It starts with a kiss, not one they share together but one they witness; one that changes everything. He's done with Rachel and all the crazy that comes with her. His heart just can't take it anymore.
It's worse for Santana because Brittany's the first person she's ever let get close enough to matter. She hides it well, spends the rest of the night grinding against Puck and making out with Mike, but he can see the way her hands shake every time Brittany tries to explain. She curls them into fists to try and mask it but when Rachel tells her she's being unreasonable her fist flies into a nearby wall and he knows that had to hurt.
He follows her out of the party and even after three years of Mr. Schuster's Spanish class he has no idea what she's muttering under her breath as she paces the front yard. "Come on," he offers holding up his car keys and pointing to his beat up Blazer parked at the curb. He's sober and based on the way she's cradling her hand she's in need of some ice. He doesn't think either of them is willing to go back inside in order to get it.
She hesitates, eyeing him like she's waiting for the catch. He smiles and she shrugs and then they're both heading towards his car so he figures at least something's going right.
Her parents are out. He gets the feeling that it's a pretty regular occurrence, that she has the house to her self more than not. He thinks that must be pretty lonely.
"I don't need a babysitter," she grumbles pulling a bag of frozen peas out of the freezer and laying them over her bruising knuckles. "So you can go."
"I don't really feel like going home and there's no way I'm going back to the party. Maybe I can just hang here?"
She sighs like she's irritated but he can see something in her eyes that tells him she's grateful for the company. He takes a step closer, fiddles with the corner of the pea bag, and asks, "Can I see it?"
She lifts the bag away and he takes her hand, letting his thumb lightly glide over the blue and yellow shading her skin. She sucks in a sharp breath when he touches a pretty nasty cut and he mumbles, "Sorry," before leaning in and kissing it softly.
"What was that for?" she asks when he lets her hand go.
He looks away because he can feel the burn of embarrassment settling in his cheeks. He chuckles nervously and shrugs a shoulder. "For letting me stay I guess…tonight kind of sucked."
She nods, letting out a deep, exhausted, breath. Her shoulders slump forward and her hair drifts into her face and he doesn't think she's ever looked more beautiful—or broken.
My place tomorrow, 5 o'clock…bring trunks.
Santana's father throws an annual Fourth of July cookout for the hospital board and lets her invite a few friends over in order to keep her out of trouble and in line. He's never actually been invited, not until now, but he's gone once with Puck and once with Quinn so he knows what the text is about.
It's hot. Ohio's in the middle of a massive heat wave so everyone's huddled in or around the pool. He spots her almost immediately, lounging in one of the chairs scattered about the yard, wearing a white bikini and oversized sunglasses. He ambles over to her because she's the only person he's seen that he knows and taps her shoulder to get her attention.
She pulls an ear bud out of one ear and scowls up at him. "You're blocking my sun there Jolly, Green Giant. You mind?"
He moves around to the other side of her chair and drops the towel he brought from home onto the ground beside her before sitting down. "Anyone else coming?" he asks before she can put the ear piece back into her ear.
She shrugs nonchalantly, "I invited Puck but I told him to leave the hunchback at home so who knows."
"That's not very nice."
"Neither is a fat chick in a bathing suite." He laughs uneasily as she pushes her sunglasses up on top of her head and rolls her eyes. "No, I invited everyone from glee club even the losers so someone other than you better show up."
He'd be offended but he knows she doesn't mean it, if she didn't want him here she wouldn't have invited him. "Even Brittany and Rachel?" he asks curiously.
She smirks, a crooked, little, evil smile that kind of prickles his skin. "If they're stupid enough to show their two-timing, slutty faces…" She lets the threat hang in the hair as she repositions her sunglasses over her eyes and goes back to listening to her iPod.
Everyone shows up, even Rachel and Brittany, and he keeps a close eye on Santana just to make sure she doesn't trip one of them into the deep end or take a pair of scissors to their bathing suite strings. He can tell she's avoiding them because she's mingling with her father's peers and pretending to be interested in the medical field even though she's wanted to be a lawyer for as long as he's known her. It's kind of her dream and he really can't see her doing anything else.
He looses sight of her while he's talking to Artie about the two week football camp that Coach Beiste has slatted for the beginning of August. It's going to be brutal but he's looking forward to getting back on the field. When she reappears she's wearing a yellow sundress that ties around her neck and leaves her entire back bare. She's barefoot too and her hairs pulled up off her shoulders and clipped into place. She's drinking out of a red plastic cup that he's pretty sure has alcohol in it and catches his eye over the rim, smiling softly and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He likes this side of her.
As the sun sets she makes her way over to him, wedging herself between him and the porch railing. He settles a hand at the base of her neck, letting his thumb trace the curve down to her shoulder.
Most of the older crowd has left and the rest have ventured inside for a night cap so he lets his hand trail down her spine, coming to rest on her hip. She leans back against his chest as the first fireworks light up the sky and he kind of doesn't hate being this close to her.
He's got her in his bedroom, sprawled out on his bed, flipping through a magazine he knows she found tucked between his mattress and boxspring. He'd be embarrassed but she's not making a big deal out of it so he figures he shouldn't either.
Burt's working on her car, something to do with a broken belt and worn brake pads. He offered to pick her up at the garage so she wouldn't have to wait around and Burt said he'd bring her car by when he was finished with it. That's how they ended up at his place.
"Last month's center fold was a lot hotter," she says pushing the magazine to the side and looking up at him. "I'm bored."
"We could play Mario Kart or something?"
She crinkles her nose up in disinterest and shakes her head no as a mischievous look washes over her face. "We could make out," she offers pushing herself up onto her knees.
He grins childishly because he's wanted to kiss her since her father's cookout; the opportunity just hasn't presented itself. He steps closer to the bed as she moves back against the pillows and when he's hovering over her all he can think about is the feel of her lips moving over his.
It doesn't go much further than kissing but she does let him slip his hand up underneath her shirt. Her skin is smooth and her lips are soft and it's kind of nice to make out with someone who knows what they're doing especially since he doesn't really have a whole lot of experience.
She pulls away first and he's kind of hurt but also kind of grateful because neither of them are really in a place where they should be hooking up. He knows she still cares about Brittany and after all the Quinn and Rachel drama this year he should probably think about staying single for a little while. It still sucks though because she tasted like cherry popsicles and now he's hungry.
He manages to talk Santana into going bowling with Puck and Lauren one Wednesday night, or bribe her really—dinner at Breadsticks and a date to a black tie charity event her father's forcing her to go to. The night starts off fucking awful because Santana refuses to wear 'rented' shoes and Lauren complains that the food at the snack bar is inedible.
Puck keeps dropping Rachel's name too and saying how she's still upset that Finn broke up with her. He didn't. She kissed someone else and then it was just over. They haven't really talked about it and he figures that's kind of his fault but he's been busy and maybe avoiding her a little. Apparently he's not the only one getting annoyed with the conversation though because Santana tells Puck to shut the fuck up, that knows shit all about the situation.
"Yeah, Puckerman," Lauren agrees, surprising both him and Santana. Puck looks a little uneasy too. "Shut your stupid pie-hole and freaking bowl already."
Things get better from there. Santana puts on his bowling league shoes (he's the only one that's every worn them) and he laughs when she steps up to bowl, rolling the ball granny style straight down the middle of the lane to land a strike. She does a cute little dance and high fives Lauren on her way back.
"You know you're supposed to put your fingers in the holes right?" he asks when she shits down beside him as Puck steps up to take his turn.
"And ruin my manicure?" she questions holding up her newly painted nails. "No thank you."
He laughs because sometimes she's such a girl and she kicks his shin playfully underneath the table.
She comes to a couple of his practices, sits on the top row of bleachers, and pays more attention to the Cheerios than the football team. He asks her about it one day when they're sitting in her car outside of his house.
"You could go back out for cheerleading you know, if you really wanted to."
She leans her head back against the head rest and grips the steering wheel a little tighter, "Coach Sylvester would never let me back on the squad, not after I choose glee club over Nationals."
"She let Quinn rejoin after Beth."
"That was different. Quinn can do no wrong."
He doesn't mean to laugh, but he snorts harshly because he's dated Quinn, twice, and she can definitely do wrong. "Do you miss it?" he asks because he honestly can't imagine not playing football. The few weeks he'd been cut from the team last year had been horrible. He loved the game and wanted nothing more than to be able to play.
"The five a.m. work outs, being verbally abused by a sadistic coach, muscle aches and back spasms?" She cocks an incredulous brow but then her eyes soften and she admits honestly, "Yeah, I miss it."
There's a party at the end of summer and since Kurt's volunteered to be the designated driver he lets himself get drunk. He's kind of stressing about college and grades and being stuck in Lima for the rest of his life and he needs a little escape.
Santana's drunk too and he assumes it has something to do with Brittany and the way she's nuzzling into Tina's neck causing the girl to giggle uncontrollably. It's a whole big scene that's drawing everyone's attention. Everyone except him because he can't take his eyes off Santana.
She ducks down a side hallway and he follows, watching as she retreats into the bathroom. He waits outside until she opens the door to step out and then gently pushes her back inside.
"Hey," he says softly cupping her face in both of his hands as he backs her up against the door.
"Hey," she replies her hands curling into the fabric of his tee shirt.
"You okay?"
She nods and bites into her lower lip. "Better now," she concedes and then adds, "Stop being such a pussy, Hudson, and kiss me."
He does. It's hard and hot and tinged with Tequila and he wonders why he didn't enjoy this when they hooked up sophomore year. She pulls him flush against her and he has to brace himself against the door to keep from crushing her. Their tongues tangle and they both groan as he presses against her thigh, letting her feel how hard he is—for her.
Two weeks into school Rachel calls him and he has to admit that he sort of missed the sound of her voice. It's soft, and sweet, and full of talent but he doesn't want to have this conversation because he's still not sure how he feels about Santana. They're not dating but there's definitely something there and he thinks maybe he kind of wants to explore it.
"I miss you," Rachel whispers into the phone.
His heart breaks a little.
"Rachel, don't," he warns switching the phone to his other ear. "You made out with Brittany, which okay is kind of hot, but we can't keep doing this to each other. A relationship shouldn't be this complicated."
"Do you love her?"
He doesn't ask who she's talking about because he already knows. "I don't know. I think I could."
He should have known she'd turn their conversation into an excuse to perform a solo in glee club. He's not amused.
Do you hold her all night long?
Do you sing her our love song?
Do you kiss her lips until love makes her weak, oh darlin'?
Do you promise her the moon?
Does she think loves coming soon?
Does she know each move is made from memory, oh darlin'?
Every time you touch her (every time)
Every time you touch her think of me
When she reaches out for you, the same way my arms do
Does she know the truth your love belongs to me, oh baby?
Do you wonder in the dark if she sees into your heart?
Do you close you eyes so she will never see, oh baby?
Every time you touch her (every time)
Every time you touch her think of me
Nights were never made to spend alone I can wish you love,
Do you hold her all night long?
Do you sing her our love song?
Do you kiss her lips until love makes her weak, oh darlin'?
Every time you touch her (every time)
Every time you touch her think of me
Santana's pissed. He can see her fuming from the corner of his eye, arms crossed over her chest, and eyes narrowed into tiny little slits that are practically burning holes into Rachel. For the life of him he can't figure out how he keeps getting himself into these situations.
He tries to catch Santana before she leaves the choir room but Rachel steps into his path and then Santana's out the door before he can stop her. He moves to step around Rachel but she moves with him and he's really not in the mood for this.
"Why did you have to do that?" he asks angrily. They've been playing this back and forth game for over two years and he just doesn't want to play anymore.
"I love you Finn and you love me even if you're pretending you don't."
He rolls his eyes because seriously not everything is about her. "Rachel you have to stop this. We have to stop this. It doesn't work out, for either of us."
"But…" He doesn't let her finish just pushes past her and heads out into the hallway.
For two weeks she ignores his phone calls, skips rehearsals, and avoids him in the hallways. He hates it. He was getting use to her being around and not having her there kind of sucks.
He's moping and he's not too proud to admit it. He hangs up from leaving her another voicemail and practically jumps out of his skin as the door to his bedroom bangs open and she storms inside.
She shoves violently at his chest then wraps her hand around the back of his neck and drags him in close until their lips are touching. It's hurried, and hungry, and desperate, and not at all the way he wants to be kissing her.
When she pulls back it's to take a deep, shuddering breath and rest her forehead against his. She sighs and swallows roughly, refusing to meet his eyes when she says, "Please don't be in love with someone else."
"I'm not…I'm not." He insists assuredly pulling her closer and wrapping his arms around her. He kisses the top of her head and then rests his chin there as she buries her face against his chest.