Santana stared at herself in the bedroom mirror, chocolate eyes fixated on her own reflection. She pondered upon her red mini dress—it was simple, strapless, and silk, her breasts perking hopefully out of the cups, the fabric fitting tightly over her toned stomach. It curved around her hips and ended halfway down her upper legs, leaving most of her legs revealed. The dress was the type that she wouldn't be able to cross her legs in, it was too formfitting. Nor could Santana really bend down, unless she hiked the dress up above her ass. Black stiletto heels and a black clutch completed the look. Was it too much for a New Years Eve party? Puckerman's invite on facebook had said, "dress to impress".

What he meant by that was that all the girls should wear expensive slutty dresses and the guys would wear a button up shirt or something that could pass as acceptable for semi formal occasions. It was like middle school dances all over again.

Santana put her coat on the bed, on top of the rest of the piled outerwear. She looked around Puck's parents' room, wondering if there was any booze she could pretend to have brought for the party. There wouldn't be any, of course, because Puck would have already nicked it. Where were Puck's parents, anyway...?

She heard the music pumping from the living room, bass so loud that it rattled the window panes and picture frames. Truth be told, Santana did not like to party. She knew that when men were drunk, they would make more advances on her than usual, and she wasn't sure she liked it. Most girls loved when men were all over them. Santana felt guilty and a little bit in denial that having a boy strattle her, tell her she was hot, and "do the deed" wasn't what she wanted. However, if it were a girl…

Santana physically shook her head. No. That wasn't right. She was just going through a phase, she told herself. All girls have a phase where they don't like men. She was so used to saying that to herself that it was like a memorized chant in her head.

Santana smoothed her loose flowing hair, put on a final touch of lip gloss, and walked from the bedroom down the hall. She could feel the eyes of boys on her as she entered the living room.

On facebook, the invite had been for about one hundred people. All of them had shown up, it seemed, and then some. The room was packed. Couches were already filled with couples making out, and going further. People swayed to the beat of the music, sipping their beverages, grinding up against strangers' bodies. Warmth in the room was creating steam on the windows. Santana realized she was one of the only freshmen at the party, even though Puck (a freshman himself) had hosted it. But Puck had friends everywhere, and knew everyone.

Santana migrated naturally over to the crowd of girls who were at table designated as a bar. They were all Cheerios, as was Santana, but Santana was one of the only freshmen that had gotten on the team. Practices for the winter team had started last week, and Santana had only met these girls once before that. She knew that in order to assert herself as more than a scrawny 14-year-old to the seniors, she would have to make good impressions.

"Heyyy," she said, nudging her way into the circle. The girls were already drunk, and were just taking a round of shots as Santana entered their midst. The seniors swallowed the hard liquor, and laughed.

"Hey Santana!" a blonde girl said loudly, hugging Santana around the waist. Santana could smell the booze on her breath. It was Rachel Pierce, a senior, who was captain that year. All the other girls turned to look at Santana. They all looked as if they belonged in strip clubs, having worn dresses that were even more revealing then Santana's.

"This is Santana," Rachel said sloppily to the other girls, as if they hadn't known who she was from the first Cheerios practice. "She's a freshman! One of the only ones to make it on the team. She's got mooooooves!"

There was another blonde, younger girl next to Rachel, who looked as if she was embarrassed. Santana recognized her from the first Cheerios practice. Just as Santana gave the girl a look down, Rachel grabbed the girl by the shoulders and said, slurring her words, "Santana, this is my sister! Brittany, this is Santana, the other freshman on the Cheerios!" Then Rachel shoved Brittany into Santana, and nudged them (less than subtly) out of the group of older girls. Santana's breasts knocked with Brittany's, and she practically toppled over.

"Oops, sorry!" Brittany said, grabbing Santana for balance. Santana's heart swooped unexplainably without warning. Then Brittany realized that they had just met, and took away her hand. "Sorry about my sister, too," Brittany apologized, "she drinks too much whenever we're at parties."

Santana smiled. "It's fine," she said. "I know we just got introduced, but I'm Santana."

"I know that!" Brittany said, as if it were obvious. "Dude, we're on the Cheerios together. Freshmen represent!" She lifted her hand for a high five, and then realized it was stupid.

"Sorry, I'm a little drunk too," Brittany admitted. Santana couldn't have cared less.

"It's cool, I needs to get me something," Santana said, turning back to the bar table. She poured some vodka and cranberry juice together, and turned back to Brittany. It was then that she noticed how beautiful this girl looked.

Brittany was wearing a tight yellow dress that brightened her freckly complexion. Her hair was in a loose ponytail, but wisps of bangs had fallen out and were gracefully framing her face. Brittany smiled, noticing how Santana must have been staring.

"You look great," Brittany said, blatantly looking up and down Santana's body. Santana admired her forwardness.

"Well, so do you!" Santana said lamely. What was wrong with her? Usually she was so smooth and outgoing when meeting new people. What was making her so shy all of a sudden? She took a huge gulp of her drink.

"I've watched you a bit in practice," Brittany blurted. "You're a great dancer!" Santana found this ludicrous, seeing as she had watched Brittany too, and knew for a fact that Brittany was the best dancer she'd ever seen.

Santana felt the vodka start to kick in. She felt bold and unstoppable all of a sudden. "So come on!" she said, grabbing Brittany's hand spontaneously. "Let's fucking dance!" She liked the way Brittany's hand curled around hers automatically, and Brittany grinned.

Not letting go of her hand, Santana pulled Brittany onto the middle of the dance floor.