She's the one who lets it get too far. She knows he won't stop it, because it's in his best interest not to, isn't it? Not just because of the money, but because it's sex. She's not stupid and she knows she's attractive - knows he finds her attractive, too - and it's really not a stretch to think he probably wants to sleep with her for that reason, too.
So she's lying beneath him in just her panties, and his mouth is on her breast, and it's terrifying how badly she wants him. She hasn't felt like this about anyone, or with anyone, in ages, and it's not fair, because when this trip is over they're just going to go their separate ways and they'll probably never speak again. She hates that she has this connection with him and has to question how much of it is real and how much is just a result of the circumstance. Or worse, if any of it is real at all, or if maybe he's just a good actor, too.
Perhaps she's weak, but she isn't sure she could handle finding out that's the truth and he's just playing his part.
"Noah." He moans against her breast, swipes his tongue across her nipple and presses his hips against her a little more. She puts her hands on his shoulders, though, and pushes him a bit. "I can't do this."
He just pulls back and looks at her, like he's trying to read her and figure out why she's saying it. She's not about to get into it and have some sort of bizarre heart to heart when she's mostly naked and can feel the wetness between her legs. God, she wants him.
But then he just says, "Okay," and moves off her, and she feels even worse about the whole thing.
"I'm sorry. I…"
"Rachel," he sort of laughs, and then pushes back the covers and lets her get into bed.
He doesn't say anything else, and she can't think of any words that won't just dig a hole she doesn't want to be in.
He turns away from her to fall asleep and she doesn't like that, either.
… … …
She doesn't have time, in the morning, to be awkward and fumble her way through some conversation they may or may not need to have. Really, nothing happened. Sure, there was a little more nudity than there had been to that point, but they just kissed, and it barely got further than that. He didn't touch her, really, anywhere below the belly button. Not in an overly sexual way, anyway. They're adults and there's nothing to talk about, really. What happened, happened, and there's nothing they can do about it now.
She has a wedding to get ready for, and no, she's not trying to upstage the bride, but Rachel loves dressing up and looking her best, and any time she's worn a gown or gone to anything fancy, she's had a stylist and makeup artist to help her. Not to say that going to Quinn's black tie wedding is the same as going to the Tonys, but even so. She can't walk in wearing this masterpiece of a dress and not have her makeup be as close to perfect as she can get it.
She has a purple Diane von Furstenberg gown that drapes in the front and is practically open in the back, with just a strip of fabric down the middle from the back of her neck to the base of her spine. It's absolutely gorgeous and won't be either too much or too little for this event in this weather. And she'd thought of just renting it for the occasion, but she price is so reasonable and she loves it so much, and there's no reason she can't wear it again, to an even in New York; no one will have seen her wearing it here.
To be honest, she considers cheating and walking into a salon and asking if they have time to do her hair, but she sort of likes a challenge. Anyway, her hair tends to look great no matter what she does.
She and Noah order up breakfast, because they're both starving after sleeping in a bit, and he turns on the news and she reads the paper while they eat. It makes her laugh and point out that they're both getting the same information, just in different ways. He sips his coffee and she licks the yoghurt from her spoon, and she finds herself wondering if he finds it as strange as she does, that things aren't awkward between them. Not just because of last night, but because of the circumstances surrounding them even ever having met. Obviously he's a little more used to this kind of thing than she is, but she's been pretty comfortable with him since they got to Ohio, and that's certainly not normal for her. She doesn't trust people this easily, and to be honest, she usually spends a lot more time wondering what they think of her. Maybe it's just the nature of her personality and her profession. She obviously wants him to like her, and she's questioned more than once how much of this thing between them is real and how much of it is his…his contractual obligation.
Noah says he'll get out of her way when she starts talking about getting ready. He wouldn't get in her way and they both know that, but she doesn't dislike the gesture, anyway. She also realizes how boring it must be for him to just sit around waiting on her to get dressed. She won't say that's all he's done all week, but he's done his fair share of it, and from what she gathers, he's a little more active than this, than just sitting on the sofa watching television and waiting on a woman. She can't blame him for wanting to get out of the hotel and do something.
Anyway, it just gives her license to take her time and have an absurdly long shower, then wrap herself in a robe and start thinking about the order in which to do all the things she needs to do.
He's freshly shaven when he walks into the bathroom without knocking. She doesn't mind; she's just taking her hair down out of rollers and has her makeup completely done, save for her lips and her blush. He looks her up and down once and she can tell he wants to make a comment on the rollers still in her hair.
"Did you go to a barber?" she asks, because his hair looks trimmed, too. Not cut, but tidied, or something.
He shrugs one shoulder, then smiles. "Stopped in. I like an old fashioned shave. The kind with the straight razor, you know?"
"It looks really good." He glances toward the shower door and Rachel looks back at the mirror. She can still see his reflection, and he's watching her when he asks, "Mind if I grab a shower?"
"Of course not."
She needs the bathroom and he must realize that.
He strips naked as the water heats up.
And she looks. Of course she looks. They don't have many secrets at this point, not about their bodies, anyway. But dear god, he's a beautiful man. And he knows it and that's obvious. How could he not, though? He obviously works hard for his body - you don't get abs and muscles like that by accident - and, well, look at what he does for a living. She's positive he's heard all the compliments before. He's watching her watching him, and he gives her a little smirk after she stops staring at his…
It's not her fault. It's right there.
The only thing stopping her from getting into the shower with him is the fact that her makeup's done and her hair is halfway there. The sudden throb between her legs seems to be encouraging her to just forget about the wedding entirely.
When he gets out, he tracks water all over the bathroom because he apparently refuses to just pick up a towel and cover himself, and she knows for a fact that he's just doing this to get a reaction from her. She ends up laughing as he grins, and throwing a towel at his face.
"My god, you're shameless," she says, and he presses himself up against her back, sets his hands on the counter on either side of her.
"What do I have to be ashamed of?"
It takes her a second, but she says, "Okay, good point," and he laughs and winks at her in the mirror.
He's fully dressed and just tying his tie when she steps out of the bathroom with her hair completely pinned in place, up in a loose bun so she can show off the back of her dress. The curls she set in her hair make the updo look soft and delicate, which is exactly what she was going for.
"You did all that to your hair only to pull it up?"
Rachel unties her robe and loses any fear she had of being like this with him, lets it fall to the floor and doesn't care that all she has underneath are a pair of seamless panties.
"Stop acting like you don't know what it takes for a woman to look good."
He's staring at her breasts, and she doesn't mind at all.
She couldn't honestly tell you what either of them is trying to accomplish here, but she pulls her dress on and he fastens his watch and still can't take his eyes off her.
The only jewelry she's wearing is a diamond bracelet she was actually a little nervous traveling with, because it's quite valuable, and her diamond stud earrings, which she generally doesn't even take out. She checks the time and steps into her shoes, and Noah just lets out this soft little laugh as he looks at her, as if that is the only way he can think of to tell her he thinks she looks amazing.
She'll take it.
They pull up to the club and the parking attendant opens Noah's door first, asks, "Would you like us to get the door for your wife?" and Noah says, "I've got it."
Rachel hates that her heart does something completely uncontrollable in her chest.
"Your wife?" she asks, slipping her arm through his after he's offered his hand to help her out.
He's not looking at her when he says, "The guy parks cars. I'm not gonna waste time correcting him."
It makes sense, but she still mumbles something about how this relationship is moving very quickly, and he still mutters, "Shut up," on this little laugh, as they walk through the main part of the country club so they can head out to the back where the ceremony is.
They're a little early, and Rachel was, as awful as it sounds, really relieved that she'd gone so long without having to talk to Finn's mother. Not because she doesn't love Carole, but because she does. The woman was practically the mother Rachel never had, and for years after she and Finn broke up, Carole still kept in touch with her, and they'd secretly meet up for tea whenever Rachel was in Lima. That all stopped (she assumes) around the time Finn and Quinn ended up back together again. Rachel isn't bitter or anything, she just doesn't know how to act around this woman who, right before they lost touch, actually told Rachel she was always going to hold out hope that she and Finn could work it out and be together. Now she's at his wedding to someone else and Carole's 20 feet away. Rachel isn't stupid enough to think she could have really made it through this without talking to the woman, but despite all her thinking about it, she really has no idea what she's supposed to say.
They just share a hug, and Carole tells Rachel she looks beautiful and that she's so happy to see her. It's all very genuine, which is something Carole just naturally is, and always has been.
"This is my boyfriend, Noah."
Carole gives a sly little look as she shakes Noah's hand. "I've heard about you." Rachel actually feels herself blushing. "Lucky you, getting to walk around with her on your arm."
Noah laughs quietly and looks to the ground, puts one hand in his pocket and slides the other across Rachel's back. He doesn't say anything, though, and she thinks he's almost…Not embarrassed, but…
"What was that?" she asks, laughing, after Carole has excused herself to go talk to family members who have come in for the day.
Noah shrugs one shoulder and says, "What? She's right." Rachel looks up at him and the tips of his fingers rub against the bare skin on her back. "Lucky."
She kisses him because she can and she knows people are watching. She doesn't care anymore if they think she has a boyfriend. She cares if they think she's happy.
... ... ...
The ceremony is traditional and sweet, and honestly less religious than Rachel was expecting. Everything was beautiful, even if Rachel sort of hates that you could tell everything was planned down to the second. Some people like that, but she loves a little more spontaneity. When that happened, she isn't entirely sure. She's just sort of always thought the best moments in weddings have been a little more organic. Anyway, she sat with her hand on Noah's thigh through the entire ceremony, and when Finn and Quinn were making their way back up the aisle after the whole thing was finished, Noah kissed her temple like it was natural for him to do so.
There is, of course, a signature drink at the cocktail hour, while the bridal party is having photos taken and guests are expected to just mingle and wait for the actual reception room to be opened. Rachel finds all this stuff so silly, but she understands why other people don't. Noah certainly has some entertaining thoughts about this kind of thing.
"This drink is…"
"Too sweet," she supplies, and he looks at her like that's an understatement (it is) and he was going to say something much more colourful (he was).
"I'm starving," he says conversationally, as he scans the crowd and looks around the room.
"I know, baby." It's a complete slip and she didn't actually intend to call him that. She doesn't think she's really ever called a significant other by that pet name, but she was thinking about it, earlier, about how it sounds like it suits him. How it sounds like he'd like it.
And he grins at her and raises one eyebrow, and she realizes she was right. That doesn't stop her from blushing.
"You know," he says, putting his arm around her as she sips her drink. He pulls her closer and speaks against her ear. As if she's not flushed enough already. "The problem with tonight is that you just get sexier and sexier every time I look at you." She thinks he's part joking, so she laughs out his name. "It's pretty easy to act like your boyfriend, is all I'm saying."
She might not be able to breathe.
People seem to be ignoring her, and she really couldn't care less. The people who weren't asked to be in the wedding party are all talking together, and she bumped into Tina in the ladies' room about 20 minutes ago and they made stupid small talk about the ceremony. Rachel didn't get an invitation to come join her former 'friends'. Maybe she's sort of being a bitch not just walking over there herself, but she's really so, so over all this petty garbage that honestly makes her feel like she's back in high school again. Noah might actually have something to do with that. Not only because he is there and she doesn't have to worry about standing alone. She has someone to talk to and entertain her and laugh with her.
But really, he's right. It shouldn't be so hard to convince herself that she really doesn't need any of these people in her life, if they're going to continue to treat her this way. She went years without them and she doesn't need them now. In all likelihood, she'll stay friends with Finn and Quinn - they haven't done anything to hurt her in years and years - but everyone else can go to hell.
"Jesus Christ, I think I'm blind." All right, maybe she'll keep in touch with Santana, too. "That photographer's a sadist."
"She shouldn't be using flash in natural light anyway," Rachel says automatically, and Noah laughs next to her, and wow, this incredibly sweet drink - of which she's had only two - is definitely hitting her harder than it should. "You look gorgeous."
"Thanks," Santana says, and takes the drink Noah offers her. Rachel didn't even realize he'd gotten one. "At least she didn't pick hideous dresses." Rachel laughs. The crimson red strapless bridesmaid dresses certainly aren't hideous. "I wouldn't put it past her to want to make everyone else look like shit so she wouldn't have any competition."
Rachel covers her mouth and leans into Noah a bit. It's really not that funny. What's in this drink, anyway? He's the one who asks, "Why are you friends with her?"
Santana shrugs one perfectly-tanned shoulder and says, "It's been this way since we were like, seven. There's no going back now."
Rachel feels a little uncomfortable. Santana and Quinn have known each other practically an entire lifetime; it's no wonder she always felt like an outsider, even after they'd all but declared a truce. When Quinn and Santana came to visit her in New York freshman year of college, she felt like she was just some hostess, rather than their friend. She can't tell whether or not that's their fault for not including her, or her own fault for feeling something they likely didn't intend on her feeling.
She wants to stop thinking about the past, but it's hard, because a man she almost married is currently being introduced with his new wife, and he looks happier than Rachel's ever seen him, and really, she thinks that will always hurt just a little bit. No matter how many years removed they are from their relationship, or how little desire she has to ever revisit it, it'll still be right there at the top of the list of things she's attempted and failed in her life.
She needs another drink.
There's wine on the table when they finally sit down for dinner, and Noah pours her a glass of white as she introduces herself and him to the people at the table. None of whom she knows or recognizes. She's stuck at a table of nobodies. Two of the women work with Finn, their husbands wearing cheap suits and - at least one of them anyway - smelling of bad cologne. She doesn't feel like giving the Cliff's notes of her entire life to strangers she'll never see again. And god, the other couple at the table is…She doesn't even know how they know Finn and Quinn, and somewhere along the way she decided she doesn't care, either.
Noah is quite clearly the only person at the table worth talking to, so she…Well, she basically wraps herself up in that, in every way that's appropriate. She sits close to him and he has his arm around her chair. He steals a bite of her salad, and feeds her a taste of his soup, which she's positive is made with chicken broth, but she doesn't think one spoonful will kill her. She insists he try her risotto and he laughs when she turns her nose up at his offer to try his salmon.
"I can't wait for cake," she says, and Noah's watching her mouth. He licks his lips and she brushes her thumb against his thigh. "I love cake."
Somehow he manages to make, "That right?" sound like some kind of seduction.
"Anything with icing, really." He sort of smirks, nods slowly. It feels like they're the only people in the room. "Will you dance with me?"
He sighs like it's some kind of big inconvenience, but then rolls his eyes and nods. She kisses him.
"You're good at this," he tells her after a few songs, when their hands are clasped and sort of pressed against his chest and so is she. She just hums. She's not sure what he's talking about. She's a trained dancer, so it could be that. "Some guy out there is really fucking lucky, and he doesn't even know it yet."
He's speaking against her temple, and it makes her almost shiver. His opinion of her is so high and she loves that, but at the same time, he's talking about other guys and she's here with <>him, and that's…
She's not thinking about anyone else. He's thinking about the end of this…agreement, whatever it is. He's thinking of her being with another man, finding someone else, and she can't see past him. She just feels like if the circumstances were different, if he wasn't what he is and she was't who she is, they might be able to…
She has no idea what she's doing anymore, and there used to be a line there, between them, and she could tell when they were close to it or when she was about to cross it, but really, all she knows now is that she wants the idea of her with someone else to make him blind with jealousy. It's completely selfish, obviously, but it's true. Just because they can't be anything doesn't mean she can't think about that kind of thing. She's allowed to want him to want her.
"You make it sound like I'm some kind of best kept secret." He chuckles a little, but doesn't say anything else, and she says, "Kiss me," because she thinks he should have by now.
He's across the room talking with someone she doesn't recognize when she sits down with her second piece of cake. She can't remember when she lost him, but she knows it was sometime after she grabbed another dessert plate, because she thought the little grin he was trying to hold back was cute. Then she's back at their table and he's rubbing elbows with people and making friends, apparently, easier than she ever has. And god, it's just so effortless for him. He stands there with his hand in his pocket, the other holding a drink, and talks about whatever it is that she can't hear, and everyone just…He's got charisma. She thinks that's the best word for it. Women in the room look at him and the men are jealous of that alone. It's really no wonder that this random man in his bow tie wants to talk to Noah, as if he has any hope of picking up on any tricks or tips just from a simple conversation alone.
She picks away at her cake - cake first, leaving the icing to savour last - and tries not to look over to where he's now got a group of three men he's speaking with. Why does she care so much? It's not jealous of any kind, honestly. He can talk to who he wants to talk to, and she's not so desperate that she needs him next to her right now, when she's not doing anything else. She actually doesn't mind just watching him, wondering if he knows she is.
"Oh my god, my feet are killing me." Rachel smiles and glances over at Quinn, who's flopped down into the seat next to her, huge white dress pressing against Rachel's calves. "What a day."
"It was really beautiful," Rachel says, and she means it. "I'm happy for you."
Quinn sighs, sort of dreamily, and looks to where Finn is dancing with Tina. "I'm so exhausted, but I think it's just my emotions. I could probably go all night."
Rachel giggles and quirks her brow. "You probably will."
"Rachel!" Quinn gasps, then leans over and lays her head on Rachel's shoulder, gathers some of her dress in her hands and lets it go again. "I'm really glad you came."
"Me too."
If you'd asked her a few days ago, that may have been a lie. Now she's not so sure. She's happy to be here for Finn and Quinn, but everyone else, she could still take or leave. All the stupid drama is still something she could definitely do without and plans to leave behind as soon as she's on the plane back to New York.
"Noah," Quinn says, and Rachel assumes there's more, but Quinn doesn't say anything else.
"What about him?"
Quinn pulls away then, looks at Rachel and does this little smile, a genuine one. Rachel's startled by the realization that it's not an expression she's seen much of on the woman's face, ever.
"He makes you happy," Quinn says quietly. No one else is even close enough to be listening to their conversation anyway, but still. "I've never seen you like this."
Rachel knows it's not a dig. It's not Quinn dropping a twisted reminder that Rachel and Finn weren't as happy as they should have been, or anything like that. She's not implying that Finn's happier with her (though he obviously is and Rachel isn't stupid or jealous or naive to that, either.) It's just an observation, like Quinn's saying it because it's something she's noticed and feels is important to point out.
"It's…" Rachel licks the icing from her fork and watches Noah sip his drink. "Complicated."
Quinn just laughs like that's the most ridiculous thing she's ever heard. "What's complicated about it?"
Rachel shrugs her shoulder, looks to her plate, and Quinn drops it because she must know she's not going to get any more of an explanation than that.
Honestly, even if they were best friends, Rachel would have a hard time explaining anything about this situation.
God, she's finding it damn near impossible to even entertain the idea that she's falling in love with this man she's known barely a week. How would she ever possibly articulate that to someone else?