Brittany bounced into school Tuesday morning all set to win over Rachel Berry using the big plan Quinn had helped her come up with the night before. She was especially excited that the plan basically consisted of two things she was super good at, doing nice things, and being herself. She wondered briefly if there was some way to add in the other thing she did best, but she didn't foresee any opportunity arising during school where she would be able to give Rachel a lap dance.
She made a beeline for Rachel's locker intending to wait for her and offer to carry her books, but was instead waylaid by Santana at the Latina's locker.
"Hey B, I've been thinking about a move for the new routine," she began. "I think…oh shit! Nice." She began laughing as she looked over Brittany's shoulder. Brittany automatically joined in the laughter and then turned to see what Santana was laughing at.
As she turned laughing, she made direct eye contact with a just slushied Rachel. Her smile froze in place as she felt her stomach drop at the look on Rachel's face. There was a flash of hurt in Rachel's eyes, and then she was rolling her eyes in a 'whatever' gesture and giving a dismissive shake of her head. She wiped some of the excess slushy off of her face and with head held high turned around heading towards the nearest bathroom.
Brittany was stricken. Rachel thought she was laughing at her, and laughing at someone was definitely not a nice thing to do. She frowned at Santana, "S, that wasn't funny. Rachel is our friend and you shouldn't laugh when people are mean to her."
"B, what are you taking about?" Santana scoffed. "I know I admitted I liked Glee or whatever, but that doesn't mean I'm besties with the Gleetards. And I'm especially not friends with Berry."
Brittany sighed. She hated when Santana used that word. She had hated it even before she became friends with Becky. In fact, she'd hated it ever since Karofsky called her a 'retard' in Elementary school and everyone laughed at her. Usually, Santana was sensitive to Brittany's dislike for the word, but apparently, not today.
Before she could remind Santana of this though, the bell rang and the dark-haired cheerleader linked arms with her and dragged her off to class.
Brittany looked for Rachel all morning between classes and at lunch, but her searches were to no avail. A couple of times she thought she caught a glimpse of brown hair and argyle going around a corner, but by the time she caught up to it, Rachel was nowhere to be found. She consoled herself with the thought that if nothing else, she would be seeing the singer in 5th period and that would be her chance to apologize and win her over.
Things started off less than promising.
When she walked into class, the bright smile she aimed at Rachel was met by cool indifference as Rachel's eyes slid away from hers and back down to her textbook opened in front of her.
Her smile faltered, but not to be deterred, she offered a greeting, "Hi Rachel, you look very pretty today!"
The surrounding students who heard her, snorted and guffawed; convinced it was some kind of dig by the popular Cheerio directed at her social inferior.
Rachel gave the other students a withering glare before she turned to Brittany and offered a deadpan retort, "Thanks Brittany, corn syrup and ice crystals do wonders for a girl's complexion."
The sarcasm shot right over Brittany's head and she just nodded and agreed, "It must, because you have really great skin." She frowned as the other kids laughed outright; still convinced the cheerleader was being sarcastic. Rachel just rolled her eyes and ignored her.
Brittany spent the class time watching Rachel and waiting for her to look over at her so she could smile at her or…something, but Rachel stubbornly kept her head facing front. The blonde knew she must be aware of her attention because every once in a while brown eyes had darted in Brittany's direction and then full lips turned down in a frown.
By the end of class, Rachel was outright scowling and Brittany was flustered and anxious for the bell to ring so she could talk to Rachel and explain. Of course, Rachel was completely uncooperative, stuffing her books into her bag in a rush to get out of class and on her way. Brittany was barely able to catch her by the arm as she fled the classroom
"Rachel!"
Brown hair flew as she whipped her head around to ask with impatience, "What, Brittany?"
"I'm sorry," she said, dropping her hand from Rachel's arm.
Rachel glared up at her, tapping one foot with impatience, "And what exactly are you sorry for? Laughing with Santana at me getting slushied? Saying ridiculous things to me in front of our peers and making me the butt of jokes once again?"
"Yes. On the laughing thing. It was an accident." Rachel snorted in disbelief. "For real though," she tentatively put her hand back on Rachel's arm. "I told you I like you, a lot, and I wasn't trying to be ridiculous, I promise. I was just trying to be nice."
Rachel looked into sincere blue eyes and sighed. "Look Brittany, I appreciate your apology for today. And I believe that you are being forthright with your comments, however, this belief of yours that you 'like' me is, in light of past actions, kind of hard to swallow."
At the confused look on the other girls face, she continued. "It's only been a few weeks since you were defacing my pictures in the yearbook and REALLY laughing at me when I got slushied. And now I'm supposed to believe you when inexplicably you confess romantic interest in me??"
Brittany didn't understand all the words Rachel was saying, but she understood the sentiment and she blushed with shame, realizing the shorter girl was right. She and Santana had drawn horns, and beards, and all kinds of stuff on Rachel's yearbook photos. And even though it had been Quinn who had drawn the porno picture of Rachel in the bathroom; she had laughed along with Santana when Quinn had dragged them into the stall to admire her handiwork. Maybe she wasn't so good at being nice after all.
Rachel took in the expression on Brittany's face. Her eyes seemed to be welling up with tears and her full lower lip was beginning to tremble slightly. Rachel groaned inwardly. She didn't know why she always had to be the bigger person, but right now, looking into Brittany's face, she felt like she had kicked a puppy. She took pity on the other girl and took the hand on her arm between her own.
"Brittany, look, I'm really flattered by your attention. And I would be lying if, despite what I told you before, I said I didn't harbor some curiosity regarding same-sex relations." She hastened to add, "Which is a perfectly normal part of adolescence! But, even if I wanted to explore that, there are still other obstacles to our having a relationship."
"Like what?" Brittany asked.
"Well...like my aforementioned history with you and the Cheerio's. And speaking of Cheerios," she added, "what about you and Santana? I had heard through the grapevine that the two of you were involved."
"That's just sex," Brittany said.
"Be that as it may," Rachel continued clearing her throat and flushing slightly at the thought, "but that may be the biggest obstacle of all. I have no desire to test the limits of Santana's magnanimity in regards to her sexual partners."
At the blank look on Brittany's face, she simplified, "I don't want to get beat up."
"It's not like that," the blonde began to protest but was cut short when the dark-haired girl in question came charging into the classroom. She took in the sight of Brittany's hand between Rachel's and scowled.
"There you are! What are you doing, B!?" Santana said as she grabbed the other Cheerio by the hand, pulling her out of Rachel's grasp. "We're going to be late for practice."
Santana's brows furrowed at the look the two other girls were exchanging. "What are YOU looking at Smurfette?"
Rachel ignored her and raised an eyebrow at the chagrined expression on Brittany's face.
The eyebrow and everything it implied was the last thing Brittany saw as she was tugged out the door by a grumbling Santana. As she was led down the hallway and towards the Cheerio locker room, her final thought on the matter before she was forced to focus in the high-stress environment of Sue Sylvester's cheer world, was to wonder why all the girls she knew had such talky eyebrows.