I'd like to thank Brittanaisgoals for the idea of this story. It's the first story probably in at least a year that I've written in first person so I hope you all like it. I'm thinking this story is going to be around five to ten chapters long depending on where the writing takes me.
Meeting Again
It hit me square in the face before I even knew what was happening. Ice and red dye stream down my face as I blinked my eyes trying to get the ice off of my eyelids. My eyes sting badly, but I try to keep my tears at bay. I don't want to give whoever threw it the satisfaction of seeing me cry.
"Nice one San." Quinn says which makes me cringe as I now know who threw it.
I hear the one voice I dread the most and yet love to hear.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you very much." Santana says.
I end up slammed into a locker by some jocks that must have been following the cheerleaders. I stay crumpled up on the floor until I can't hear their laughter anymore. Feeling blindly as I have lost my glasses and my eyes still burn. When I finally find them, I can feel that they are broken in two.
"Need some help Brett?" I hear Kurt say from somewhere to my left.
"My eyes still burn and I think my glasses are broken." I tell him as he helps me to my feet.
Kurt is also tormented like me by the so called populars. We've been friends since middle school.
"Rachel also got hit." Kurt tells me, helping me into the bathroom. "I'll bring you your change of clothes."
There are about ten of us geeky kids that are friends and the constant targets of the populars. I get hit with a slushie at least three times a week so I always have a set of extra clothes in my locker. Waiting for Kurt I hear the two people who scare me the most right outside of the bathroom.
"Babe that was so hot." Puck says presumably to Santana who he's seeing.
"Did you see the look on that nerd's face? It was priceless. I honestly thought he was going to cry." Santana tells him.
I don't hear the rest of their conversation as they're walking away.
Present
I wake up in a sweat. Sitting up, I stare forward breathing hard. I'm relieved that I'm in my own bed still and apartment. It's been five years since I graduated high school and moved here to New York. I started as a backup dancer and am working my way to a very well-known choreographer. I'm currently choreographing two Broadway shows and teaching at Julliard. No one special is in my life right now. It sucks since in high school I was a complete loser and I haven't had a girlfriend ever. A few one night stands, but nothing serious.
"Brett you up!" Sam, my best friends shouts from probably my kitchen.
"Yeah! I'm coming." I shout getting up.
I grab a pair of shorts and white t-shirt throwing them on. Normally I care a lot more about what I wear, but going to work out at the gym downstairs with Sam I don't. When I get into my kitchen I see Sam pigging out on some leftovers.
"Dude don't you have food at your place?" I asks pulling out a bowl and a box of my favorite cereal lucky charms.
"You know Mercedes is on a health kick." Sam tells me. "So I'll be eating at yours more often until I get my junk food back."
"Then you're helping to pay for it." I joke shoving him.
Honestly I'm so happy that I don't have to deal with things like that. No one tells me what I can and can't eat. Though at least Sam has someone to come home to at night all I have is Lord Tubbington my cat.
"So long as Cedes doesn't find out." Sam jokes back. "Seriously though she can't find out. I promised to do this diet with her."
"Don't worry your secret is safe with me." I tell him.
We head out the door still eating as we head down to the gym. This is my life, working out four times a week in the morning with Sam, going to work and clubbing almost every night. It's a great life, but I'm missing something. I know I'm complaining a lot but I'd really like a girlfriend. I think I'm a catch.
"So hit any hot girls lately?" Sam asks opening the door for us to the gym.
"You would know if you came out clubbing with us anymore." I tell him smiling.
"Well Kurt, Rachel and yourself are all single so you can club every night if you want." Sam says putting weights on the bar.
"Mike and Tina come out with us and they're dating." I point out to him.
"True, but they like to dance and Cedes has to wake up early to go to work." Sam tells me even though I already know this.
"Well ask her to come on Friday then. I miss clubbing with you and it doesn't have to be often." I tell him since I know Mercedes doesn't like to club.
"I'll try." Sam says.
After that we both just lift weights in silence. Being guys we actually prefer the silence as oppose to girls who need to be constantly talking. Our routine is rough, lifting two fifty for fifty reps before moving on to leg lifts, arm curls and a small thirty pound bar. We do this for forty minutes before biking for a half hour as cool down. I would do more if I didn't have to work nearly every day at eleven. Plus I can't be too buff and be an amazing dancer.
"Anything exciting you are working on today?" Sam asks me as we wrap up our workout.
"I'm meeting a new artist later today." I tell him. "I'm really excited as she's an up and coming star. This could be huge for me."
This is extremely big for me. I've worked on Broadway plays, for Julliard and some small time music acts, but this is the big time. If this goes well I'll get more choreography jobs for musicians. I could become one of the top choreographers which is what I want.
"Sounds exciting." Sam says.
I head back to my apartment and Sam heads home saying something about Mercedes wanting him home. Quickly I throw my gym stuff in the corner and change into a gray polo shirt and black slacks. Normally I wear workout clothes to work, but meeting with a new client I try to look my best. My mom taught me that I should always look my best when meeting new people. Really she says everyone, but I don't think my friends care at this point. They saw me in my awkward, skinny no muscle teen years so I know they don't care. Grabbing a banana, I run out to go catch a cab.
On the way out I wave to the girl at reception and give the doorman my megawatt smile. He's been so nice to me since I moved in three years ago and is always grabbing my cabs. In fact there's one waiting out front right now.
"Frank you didn't need to grab me a cab." I say slipping him a twenty even though he dislikes when I do it.
"You don't have to give me money." Frank tells me trying to give it back.
"Buy some flowers for your wife." I tell him opening the cab door. "I'll never get how you know when I'll need a cab." I shout before getting in.
"Where to?" the cabby, a young African-American man asks.
"Sixty-seventh and pine, and there's a fifty in it for you if you can get me there in under a half hour." I tell him.
"Can do sir," the cabby says.
I always try to be nice to everything around me, but especially people who work in the service industry. I can imagine that there are a lot of assholes out there and it could easily be me working as a cabby or doorman so I'm just nice to everyone. The whole cab ride, I go over the routine that I threw together after being given one of the artist demo songs. They apparently haven't decided what the artist will go by so I don't know her name. Normally I'd want to know the name of the artist so I can look them up, but I know the manager and trust him.
When the cab pulls in front of the studio is when the nerves start to kick in. I almost told the cabby to keep driving, but thankfully I think better of it. Since he got me here in twenty I give him a fifty. Starring at the door, I'm not sure how long I stand there but it must have been some time. My feet just won't move. Taking several deep breaths, I push the door open. With each step I feel more confident. I'm one of the top choreographers this artist is lucky to have me.
"Brett so glad you made it." Elliot the manager says walking over to me.
"I'm ready to meet this mysterious artist." I say holding out my hand for Elliot who shakes it.
"She's excited to meet you and get started." Elliot tells me.
"Have you all decided on a name yet? I'd really like know." I honestly tell him.
"Santana," Elliot says opening the door and standing there is none other than Santana Lopez, the girl who tormented me all throughout high school.