☠︎︎　　“ it’s a totally stupid cliche anyways. ”  noemi didn’t seem the type to analyse any choices indy put forward if they hadn’t given the disclaimer, but now wasn’t the time to find out. “ i haven’t really given this assignment much thought, but i was listening to recipe for disaster by honey revenge recently. they do these oh oh oh bits towards the end of the chorus that made me think of jet pack blues. fall out boy. except the verses would require a lot of tweaking. they’re much slower. ” which definitely sounded like someone that hadn’t thought about it much. “ or where did the party go might be a better fall out boy song. ”

then followed by the shake of her head. “ chiller options, ” they said out loud, as if it would magically pop something into their head. between the piano and general vibe, she figured her partner might want something a little . . . less. “ i like halsey. mainstream enough for the others to still enjoy. did that new version of britney’s lucky — do you think it’s cheating to mash those up ? ” they took a step back, figuratively and literally.

"I don't... really like pop music," she said awkwardly, and in a way that she didn't hope to offend Indy. It didn't seem like they were into it either, but Noemi wasn't trying to ruffle the feathers of their partner today. And well, not liking pop music was a bit of a lie. She liked older stuff: Kate Bush, Sinéad, and her mothers would probably smite her if she said a word against Selena.

"Do you know Amyl & The Sniffers?" Noemi inquired, more out of curiosity than out of a desire to perform one of their songs for their mash-up. When Indy mentioned Bikini Kill, her ears perked up a bit, and she even sat up a little straighter. "I like that. Reject All American. But, no Olivia, everyone does Olivia," and well, Noemi didn't want their manic pixie dream girl card revoked, "What about American Idiot?"

　　☠︎︎　　indiana would never admit it ,  but there were upsides to the presence of more overbearing new directioners. a shield, a scapegoat. an explanation for any thing above bare minimum. realistically, they did not fear pissing off any show choir god — or whatever else stella and julian would swear were natural consequences. perhaps true considering those two were the closest they had.

so she let them drag her by the hand. more work for them. ( unfair if she didn’t think they actually kinda liked bossing people around ! ) an apathetic shield. “ hey. ” it was how they could justify active participation in mash up week without looking too eager. noemi booked the space for them, so there was no need to show initiative. thank god.

"I don't really have a song that represents me," Noemi admitted. At least, nothing that would be fun. They knew everyone would do Broadway hits or Top 40s from the last forty years, and she was sure a rendition of one of her own original pieces or Weird Al's My Bologna would not bode over well with their peers.

"But I can harmonize with almost anything," she added, tapping her fingers absentmindedly on the keys to play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. "Do you have a pick?" Always a follower. Maybe if they knew Indy's, they could bounce off of that.

miss eleanor took it upon herself to host an extra practice for new directioners... and nobody showed up! she's totally crashing out now, so. good luck!

"I was here," they said meekly. She was slightly embarrassed for not saying anything sooner; Noemi should have known when she showed up late that nobody else had come for a reason. They weren't going to all miraculously appear.

"I think they're kind of scared of you." Astute observation!

money had been tight this semester. it always was, but emery was really feeling it. she didn't want to pick up another thing on her plate, but she knew she couldn't ask her mom for help. she was already on a work-study and as many scholarships as she could have picked up, but there was not a ton out there for girls who almost made the top 20% of their class. so, a regular old boring job it was.

When it was her turn, she looked up just as Emery's words tangled over themselves. "Chill, it's just me," she said. "Oat," she added, a little more gently. The Ibarra-Reiz's lived in a strictly vegetarian home, and while she had been on her own for the last few years in college, Noemi would sneak a chicken sandwich from time to time; there was one thing that remained a constant. Oat milk lattes. "No rush."

Noemi's gaze drifted towards the notebook on the counter. One little thing between them. Besides a shared love of music, the pair had a shared love of songwriting. She peeked her head over the counter, big brown eyes fixated on it. "Anything new?"

An invitation: the bloom in his chest grew into a garden, sprouting up in his nerves, stoking excitement. He took the bait, in step with her down the drive like they were tied to one another. 

“Who, me?” Shepherd shook his head, laughed along with the motion. “I’m a dream.” He’d never been called very lousy when it came to company— especially not with a joint in his hand. “What about you, Noemi Ibarra? You a very good smoking partner, or am I signing up for something I’m gonna regret later?” 

A part of it made them want to recoil and retreat. What would come of this Monday morning? Was she going to have to melt into her chair in the choir room every time she saw him after tonight? Was he going to brag to his buds about how he got that quiet girl in Glee to hook up with him?

She didn't break eye contact when his gaze dipped, and didn't respond to it either, something Noemi was exceptional at. She had a professional poker face. She did continue stepping backward at the same pace, her boots scuffing lightly against the concrete. "You're doing a lot of marketing for yourself, dreamboy," she said, the nickname dripping from her mouth like honey. Maybe they did know what they were doing. Even lonely girls... got lonely?

"I'm efficient," they answered, which was Noemi's way of saying that she wasn't going to freak out on him. She finally let the lighter slide out of her pocket, tossing it in his direction, forgoing her previous statement of not having one. "That good enough for you?"

They definitely were not talking about smoking.

"6'5," Shepherd scrunched his nose at her- it was almost taunting. "Looks like you're safe with me: it's the guys pushing 6'7 that you really have to worry about." 'Don't you have friends?' Technically he was surrounded by them- brothers, at least. Beta Rho Bros' were crawling all over the place, and the more... popular kids from St. Rivera were wandering. It didn't really matter, though. There was a task at hand; and an expression on Noemi's face that made him want to-

"You're not really a stranger." And she wasn't, in his eyes. Maybe they hadn't exactly spoken to each other before, but they were part of the same team. Two people who would be expected to rely on each other at some point, even if indirectly.

He let a moment pass by. "So, what's up? You don't smoke, or you don't wanna smoke with me? Makes you feel any better, I could toss you my ID, tell you one of my deep dark secrets," He probably wouldn't. But he'd never been too bad at making things up. "Get acquainted. Call it team building."

At his mention that they weren't really strangers, she shrugged her shoulders, bashful. "We share sheet music, that's not the same thing." But he had said he wanted to get acquainted. "Good thing you're attractive." Not a pickup line, and it was not a fruitful attempt at flirting. If anything, Noemi felt like they were stating the obvious and was egregiously aware that he'd know that fact about himself.

"And I'm already on my way out, so if you're wanting to team build," she started stepping backward slowly, waiting to see if he'd take her bait. They didn't need the ID or a dark secret, for now. "Depends," she deadpanned. "Are you a lousy smoking partner? Because I don't like mollycoddling."

“Oh, only when I wanna get them alone,” He raised his eyebrows at her, amused. “Or when I don’t feel like hanging by myself.” That was the ticket– party full of people, and somehow, Shepherd had ended up in a corner with another Glee kid. Something about it screamed, ‘lonelyboy15.’ “Must not get a lot of invitations, huh? Giving off a real… Stranger Danger vibe there, Noemi Ibarra,” Shepherd said it like it was nefarious– he’d read it on the New Directions call sheet enough times to know.

As much as they could have just turned on their heel, Noemi couldn't find herself moving away. Partly because it would be an uninteresting thread if I did so. "Don't you have friends?" Another curious inquiry that she dropped almost as soon as she said it. She looked tired in a way that didn't match a house party setting. Just a vague, detached look. Bored, almost. "Nothing screams stranger danger more than inviting a stranger to your car." They may have been in Glee club together, but Noemi couldn't recount a time when they had actually spoken to each other.

"No," she said, echoing a bald-faced lie. She did keep a lighter on her person at all times, and if Lucas was smart enough, he'd see its outline in her jeans pocket. The invitation, too, of going back to his car was enough to decide that she did not want to give it to him, smoke with him, or be alone with him. Surely he was an okay guy; he had invited the sad band of losers here after all, but they weren't exactly looking forward to being a Dateline episode.

"Do you invite people to your car often?" Good looking out, Noems! That's the perfect way to catch a serial killer!