Disclaimer: Piece of fiction that is not profitable .
A/N: this was written in first person POV. I hope it works.
It's Brittany, Bitch.
Okay Aliens who can read minds/whoever it is that can tap into my inner narration. These are my verbal memoirs you're about to get the in on. We can call them either My Mom's Genius Cupcakes or How to Get Santana Lopez Naked.
Maybe we should call it something more general so it can relate to the hypothetical general audience?
That's it!
This, my imaginary friends, is How To Date Your Crush In High School And Stuff. By Brittany. I'm Brittany, by the way. Brittany Pierce. I'm purposefully not mentioning the 'S' initial in my middle name and all the expectations and baggage that come along with being closely linked to a famous nineties pop star… because that's a little too personal. You'll have to make do with just knowing about my senior year romance and feelings, maybe a little bit of my hobbies. We'll see.
I'll just wing it.
Okay. Here goes.
Once upon a time there was this chick, Santana Lopez.
No. This isn't working. I'm going to use my mind time machine and just send my mind back to the day things started to change, relevantly speaking. Enjoy the depths of my genius mind, bitches.
/
Santana Lopez was insanely hot. She had boobs, she had ass, she had abs, she had –
"Brittany? Are you there? Britt?"
"Huh?"
Oh. It's Quinn. Hi Quinn.
"Hi Quinn."
"Hey," Quinn smiles at me before sitting down next to me on the stadium bench facing towards the football and track fields. "You were zoned out for a second there," she tells me.
And I kind of am.
Only because Santana Lopez is standing nearby, and oh my god now she's lifting her shirt up to wipe her sweaty face and her sports bra underneath is so sexy – not that she isn't sexy because she is - she should just take off the shirt and run without it on like I mean clearly the shirt is making her feel sweaty and stuff so… yeah. Take it off.
"You stay up late studying?" Quinn blows on her coffee. She loves coffee. Even on hot days like today where I'm on my fourth cold drink. Coke Zero is a lie by the way. There is still coke in it, not zero coke like you would think.
"Hmmm," I say because now Santana Lopez is taking off her shirt like I wanted – clearly my telepathy skills have gotten better – and tossing it aside so that I can see her black and gold bordered sports bra and what it's keeping a secret from the world.
Only it's not really a secret to me exactly because I got a glimpse (total accident, I swear) this one time in the locker room when we were both about to have a shower last year.
Plus everybody has boobs and I've seen a lot in person or through internet browsing. Even boys have boobs except they have, like, boy boobs. But Santana has amazing boobs. They're—
"Perky bitch," Quinn says next to me, texting on her phone. "How Rachel can be so fucking energetic all the time I will never understand."
I'm a teenager and teenagers have the right to be horny so I don't feel pervy admiring Santana's compact figure and C-cup breasts.
And yes, Rachel Berry is a perky bitch. She must get laid all the time. Who knows, who cares. I'm going to lean back and watch Santana exercise.
"Fucking A," I'm interrupted from my Santana prayer time by an asshole, also known as Noah Puckerman, "Lopez is so fucking hot. Shame she won't get with me."
"She's gay," Quinn tells Noah. "As in she'll get with you when you have a sex change, Puckerman."
"Calm down Quinn, I was just saying…" he whines.
"Don't get a sex change," I tell him because I don't need the competition. It's heartbreaking enough that I chickened out of asking Santana on a date when I found out she was gay. I lost my chance to that weird Laura girl who cheated on her with the football team or hockey team, depending who you ask.
Santana is single, I think. But since she's that good looking she probably has a girlfriend or fuck-buddy. And we don't talk so… I'm probably not her type.
"I won't," he says, sounding annoyed andglaring at Quinn who glares back but gives me a high-five for some reason.
I don't really get what their problem with each other is but ever since last month, around Tuesday at three thirty p.m. or so, they've been at each other's throats like this. I don't really care but they are disrupting my holy worship time.
Usually I've come up with a fantasy scenario where Santana and me are a perfect couple. You know? Like last week I was her superior officer in a super secret military op and we fell in love. It sounds like a porno, but it's not.
Okay so that other time where I imagined her as my student was but that was a before-bed fantasy, totally different category of fantasies involving one's crush.
"Sweet merciful Lord," Puck groans out loud because Santana's doing these arm stretches now and has her lip pulled between her teeth from the pull on her shoulder.
And… I think I'm on the verge of orgasm. I mean, she looks like she's photo-shopped to perfection. I know things about Photoshop because I like cameras and shit.
"Bwuh…" I mumble because my tongue got numb imaging Santana on her own verge of the big O.
"You okay Britt? You're not getting sun stroke again, are you?" Quinn asks me.
"It's the heat," I tell her because it's funny how she prides herself on reading people's thoughts and can't tell what I'm dreaming about right now.
Which is Santana Lopez all naked under my bed sheets with me. Naughty, topless hugging.
I'm so lost thinking about how Santana Lopez would feel all up close and personal, that I don't notice her greet us.
Like, she's walked over and is standing right there.
"Hey," she nods and I cough. A lot.
Quinn pats my back and says to Santana, "hey Santana. Puck over here was just getting an erection over you."
I laugh, because Noah goes red in the face and looks incredibly embarrassed. Santana scrunches her face in disgust and says, "gross, but not a surprise… Martinez had a pop quiz before lunch so..." she warns us since we have Martinez last period.
How nice is she? Giving us a heads up. I mean, we're not really friends or anything (we used to play together at recess way back when). We've all gone to school together for ages and are in Glee Club together and our Glee Club is a like a family that fights all the time and ever since Santana had her growth spurt after the tenth grade and wore contacts more than her glasses and quit chess club and beat up Rick 'The Stick' with his hockey stick for calling her a dyke… she got too cool for friends and too hot for me to talk to. But at least she knows I exist, it's not like I'm entirely hopeless here.
"Fucking pop quizes," Quinn says bitchily.
Santana shrugs, as confused as me with Quinn's intense hate of pop quizzes. "Anyways," she says it like we're wasting her time when she was the one who came over here in the first place. How cute is that? "Um, Brittany-" HOLY SHIT THAT'S ME! "-I was hoping to get a copy of your Math notes? I'm behind."
She wasn't in class for three days, which made Math boring because she sits in front of me to the right and looks so cute while jotting down notes. Sometimes she nibble on her pen and sometimes she zones out in class and looks at he clock like she can't wait for it to end.
I have to compose myself before I can say "Sure…"
Success. I didn't sound like I wanted to jump her lady bones, I sounded like a calm robot.
"Thanks," Santana gives me a small smile before it drops from her face just as quickly. She adds just before leaving us with a serious, "I'll see you in Glee Club then. To get those notes."
I think she was trying to be threatening but it doesn't work on me the way she hoped because when she threatens people like she did that Dalton kid who tried to blackmail our Glee Club, it sets my vagina on fire.
(Metaphors aren't really my thing, I should come up with something less 'in your face' and more poetic.)
Maybe that is still a threat, but like a different kind? I don't know. I would ask Quinn if she wasn't such a virgin about things.
I hate to see her go but… I love to watch her leave. She's so fucking hot. Her ass has ass-sway. I need to touch it someday. Bucket list.
"Bitch," Quinn says to me. "She couldn't even ask you nicely for Math notes."
I'm pretty sure that was her asking nicely. She's actually nicer to me than she is to most people because she doesn't call me names and she told me I dropped mittens once a couple of years ago.
I think Quinn is just jealous of how easy it is for Santana to be herself, out and proud, running her gym laps in a sports bra with her L'Oreal commercial hair extensions swaying in a ponytail…
"She didn't even acknowledge me," Puckerman huffs, "I thought lesbians weren't man-haters."
"You can't blame her," I defended her behaviour towards him and told him, "you're gross and creepy."
It is what it is.
"Fuck this," he grabs his backpack and clunks down the stairs to leave us. Finally.
"I can't believe I ever had a crush on him in fifth grade," Quinn says to me.
"I thought he was cute when he never opened his mouth and spoke," I say to comfort her. That's what friends are for.
She smiles and starts rummaging through her bag for something.
"Anyways," I say to Quinn, "I need a date to the Fall dance."
I don't think Santana likes dances, otherwise I would totally ask her. Well, I would pretend to ask her or at least think about it. I don't want to embarrass myself because what if she said no? If I managed to muster the courage to ask her, I mean. She'd probably say no, even though she's decent in Glee.
I guess we dance in Glee all the time but that's Glee. The school dance would be like, a date, and just the two of us without Glee Club dancing along. No choreography or random moment when Santana smiles in my direction for stage presence. Or sings like and Angel and ignites my—
"Clit," Quinn says.
"Did you just say clit?"
"No! I said shit!" she clarifies with a giggle after swallowing her coffee, "I burnt my tongue… So you're going? I thought you didn't want to go because you said you didn't want to go?"
Quinn leads the way to our lockers which were inside and that sucked because I wanted to sit outside and catch more sun while ogling Santana. If only I picked this block for gym instead of the other one I could be doing that right now every other day. For school credit.
"I don't want to go," I said, "but that doesn't mean I'm not going."
I never said I wasn't going, Quinn could be silly sometimes.
She sighs at me and I triple-check my schedule to make sure I don't go to the wrong class because sometimes I do that.
/
"You still dating that kid in the wheelchair who's Decathlon with you?" Dad asks me at dinner that night.
"No," I said, "I broke up with him last year." And technically I didn't date him. I just let him think we were dating.
"She told us this already Doug. Why did you break up with that sweet boy Brittany?" Mom asks me, because she's obsessed with charity and thought me dating Artie was charity. She's ridiculous, and half the reason I broke the non-dating off with him. The other half is because of recurring killer robot nightmares.
"He was boring." Which is the other-other half of the reason.
"Do you have any new guys you like?" Dad asks me while chewing on his Hamburger Helper.
I shrug.
"Girls?' He asks me with a chuckle, because he and my Mom are cool with me playing the field. I think.
I mean, they say I should be open to love whoever I want to, like my Uncle Ben who has a new boyfriend every other month. He's cool though. Promiscuous but not a slut. He buys me clothes when he visits.
They did say all this after they caught me making out with some chick at Aunt Patricia's wedding reception, like, under a table. It was hot.
Our neighbour calls them hippies ever since I went streaking in her backyard when they took me off my misdiagnosed ADD meds a few years ago, but she lives with twenty parrots and her thirty-three year old son lives at home in her basement on her welfare. I don't think she's lived life and my parents just want me to smile. I don't like her by the way. She sucks.
"Kind of," I tell my parents, because my crush on Santana hit a whole new level, which I didn't think was possible, when we actually spoke alone for a minute after Glee Club today to exchange notes for Math class.
She was all 'hey. Thanks for the notes by the way. Later.' And I even said, 'yeah no problem.'
Talking to her wasn't as scary as I thought and according to the Muckraker archives on Jacob Ben Israel's website which I swore to never read but read because I was too curious… Santana and the ho-bag Laura broke up because Laura ditched her for Rico the Quarterback. What a stupid girl. If I had Santana, I don't think I'd ditch for anybody. Rico isn't even in Santana's league, why downgrade? Laura clearly wasn't thinking.
Anyways, Santana took my notes home and was going to return them tomorrow. I just hope she doesn't find my notes confusing because I copied the board but since I pretty much always don't listen to the teacher and solve things my own way, I don't know what it is I copy down.
"Is it that basketball player with the buck teeth?" My Dad asks because that's the only lesbian he can think of. He sounds weary. "She's frightening."
"No, Dad. And don't be so mean, it's not her fault she's on horse steroids."
He shrugs.
"Then who is it?" Mom asks, intrigued.
"… She's in Glee," is my only hint since they've been to all of my Glee competitions since the club formed last year and we won Nationals. We were kind of a big deal in Lima because of that. I don't think Quinn and I were even real friends until we joined Glee together. Puck even got more tolerable.
Yes, this is why I believe in miracles. Glee Club.
Me and eleven other kids who would otherwise never talk hang out, sing, dance, and all that bonding shit. Santana is in it too, one of the reasons I had the courage to join as a freshmen when it was loser town death sentence and not elite.
She always says mean things to people, but she's never said anything mean to me. People think she's a bad person but I don't think she is.
I wish I could know what she thought of me.
"Is it that tiny girl who sings amazingly? Because you told me she called you stupid," Dad gets all serious, not a Rachel fan since I shared that story with him.
Rachel was actually kind of a friend of Santana's, so that really hurt when it happened. What if Santana thought I was stupid because her friend thought so?
I hope not. I really want her to think I'm like, normal and cool and pretty.
"Not Rachel, thankfully I managed to like someone less annoying and way hotter. And not straight," I add because my parents had to talk with me about making moves on straight girls when I got upset in freshman year that a girl I liked had a boyfriend. She got weird with rehab and old guys though, so good thing I dodged that bullet. Her loss.
"The Lopez girl?" Mom figures it out. "That poor girl who got outed by that vindictive asshole Joel Nelson on the local news?"
Mom gets all Wonder Woman sometimes. Her and Dad love superhero stuff. It's why I never invite dates over to spend the night at my place or in my room (even though I'm allowed and my parents keep condoms and latex gloves in my night dresser), because depending on the wash cycle I either have old lady white and pink roses or Catwoman figurines on my sheets.
Santana's Mom, by the way, is our city Mayor. So last year during the elections everybody at school found out Santana was gay because Rick the Stick Nelson's Dad who had a nastier red mullet than his son told everybody as much during a debate on television about running the hospital or something, and Santana's Mom didn't deny it.
Santana had a tough year after that, especially from Rick and his hockey teammates, but she's stronger than she looks and Mrs. Lopez is still our Mayor so… fuck the Nelsons in the ass, somebody.
"She's really nice to me," I say, because that's all she's ever been to me, when she acknowledges my existence. I wish I had more to say but I don't know and I probably never will. "But I don't know if I have a chance. I don't know much about her."
"That is a pretty young woman with a great voice," Dad says. "Just ask her. Worst case scenario is you get rejected."
"That's the only scenario," I correct him, not feeling very hungry anymore. He reaches over and pats my shoulder.
/
So last night I lost the debate and Mom made cupcakes for me for Santana, since I find recipes puzzling. And, with these cupcakes, I'm going to try and get into Santana's pants.
"Have a nice day at school," Mom kisses my cheek and giggles, "text me what happens! I'll be at the spa."
"Okay." I have to say, I do feel kind of excited with what might happen. There's a chance Santana will submit to my hotness and cupcakes if I can say an actual sentence and not a monosyllable word.
She's gay, I'm right up her alley, right? I hope she's not like into that whole butch-femme dynamic. I don't think she is, I mean Laura wasn't butch and Santana was with her…
I go right to her locker so that I don't forget to give her the cupcakes, and then I stand there. She's not here yet.
"Are you lost?"
I turn around and Santana is looking at me oddly.
Then she says, "oh right! Your notes. One sec."
"These are for you," I say, shoving the tin box into her arms.
"Huh?" she stares at me for a long, long moment before looking down at the tin I totally smashed against her lovely boobs.
She's shorter today, I think I shoved the box into her boobs thinking they were where her stomach would be. Oops.
"What?" She says again. She peeks inside the small tin box and looks at me again. "Cupcakes?"
"Duh," I give her a funny look. "So, um… I was wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime maybe like on a date date… sometime?"
I was supposed to say something smoother but at least I said something that covered the basics.
She doesn't say anything, she just keeps on staring at me.
"Well… you're speechless. Just to make sure, um, you heard what I said right?"
She nods and then looks back at the tin of cupcakes.
Shit. Mom said I should at least frost them and I didn't do the most spectacular job because I started eating the frosting and had to spread it thin. And, like, they were pink. Maybe she doesn't like them?
"So?" I say, waiting. If she hasn't said 'no' right away she might actually be considering me.
Or just that disturbed. Damn it.
"A date," she says. "Me and… you?"
I frown at her, because I don't like that tone. It hurts. "Don't sound so excited. Just forget it, then. And give me the tin back tomorrow."
"Wait!" She says as I turn around, about to storm off in dejection.
I pause and turn back to look at her, feeling really embarrassed and annoyed. Why does she get to be so adorable when she's turning me down? Why does this hurt so much?
"Thanks for the cupcakes and… I would um… Yeah, sure. Why not. A date."
Shut the fuck up.
Why are parents always right?
Making sure my hair was framing my face the right way obviously helped me out, as well as my lucky suspenders. And I think Santana is blushing.
Score. Bitch be flattered by my cupcakes.
"Awesome… see you in Glee." I can barely contain my excitement so I skip off to first period and high-five some people on the way.
Senior year is the best year already.
/
Glee Club that afternoon is awesome. Santana takes a seat next to me, even though it's the only seat left and she came in last, but she even returns the smile I give her.
"So what should we do on our date?" I ask her when Rachel and Finn start singing their duet for Sectionals coming up.
She leans in with a cute frown and says, "um… dinner?"
"Lame. Let's do something funner, like a picnic."
"O… kay?" She agrees, looking at me with a nose scrunch and, holy shit, an amused smile.
She's beautiful when she smiles and I think she thinks I'm cute.
I think, knock on wood, that she finds me attractive.
"Brittany, Santana," Mr. Schuester calls us out, "it's not very polite to talk during a performance."
"Yeah, fall asleep like the rest of us," Puck says.
"If it's a performance idea let's hear it," Mr. Schuester says, trying to make an example of us.
Santana looks at a loss of what to say so I speak up for the both of us.
"Sorry Mr. Schue, we were just discussing our plans for a date."
There's a bunch of 'what's!' and jaw-dropping and gasping, so I add, "not that it's anybody's business."
Kurt claps his hands happily, "yay! Another Glee couple."
Santana covers her face with a hand so I tell her in a whisper, "you're cute when you're shy."
To make her feel better. I think it worked, who knows.
/
Santana avoids me for a while. She skips Glee the next day and isn't on my radar at school, but then again I accidentally took too much of my antibiotics and forgot to leave the nurse's office so I missed most of the school day myself because I had the best nap ever.
Eventually the two of us cross paths in Math class last period. I got another A on my test, I would have gotten an A-plus if I showed my work more but writing it out confuses me. I just know the answers, so…
I poked Santana with my pencil and then when she looked at me I threw a paper ball at her face.
She got the hint and opened it up, making sure not to get caught.
Only she got caught.
"What's that in your hand Santana?" Mrs. Reese points at her. Then she snatches the note out of Santana's hand and clears her throat before opening her mouth.
Shit. I freeze in terror because that note says –
"I can't wait for our hot date tonight, kisses Brittany."
Mrs. Reese turns red and there are shocked gasps in class.
Why we produce shocked gasps in and out of Glee Club, I don't know.
Santana turns to look at me and I give her my best nonchalant shrug that I can muster and she just sighs before slumping back in her seat.
Dating in high school is hard.
After Math, Santana disappears which hurts my feelings. I grab all my shit from my locker and try to remember if Mom is picking me up or if Quinn offered me a ride or if I'm in the mood to walk.
"Brittany, care to share light on the rumours that you and the infamously mean but total hot babe campus lesbian Santana Lopez are going hot and heavy and were caught exchanging sex notes and nudes in class?"
I really hate JBI. He stalks me. It's gross.
"Um…" I try to keep up with his words, "I don't have a flashlight?"
Some people listening in laugh at me and it's something I've gotten used to so I ignore it. I don't get it though, because he asked for light and I don't have any.
Then some higher-being blesses me because JBI's microphone is just smacked to the ground and his camera guy gets shoved into a locker and the laughter stops.
"Fuck off Jewfro," Santana sneers at him.
And he fucks off.
"Thanks," I say, hesitant because I'm pretty sure she's mad at me.
"Everybody's talking about us," Santana says to me, grabbing my hand and pulling me closer. "And I have to admit I think you're actually serious about dating me."
Of course I'm serious about it. I think we'd not only look good together, but also have great chemistry. Like, hooking up and stuff.
And hello? I've had a crush on her for-practically-ever. I'm super close to getting with her and I want it so bad.
I give her a look, "I really like you okay?"
The secret is officially out.
Santana lets go of my hand and, after staring at me weirdly, opens up her locker to grab her stuff. "Want to go to the mall?"
"Now?"
"Yes, now. It can be our first date. I have to return something and… then I'll buy you a smoothie or coffee or whatever the hell it is you drink on a mall date. To thank you for the cupcakes, which were delicious by the way."
Good things happen to good people so it's official… I'm a good person.
I take out my cell phone and text my Mom that I'm going on my first date with Santana at the mall and that her cupcake plan worked.
"I'll drive," Santana says. "If… that's cool."
I grab her hand and reveal to her, "I have always wanted to make out with you in your car."
She tries to keep up with me and stutters, "for real Brittany, how long have you felt this way about me? It kind of came out of nowhere."
I roll my eyes, because what a weird question. But still. She's so sweet, and when she's close to me like this she's not untouchable but a very real girl I want to get to know.
"I've always noticed you," I tell her. "I was just too scared to try anything."
She takes in a breath and it hitches, like she can't believe anybody would ever have feelings like that for her.
"Um…" I giggle, feeling shy now that I've shared too much. "So yeah."
She tugs on my hand so that we walk towards the parking lot and she says, "you're like, the only person that doesn't piss me off. This could work."
How romantic is she.
/
I could talk about the date, about how we both clearly have different tastes in everything but still got along and recited practically the whole Bring It On movie to each other at one point in giggles…
But I'd rather talk about how we made out in her Subaru. Because that is something worth recalling.
I made the first move, obviously, because Santana is apparently too chicken to tell me I'm pretty and gets all shy around me ever since I gave her cupcakes and confessed that I like her.
But at least she told me the cupcakes were delicious without me having to pry it out of her, so she really wasn't as guarded as I thought.
She was cool with following the lead of my mouth and totally didn't oppose AT ALL to how I straddled her in the drivers seat. The steering wheel was like, digging into me, so I pressed close to her and I'm better at this dating thing than I gave myself credit for because she let me touch her boobs. Under the bra.
It was amazing. Santana would gently caress my back and waist, and then she even asked if she could kiss my neck and I let her even though it tickled at first. It got really hot within seconds.
I started rocking into her and her car isn't that big so it started rocking too, and then her mom called and since Santana's iPod was plugged in playing Backstreet Boys through the car speakers the ring tone loudly cut in and jolted us.
But still.
I loaded all the bases, and Santana was clearly into it. I would have fucked her if her mom didn't ruin the moment. I mean, I was so close, and now I just wanted to get closer.
I guess dating the right person is easier than you'd think.
/
"So you're dating her?" Quinn asks me, because Santana just walked by and gave me a nod.
It's her thing. She gives me nods, like we're sharing secret no one else can know, and I smile and then she tries not to smile and texts me in 3, 2, 1…
Aw, she wants to know if I can meet her in the auditorium during our morning break from classes. She's so adorable.
"Yep," I tell Quinn.
"Well," Quinn doesn't comment like I thought she would with 'you know she's a major bitch right' which is kind of surprising but then again not really. Everything about Quinn is surprising so it's never really surprising. Instead she tells me, "Laura is back from suspension."
"Laura who?"
"Your girlfriend's ex?"
Oh yeah. That Laura.
"She was suspended?" I ask, worried because Santana mentioned Laura did dump her for Rico and maybe Santana wasn't over her because she wasn't the one who did the dumping and if Laura was gone on a suspension than maybe that's why she's been out of the picture and will soon be re-entering it.
"Yeah," Quinn looks at me funny. "She was suspended because Sylvester caught her doing crack in the bathroom."
"She dumped Santana though," I say. "And Santana said good riddance."
"Hmmm," Quinn grins at me coyly, "well according to the Muckraker Laura regrets dumping her for Rico because she was drunk when she cheated with him and didn't mean to do it."
"Really?" I wonder out loud, "it has nothing to so with the fact that Rico broke his arm and won't be getting his football scholarship anytime soon?"
I felt bad for him, because apparently Laura had no shame and just chased after popular people who were doing things with their life.
Later that morning, when Santana and I are grinding against each other on the floor between seats of the auditorium, the bell rings too soon.
"Damn," I whisper, stealing another kiss before standing up.
She's breathless and wobbles to her feet. Her hair is all over the place and her lips are swollen from my eager attack, but she seems content with how we're getting along and so am I. Things are looking good.
"Hey, um," she says as I pick up my backpack and shoulder it, "you want to like, come over… for dinner. Friday?"
I blush because I'm totally capable of having steamy make out sessions with her and trying to see how far I can get, but the actual dating part still catches me off guard because only in my dreams did she ever want to spend time with.
"I, I mean…" she stutters, "my mom said… like, if you think it would be weird-"
"No! I can totally make it," I say.
I'm not dumb, even though people think I am. Santana's told her mom about us and clearly her mom approves.
Chances are very high that Santana would actually let me do her in her room so hell yes I am skipping the dance Friday to—
Wait. The dance.
"Can we go to the dance after?" I ask Santana. "I love dances."
She stares at me, and I'm about to repeat myself but then she says, "the Fall dance?"
"Yeah." She looks very spooked still. Weird. "You know how to dance right?"
"Wouldn't you rather skip the dance and…" I feel my heart beat wildly, hoping she's going to end the sentence with something slutty, but instead she just emphasizes, "well, skip it?"
A little crestfallen – which is one of the words I've had to look up in the dictionary because I still don't understand how exactly it works but whatever – that she doesn't want to dance with me. I'm really good at dancing, everybody dances with me. I choreograph some of our Glee routines.
If Santana is going to be my girlfriend she'll have to dance with me sometime, but I can work on that later. For now, I'd rather get laid and sacrifice the school dance Friday night. There would always be prom.
"Sure. Dinner sounds really cool, and your mom is a total MILF."
"Gross."
"Sorry but not really sorry. I'll try to never comment on that again."
"Appreciate it."
"She's really handling the city construction contracts well though, total badass Mayor."
"Say that to her face and we won't have to sneak you into my room," Santana teases me.
She walks away and I fist pump because that, ladies and menly-men, is an open invitation to Santana's Chamber of Secrets.
/
Mom drops me off at Santana's house Friday night. Since the auditorium romp we made out once in Santana's car and shared smiles in Math class, and she gave me her sexy nods in the hallways and the Muckraker posted a photo of us near the Janitor's closet suspiciously looking like we just hooked up but FYI that was photo-shopped because at the time it was claimed we were actually discussing our favourite flavour of Jell-O through what I think was flirtatious texts while I faked sick so I could help Tubbington hunt the mouse in our house.
Anyways, Dad bought some nice lilies to give Santana's mom who was cooking us dinner from the supermarket and mom did my laundry just in time for my lucky thong to be worn tonight. It's black. She says I'm too innocent for thongs so I tell her that I hate panty-lines to make her think that's why I wear them. I'm pretty sure she believes me.
So I'm totally ready for tonight, even though I'm super nervous.
Santana answers the door before I muster the courage to ring the bell.
"Hey," she smiles at me and steps aside so I can go in.
I smile back and then wave at my mom so she knows we found the right house. She drives off and I raise the lilies.
"I hate flowers," Santana grimaces, "but you look really nice."
I smirk at her because that was all I needed to hear. I put a lot of effort into looking nice, I want to make a good impression on Santana's mom – not just because I want to fuck her daughter while I have these intense feelings that are probably going to lead to our future marriage which I've already imagined will take place in the Sahara Desert while we ride camels, but because she's the Mayor and I've always been interested in politics.
"I curled my hair in the bathtub to make sure it got the right bounce."
"Well, I stuck a metal fork in the socket to make sure my eyes popped," Santana says back at me.
This is why she is so perfect and going to be my wife. She gets my humour.
I lean forward to kiss her lips but her mom appears and so we both jolt back.
"You must be Brittany," Mayor Lopez looks just like she does on local TV. She's wearing a tweed grey suit, a jewelry set of pearls, and a turquoise silk blouse.
"Hi," I feel my cheeks flush, holding up the lilies. "These are for you to um… thank you for having me over."
She totally loves them, taking them out of my hands and saying, "I love lilies, Brittany. How nice of you to bring them, thank you very much."
She stares me up and down and I feel nervous all of a sudden. What if she doesn't like me? Will Santana stop dating me?
"Your dress is very pretty," she says to me.
When I faked sick yesterday, I went to the mall and bought it. It's white with very tiny horizontal blue stripes and gold buttons. I'm glad she likes it, it makes me feel more relaxed.
Santana sighs, "now I'm underdressed."
I think she looks really hot. She's wearing what she wore to school: very tight black jeans and a one-shouldered silky white top with a long gold necklace. She's a total beauty and is always overdressed for school like a runway model but, like, shorter than most runway models.
She's not underdressed. I shake my head at her and she grins, just a little, like she knew she actually wasn't.
"I hope you like salmon?" Mayor Lopez says.
"Yeah. That sounds good."
Santana catches my eyes as her mother walks off and sticks her tongue out at me.
I giggle at her and swat her arm. Her very smooth, bare, was totally around my waist the other day, toned arm.
I end up kind of feeling her shoulder to her elbow, and it must have some kind of affect on her because she leans up to kiss me.
She smiles as she lets my lips fall away. She does this weird pouty thing every time we kiss which always makes me smile, and then her lips feel like totally ah-may-zing and I smile even wider every time we make out. This is the first time she smiles back at me like that, and I like it.
I'm growing on her or something.
She grabs my hand and leads me to where the dining table is already set up. I take a seat and Santana takes a seat. Food is already steaming and it smells really nice. Her mother appears with some serving spoons and three cans of soda.
"Sparkling water okay? If not we have juice and flat spring water."
Ohhh. Not soda, but sparkling water. I like bubbles so… cool.
"That's good thanks."
I put a little bit of everything on my plate, mostly copying Santana who keeps passing me things to put in my plate. There's salad, vegetables, baked salmon, mashed potatoes… a feast.
'This looks really good," I say before joining in to eat. "Where do you find the time to cook so much when you work so much?"
She smiles at me and pours my sparkling water into a glass, "it's hard, but if I don't cook Santana eats microwave noodles and Doritos."
Santana is silent and rolls her eyes before digging into her food. She's so cute and OH MY GOD I just noticed that she cut her nails! They were longer this morning when she lent me a pen that I didn't actually need, and now they are pretty much blunt. Let's be real, we all know what that means.
I have good karma.
"So Brittany," Mrs. Lopez says after we all eat for a while, "what do you do? Hobbies, sports, anything?"
"Um," I swallow my nervousness down with the bit of carrot in my mouth and glance shyly at Santana, "yeah. I like to keep busy."
"She's on the Academic Decathlon and in Glee Club with me," Santana says for me.
I nod along, adding, "we're called The Braniacs… but Glee Club is way more fun."
"Wonderful to hear, Santana likes Glee Club as well. How is that going? I haven't made it to one of the competitions yet but National Champions is a great title. I'll try to go to Regionals."
"You should," I say excited. "Santana's got a solo."
Mayor Lopez looks at Santana and says, "that's the first I've heard of it."
/
Dinner was delicious, and Mayor Lopez is super cool. She shooed us off so she could put the dishes away and told us we could go upstairs to watch a movie in Santana's room but had to leave the door open.
"Are you mad that I told your mom you had a solo?"
"No," Santana leads the way up the stairs and lowers her voice, "I was trying to think of ways to tell her so she would come. I just… I dunno. Couldn't do it."
We enter what I'm pretty sure is her bedroom. The walls are painted black and its very sexy inside. Her bed isn't made up and it looks really inviting. It also smells really good in there.
"Cool room," I feel excited and jump through the threshold, eyeing up her shelves and desk.
The dark colours make it all seem very sexy.
Santana sighs and jumps backwards on her bed, "let's make out."
I put down the picture I found of her and her mom standing on a bridge with smiles and skip over before jumping face-down next to her.
She smiles at me, raising an eyebrow.
I giggle and then scooch forward so that I can lean over and kiss her.
She lets out a soft moan and rubs her hands up and down my back gently, tickling her fingers over the straps of my dress. The tip of her tongue comes out to play and I meet it with mine, moaning at the sounds of our wet kisses and heavy breathing. Damn is she good at it. I hope I'm good too.
Santana angles her head and urges me onto my back. I turn over and she fits a leg between mine, grinding with just enough pressure to make me sigh. I want this to keep on going and I want her to want me, so much.
With a gasp because I've taken a hold of her very perfect ass, she starts pressing gentle pecks along my throat and her right hand skims down my hip.
I close my eyes and am very glad I gave up the Fall dance to be here. This is just what I need, from the person I need. I grab her snail-slow hand and drag it under my dress.
She moans at my eagerness and asks, "you sure?"
I roll my eyes because hello, Santana, I'm the one who put your hand there. Yes I'm sure.
She kisses me on the lips again and then says, "shhh, we have to be quiet. My mom's going to watch TV because she doesn't want to come up and interrupt our movie that she thinks we're watching."
I nod, unaware that I was making noise. Because I know what's up, I tell her to, "keep kissing me."
She sighs and rubs her nose along mine before angling herself to kiss me again. I reach down and lift up her shirt and she struggles with her arms for a second before chucking it behind her and resuming her caress to my inner thigh.
She pauses to look me in the eyes before cupping me with her hand.
I take this moment to really feel up her shoulders. I've spent more time grabbing at her boobs than any other part of her and I really want to make out with them later too, but I just want to know everything. She's so perfect and she's lying on top of me like a dream come true, giving me what I want.
"You're so hot," I whimper honestly, trying to thrust into her hand.
"Fuck," her breath hitches and she nibbles very tenderly on my ear and her fingers toy with my G-string. "You're wearing a thong."
I Let go of her shoulder to reach down to wiggle and lift so my dress is scrunched at my hips so that she can see for herself what I'm wearing.
Santana looks down in lust, taking in the sight of my dancing legs and waist.
I grab her face and kiss her, but she breaks away and then I realize why before I can complain.
She's going to go down on me.
She kisses my inner thigh and gets on her knees at the edge of the bed so her face is at level with my...
Oh…
This is so hot.
I cover my mouth as she presses a kiss to my lady-part. Holy fucking mother of fucking shit goddamn I need to be quiet but it's hard because she's she and she's—
"Fuck!"
Santana is the best girlfriend ever. She tosses a black pillow at me so that I can press my face on it to muffle the sounds I can't help making, and then pulls the edges of my thong down my legs so that there's nothing between us. I clamp my thighs around her head and…
You know how it goes.
/
I hooked up with Santana a lot over the weekend. We banged in her Subaru, we banged on her Subaru (when it was parked in her garage and her mom wasn't home so that the garage echo could be put to use), and we even banged in my room when my parents went to visit my Aunt Gladyis two hours out of town.
Santana actually liked my Catwoman sheets, but I think she lied about that because she wanted me to finger-bang her.
Banging her lives up to my fantasies. She's not afraid to ask me what I want and she delivers with skills I honestly didn't think she had. It feels really good with her, not empty or uncomfortable.
Right now, we're about to bang in the choir room. The lights are off and I'm pressed against the door so that I can keep a look out for someone coming our way.
Santana has one hand pressed flat against the door near my head, and her other hand (she's a lefty) is two fingers in, pumping me from behind.
I think I love her already.
"Add another," I pretty much demand. "And bite my shoulder. That'll be hot."
She pants near my ear and complies with my first request which, fuck yes. "You're wearing a wool sweater," she says with a quick kiss to my neck. "I ain't biting that."
"Fine," I don't really have the energy to take it off and I get not wanting a mouthful of wool. Next time, I guess.
She nuzzles my hair and then says softly, "You close Britt?"
After that murmur, I am definitely closer than I was two seconds ago. She's got a ways with words when we have sex. I think it's all in the raspy way she tries to be sweet and not dirty.
"Almost," I thrust back into her to pick up the pace because I can feel that special moment get closer and now I need it, desperately.
The bell rings at the same time I do.
I pull my jeans back on and take a few deep breaths to relax myself before Science.
Santana spins me around and kisses me on my nose, "give you a ride after school?"
I giggle and grab her ever-firm ass to pull her closer. "We have extra Glee practice after school, remember?"
"Oh right," She breaks off our kiss and relaxes her arms over my shoulders. "Forgot."
"I'm pretty sure we have the best sex life at this school," I tell her as we let each other go to pick up our backpacks and leave the choir room. Kids are bustling in the hall now to get to the nest class so we slip into the masses easily without being noticed.
I have always wanted to get my sexy times on with Santana Lopez at school, and now that she's my girlfriend it's happening. Thank fucking whoever we share a spare on this school day in the cycle in the new trimester, because now I get to make a calendar and coordinate it so we can gradually fuck in every room of the school.
These thoughts might indicate I have an inclination to public sex, but I mean it's not like I do it in front of people. That's gross. It'll just be awesome to have Glee Club now in the choir room and associate it with the memory of a great Santana Orgasm. I could have that all over the school and it could be our romantic thing or whatever.
I could give her the list for Valentine's Day.
/
I know that people get uncomfortable around me. They don't understand my sense of funny, they don't think I know what two plus two is even though I get The Braniacs a perfect score in the Math section every time we compete, and they don't know that I pretend not to care when they laugh at me.
I should have known that something would ruin my new happiness.
Not Santana, she's perfect. She treats me with respect and listens to me and can tell when I'm being serious.
But Santana's ex is a whole other story.
"Hey Brittany, is it true you thought Will. . was President?"
That is how I officially meet Laura, her taunting me about my rumoured stupidity.
For the record, I know who our President is. I was just trolling Mrs. Hagberg that one time in History class and thought her asking me that question was dumb, so I gave her a dumb response and in the process probably helped push her towards early retirement. I'm a good citizen.
So Laura is my competition. She has red hair that looks stupidly nice and flowy, but she's a horrible person so I'm pretty sure I'm winning our competition.
Plus Santana told me that kissing me was like eating a mouth-watering steak after being starved for days, total inner equilibrium or something. I don't know what she meant exactly and am probably misquoting her because I was busy with, you know, her cleavage. When she's under the influence of my talented tongue she tries to be romantic.
"She said what to you?!"
It really makes me feel special when Santana gets so defensive over me. She is turning out to be the best, easiest friend I've ever had.
We're sitting in her car because we left campus to grab lunch at the Burger King drive-thru. Santana claims to dislike fast food but she actually likes it.
"That fucking bitch," Santana crumples up her Whopper's wrapping paper and looks at me, "tell her to fuck off, Britt. Seriously."
"What's her deal anyways," I ask Santana.
"What do you mean, she's crazy. End of."
"No… like, is she gay or bi or curious?" Is she a threat or not, is what I want to know. She clearly wants Santana back if she's trying to poach me.
"I think curious," Santana says.
'Then why is she trying to win you back?"
"She is not trying to win me back. I'm pretty sure she doesn't give a fuck if I die or live."
"She's jealous, Santana. It adds a drama factor to our relationship but it's unnecessary."
"Well what do you want me to do about it? Beat her up? I can't do that even though I kind of want to… I slept with her so isn't that like post-domestic abuse or something? I can threaten to beat her up if you want."
"No," I take the big coke we're sharing a sip on it thoughtfully. "I'm just saying, is all. I think she actually wants you back. You're hot and I'm hot and it's being rubbed in her face."
"The Muckraker is total shit," Santana says to me. "I know Laura. She's into dudes, she used me for some big prank attempt and dumped me to humiliate me. It didn't work because I pretended not to give a shit, so maybe she wants to try it again to mess with me. She does not want me back."
"Okay," I hands Santana the coke and she takes a sip.
After a few moments, I decide that the fact that Santana doesn't see what I see is annoying me.
"How about a bet," I offer. "If I win you can do to me whatever you want when we rent a hotel room for prom-"
"We're going to prom?"
"Of course we are."
She pouts, I kiss her cheek.
"It's months away Santana, you'll come around."
"So then this bet," she lowers her voice and catches on to my idea. "If you win?"
"Than I get you however I want."
"Okay. And we're betting on Laura?"
"Yep. I say she wants you back…"
"And I say she won't even give us a glance in the hallways."
/
So, yeah. That's pretty much how Santana became my one true love. I hope you enjoyed my trip down memory lane as much as I did.
In case you were wondering…
Yes. I won that bet.
Fin.