They say that some ridiculous amount of people have already met the ones they are going to marry by the time they are sixteen. Santana does not know if it holds any weight, but she knows it is true enough. At least for her.
She is a different kind of blonde.
Her hair is darker, much like the sun setting into the horizon. Santana had always imagined something more of a sunrise, when it is early in the morning and you have to squint your eyes when you are looking out. It is not as light as she imagined, but she does not mind.
Her smile is much more guarded. Santana was surprised the first time she found a difference. She does not give them out freely and Santana understands why, so Santana counts them more because they mean more. At least for her.
Her eyes are not the color of the morning sky. Her eyes are blurs of the grass and the earth that Santana stands on. Santana thought her heart would have been carried by the wind just to get lost in the heavens. Instead, Santana's heart is rooted in the ground. It is solid and certain and Santana can build a home on that. So she does; they do.
Sometimes Santana wonders how life would have been like to build a home engulfed in blue. She would stretch her arms out and let herself pretend that she rests on puffs of clouds instead of blades of grass. She thinks about the possibilities of it all, looking down onto the world and seeing what the birds see.
Santana does not get very high. She comes right back down when long, slender fingers intertwine with hers and hold her hand in that kind of way that Santana thought only one other person in the world ever could.
The sky is beautiful, but far.
She is stunning and Santana worships the ground Quinn walks on.
They say that some ridiculous amount of people have already met the ones they are going to marry by the time they are sixteen. It is true enough. She was just not the one Santana expected.