Suggested listening: Ancora Qui by Elisa Toffoli
Crescendo
To gradually become louder.
My name is Santana Lopez and I am the best damn violinist around, also I hate Quinn Fabray. It's not because everyone fauns over her 24/7, or that I am attracted to her against my free will; it's because she gets to be the lead 1st violin, aka concertmaster, when everyone knows I am more talented than her. I had hoped that getting into the prestigious San Fransisco Musical Arts Academy would be where the discrimination ended, but like many times in my life, I was wrong. What discrimination, you ask. No, it's not that I'm a lesbian. (Hello! San Fransisco.) It's because I am left-handed.
You may say at first, what a silly concept! But think about it, visualize a large symphony orchestra. Now, notice how all the stringed instruments point in the same direction, ever wonder why? Correct, because they're all right-handed and anyone who played left-handed was discouraged so much that they quit. They try to make excuses like, it's not aesthetically pleasing, or your bow could poke someone's eye out, but it's all bull. So if you ever come across a left-handed violinist, it's cuz they're freaking amazing, fought tooth and nail, and refuse to give up. That's me.
I practice so much that I no longer have finger prints on my right hand and I'm almost positive I have premature carpal tunnel in my neck. It's all worth it though to be where I am today. Even if I am currently hidden in the back row as a 2nd violin, the equivalent of a back-up singer, and Quinn Fabray is directly in my line of sight, sitting in my rightful spot. Her presence fuels my hate-fire.
"Santana honey, please quell your rage. I can feel you staring daggers at me again." My inner monologue is broken by speak of the devil. She lowers her instrument and looks over her shoulder at me. I focus on controlling my breathing as she meets my gaze head-on, making my chest jump, and gives me a wink. Ungh! Damn her sexiness.
"Enjoy it while you can, Lucy, it's the only way you'll ever be feeling me. But I bet you're into that sort of thing like all the other desperate housewives who read 50 Shades of Grey." I shoot back at her with disgust dripping. We hear the doors open and our professor/conductor walks in, rehearsal will begin soon.
Quinn turns in her seat to face me quickly with a sickening sweet smile. "Maybe I am into it but you'll never be the one tying me up." She returns to her original position, looking like an angel, as if she never admitted to being a kinky bitch. I try my hardest to focus on the music sheet in front of me and not Quinn Fabray tied to my bed...I fail.
I first met Quinn almost a year ago, the weekend before classes started. It was at a last day of summer party at some rich student's nearby mansion. The music selection was practically everything from 2-Poc to remixed Beethoven and blaring in every room. Some belligerent guy handed me a red solo cup full of questionable liquid that I watered the fake plants with. As my roommate, Tina, and I scanned our environment I realized quickly that I was no longer in high school.
I had come from a one horse town in Ohio where the jocks were always the cool kids and the nerds were the losers. Somehow, in the city, it was reversed almost. The nerds were now the cool kids, in their hipster clothes and thick-rimmed glasses, and the ones who looked like jocks now identified themselves as metrosexuals. Twilight zone. Whatever, I mentally brushed my shoulders off, no matter where I was I was smoking hot and everyone with eyes knew it. Hell, I bet even a blind guy could tell I was gorgeous by my voice alone!
"Come on, Ling Ling. Time to meet our future enemies and frenemies." I grabbed her wrist and pulled her though the crowd, ignoring her stutters about her name.
By the time midnight rolled around, T was finally relaxed (drunk) enough to speak full sentences without sounding like a train and I had successfully won another round of pool. While collecting my winnings from the crying brat boy I beat, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I turned around and there she was, no more than a foot away from me. This will probably be the only time I admit it, but I immediately thought that she was stunningly beautiful... I blame the alcohol that was in my system.
"You seem to enjoy wiping the floor with these boys, would you want to give me a try." Her voice sounded like sex and made my panties damp. I internally had to step on the brakes. This woman, after less than a minute, had far too much control over me for my liking. So, of course, my next line of actions were going to prove to her that she didn't.
"I would enjoy wiping the floor with you, as well Barbie, but you don't look like a challenge." The nameless blonde raised her perfectly arched eyebrow at me.
"Oh, that's a shame." She took a step into me and I involuntarily took a step back until I was up against the pool table. We were about the same height so now that she had me trapped the only place I could look was into her eyes. When I did, I became trapped in a whole different way. Her eyes penetrated and pinned me down with their swirling greens and hazel. I'm not sure for how long I was captivated but I was dimly aware that she started playing with the waistline of my jeans. I felt the ghosting of her fingers on my bare skin and it sent a shiver right through me.
"You'd be surprised how challenging I can be." She whispered while holding my stare. For a moment we just stood there, then as abruptly as she came, the turned on her heels and left. My pulse was pounding up my throat and I felt floored. That woman...ungh! How dare she, she had no idea who she was dealing with. I started my war path in the direction she left but by the time I caught up with her she already was surrounded by a gaggle of testosterone. I watched as she played and manipulated them all like puddy in her hands and that's when I felt this wave of unrelenting emotion well up within me. It was more intense then even my rage that would occasionally consume me, it was so powerful that it had to be none other than hate.
As the night wore on, she completely ignored me and more admirers flocked her way. I felt my emotions start to fester. When classes began and I had to endure her smug smile in nearly every class, the feelings became more acute. When we auditioned for the school orchestra (something that freshmen almost never got in to) and made it, only to find out that I was banished to the back and she to the front, I was zealous. Then when she was named the next concertmaster, after the current graduated, I knew without a doubt that I vehemently hated Quinn Fabray with every fiber of my being.
I was about to enter my dorm when I broke out into a verbal cussing match with myself. I had left my phone at the auditorium after rehearsal. I looked around and luckily no one saw my instant of insanity, except for this pigeon. So I gave the bird my middle finger and marched back the way I came.
Ten minutes later, I am standing in the doorway, just listening. Someone was in there playing a beautiful yet lonely melody that stopped me in my tracks. It felt so raw with emotion that I almost felt embarrassed to intrude on something so personal. But I simply could not live without my phone so I ventured in. As I got closer to the music, I had this nagging feeling in the back of my head like I kind of knew this song. It made me all the more curious as to whom was playing it. Finally, I turn the corner and am met with the back of Quinn fucking Fabray.
Even if she were facing me, she wouldn't know I was here. Her eyes were closed and she was completely engrossed within her tunes. Usually, when Quinn plays, it is with near perfect technique. Straight yet relaxed posture, as if a sculpture made of marble. Now, though, she is swaying along with the music as the heartache of the song is clear in her body language. I tear my eyes away from her and see my phone lying on the table to my right, exactly where I left it. If I wanted to I could grab it and go, no one would know I was here... If I wanted to.
Instead, I find myself getting out my fiddle that I still had with me. At the sound of my case latches, Lucy stops playing and faces me on her feet.
"Satan, what are you doing here!" Her shocked face is slightly amusing and I can't hold back my grin.
"Calm your tits, Lucifer. Just ignore me, like you always do, and keep playing." She watches as I fine tune my strings until I raise my eyebrow at her. "Well? Are you going to play or are you scared?"
Instead of answering me, she sits back down and starts her haunting melody again. She begins softly and gradually becomes louder, after a few seconds I hear my opening. I give her credit for not being startled when I start playing in harmony with her. At first I am just following her lead but then I start to branch out by adding more inflections here and there. At the same time, I start walking towards her until I stand directly in front of her. Her eyes are not closed this time but are watching me like a hawk.
I can hear in my mind where the song needs to go next, it just comes to me, but I want to sit down first. I want to be on the same eye level with her. So, quickly, I move her music stand away and grab the nearest chair. I plop down facing her and bring my violin back up. As we look at each other it feels like looking into a mirror, opposite but the same. That's when I take the lead and play my part of this song. It goes from lonely and pained to exciting and hopeful, it's like a dance and if I had to say which kind, it would be a tango.
Tired of playing the original melody, Quinn copies my movements a half note behind me. The echo effect we are creating sounds carefree and beautiful. There is a smile playing along the edges of her lips and we have disconnected our eyes since I sat down. To be honest, I'm sure I have a smile on as well. Who knew I could have fun playing music with my hated nemesis? When it feels natural, I return to the melody and let Lucy finish off with a bit of flair. Our last notes ring throughout the auditorium, breaking the peaceful bubble we made around ourselves.
For some reason, we are both breathing hard. I notice some of her hair has fallen out of place, resting against her check. I resist the urge to move it back behind her ear. Realizing that I was blatantly staring at her, I get out of the chair and make my way to the back and put away my violin.
"We should probably get out of here, the lights will be shutting off soon." I say, cursing the nerves I hear in my voice.
"Uh, yea. Wouldn't want to get locked in here either, especially with you." Her tone confuses me, I'm not sure if it's meant to be insulting so I look over at her. She is putting away her own violin but looks back up when she feels my eyes on her. "Who knows what could happen." And there is the teasing I am used to, reminding me that that's all it is. Teasing. The hammering of my heart ignites my anger, I need to get out of here, like now.
"Ok, well bye, Blondie. Hopefully, you'll get kidnapped on your way back to the dorms." I reply gruffly and head out the door.
"No, wait. Santana!" I don't know why I stop, maybe it was the way she said my name, but I did so she could catch up to me. She stands next to me, almost shyly, and I give her a look.
"What is it, Lucille?"
"I was wondering if you wanted to get something to eat. With me." Never has she ever asked me something like this. Let alone talked to me as if we were friends. I suspect ulterior motives so I gotta give a surprise attack.
"Only if you pay."
"What, why do I have to pay? It's not a date, Lezpez."
"You were the one who asked so you should pay. And it's definitely not a date, I hate you. So this is me doing you a favor and how you repay me for said favor." The look of outrage on her face is delicious. "Take it or leave it, Blondie."
Thirty minutes later, we're in Mc D's and I'm chowing down my Big Mac. Quinn is staring out the window, lost in her thoughts. I spy her untouched, soggy fries and steal one thinking she wouldn't notice.
"I saw that." There I go being wrong again. White girl is pinning me down with her stare and her brow is slightly furrowed. "Why would you steal one of my fries, you dork. You have your own." She argues.
"Your's look better." I make my point and steal another fry just to annoy her.
"Hey! Give that back!" I take a bite then throw the rest at her, aiming at her cleavage. The shot goes in and I raise my arms in victory.
"Booyah!" Quinn's jaw drops in surprise, then it morphs into an evil smile. She grabs her fries and declares a food fight. Innocent fries are flying everywhere, the red stain of ketchup adding to the massacre.
Eventually, we run out of ammo and are laughing like delinquents. My cheeks start to hurt from smiling too much and it feels... nice. The black, elderly employee at the counter clears her throat loud enough for us to hear. I look over and I can tell she is silently cursing us with voodoo magic.
"Sorry." Quinn squeaks before we break into one last round of giggles. I get up and start collecting the fries on the floor and Lucy follows suit. Every now and then, I glance at her and find her look away from me quickly with a blush. Even the tops of her ears are turning pink, kinda adorable. Wait, what?! Did I just think that? Shit.
"San, are you ok?" She must be able to tell I'm at odds with myself.
"Yeah, don't worry about me Quinnifer. You should be worrying about that fry still in your shirt." I meant to be snarky but instead I sound playful, wtf?
We're standing up now and I can't help but watch as she reaches in the top of her shirt and does indeed pull out a fry. With a laugh she pops it into her mouth and smiles at me. I think I'm smiling back at her but I've just noticed that she has a smudge of ketchup on her pulse point. Before I can stop myself, I reach out and scoop it up with my finger. I figure I passed the point of no return, so I bring my finger to my lips and lick it clean.
Lucy looks like she stopped breathing and is staring at my lips. "You had ketchup on you." I lamely say as I wonder what is going on with us. I'm used to us bickering back and forth like cats and dogs, didn't we hate each other?
"Thanks." She finally replies all breathy like she just ran a marathon.
"I'll go throw this all away now." I inform her and turn away. I feel like I need a few seconds to myself to get recollected. My name is Santana Lopez and I do not like Quinn Fabray. Okay, got it.
"Ready to leave, Tiger?" She asks when I get back. I refuse to look at her, I just grab my case and head to the door. A few seconds later, I hear her footsteps follow me closely as we make our way back home. The silence around us is something I don't want to think about. Frankly, I don't want to think about anything that transpired in the last hour. It's too confusing. I know that tomorrow everything will just be the way they always were, today changes nothing. Quinn will go back to ignoring my existence and/or teasing me with desire while being the bane of my -
"You know, if could control your attitude more, you'd be an exceptional musician." The she-devil interrupts my thoughts again more than half way home.
"Excuse you, I'm already an exceptional musician unlike some people who sleep their way to the top." I say in a huff and continue forward. The faster we get to our building, the faster I can be rid of her.
"Are you implying that's what I did? You're seriously delusional." The outrage is in her voice, giving her a higher pitch that scratches my ear drums.
"Well, that's the only way that makes sense since we both know I'm a better violinist than you." This argument has been a long time coming, I've got my insults fully stocked. I didn't expect her to grab my wrist and force us to stop though, she has a strong grip.
"Let's get one thing straight." Her piercing eyes are locked onto mine and becoming more green than brown. "You are not better than me, more talented maybe, but not better. I work my ass off everyday, can take direction well from the conductor, and know how to direct others. If you would stop being the left-handed victimized, self-centered, God's gifted bitch to everyone; then maybe you'd realize that an orchestra is made of many exceptional musicians and not just one."
My hand struck like lightning against her cheek. Instantly, I saw a deep, red welt form against her pale skin and I regretted my actions.
"Shit! Quinn, I'm sorry. It was a reflex, are you ok?" She moved her head back to face me and there were unshed tears building up in her eyes. I knew that had to have hurt and I fully expected her to retaliate. When her hand came up, I braced myself but didn't try to stop her, I deserved it anyway. My eyes shut automatically so I didn't see her hand stop midway. I also didn't see her grab my face with both hands but I sure did feel it. Before my brain could process what was happening, I felt pulled forward until my lips crashed into something soft, wet, and warm.
Time slowed to a stop, my lungs forgot how to function, and it felt like I was on fire. All too quickly, time sped up dramatically, and I was now being pushed away. I stumbled back, almost falling flat on my ass, before I regained my balance and opened my eyes. Quinn was already down the street, walking away at a furious pace, and I stand here stunned. I narrow my eyes and try to piece together what the fuck just happened. Then I start to question my sanity, did that really just happen? No way, it can't be! But I have a stinging in my palm like I just slapped a brick wall and I can taste strawberry gloss on my lips. I don't wear lip gloss.
A/N: So please leave reviews, the more reviews I get the faster I post the next chapter. I'm not sure how long this story will even be, could be a three-shot but really idk. It's just been itching in my brain to be written even though I should be working on my other fic. So, thanks for reading and I promise I will update this and Piano's Point of View... eventually... promise!
Oh and the song I imagine they play together is called Ancora Qui, I heard it from D'Jango Unchained and fell in love. If I was talented enough, I would actually make a violin cover of this song. But I'm not so I cry ;(