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"I'll call you tomorrow, I promise." Rachel smiles, closing her eyes as Jeremy leans down, dropping a kiss on her nose. It's a strangely innocent gesture, considering that she's wearing little more than one of his t-shirts and a pair of sleep shorts. Considering they'd come home tipsy the night before and immediately retired to her bedroom for a...well. It was nice. A nice night. And judging by the way Noah and Santana talk about it, Rachel's sure she should have something other than the word nice to describe her sex life but it's really all that's ever come to mind. Jeremy tugs her close for a real kiss then and she leans up on to her toes to return it, before moving away to shut the door behind him and head into the kitchen for something to eat.
Generally, Rachel would feel iffy about having sex in an apartment with such thin walls, knowing that she has a roommate (one of the advantages to she and Kurt not sharing an apartment, even if they are best friends). But lately, Noah's been bringing home (and isn't it funny that she thinks of this place as both of their homes now?) a string of strange women. And having very loud sex. Rachel doesn't even really know how you manage to have the kind of sex it sounds like Noah is having on a twin bed. At least Rachel can pretty much guarantee that her sex with Jeremy last night was no where near as disturbing to Noah's sleep patterns as his is to hers.
And that's the only reason it's bothering her, really. Noah's allowed to do what he want. Sleep with who he wants. It's just that he's keeping her up...really. That's all.
Opening the fridge, Rachel grabs the orange juice and a few eggs, humming The Bitch of Living as she sets about making herself some scrambled eggs. Thank god for no longer being vegan. Scrambled eggs are definitely one of the best inventions ever.
Generally, Rachel would feel iffy about having sex in an apartment with such thin walls, knowing that she has a roommate (one of the advantages to she and Kurt not sharing an apartment, even if they are best friends). But lately, Noah's been bringing home (and isn't it funny that she thinks of this place as both of their homes now?) a string of strange women. And having very loud sex. Rachel doesn't even really know how you manage to have the kind of sex it sounds like Noah is having on a twin bed. At least Rachel can pretty much guarantee that her sex with Jeremy last night was no where near as disturbing to Noah's sleep patterns as his is to hers.
And that's the only reason it's bothering her, really. Noah's allowed to do what he want. Sleep with who he wants. It's just that he's keeping her up...really. That's all.
Opening the fridge, Rachel grabs the orange juice and a few eggs, humming The Bitch of Living as she sets about making herself some scrambled eggs. Thank god for no longer being vegan. Scrambled eggs are definitely one of the best inventions ever.
