The Weekenders. Part I.
Santana and I are what people refer to as weekenders. Between our busy schedules, our weeks are full of rehearsals, long studio hours, dinners with entertainers, investors and management. The nights we do not have obligations are spent in our West Village studio apartment. I know what you're thinking. Studio? Aren't both of you very successful? Couldn't you afford bigger? The short answer is yes, of course we could. There have been times when we bump elbows while brushing our teeth in our one sink bathroom, and sigh at each other, while Santana presses up against the sink, so I can move behind her so our strong arms are pointing in opposite directions. After we sigh, we smile at each other and lean in for a minty kiss, and forget about the dribble of Crest down our sleep shirts. We could probably afford most any apartment in New York, within reason, but I guess we just don't want to. Why? Because we are weekenders. We want to spend that extra money on weekend trips, jet setting in and out of the country for a blissful 72 hours - 96 if we can get Friday and Monday off.
I remember our very first weekend trip. Santana entered the apartment in an absolute flurry. Spouting off about how incompetent her producer is, and how is completely trying to ruin her cultivated sound. In between the mix of English and Spanish expletives - it's funny how most of my most secure Spanish is curse words, when Santana came back to New York for me and when we got back on tour, I immediately starting taking Spanish lessons, but still only had a firm grip on the curses - Santana glances up at me sitting on the couch with head slightly cocked at her and a smile on my face. She can't help but grin at me, "What's so funny, Pierce?" she asks with a pretend scowl on her face, but her brown eyes tell a different story. "If this album bombs, we might have to move into a shoebox in the Bronx, share a twin bed and eat ramen for the rest of our lives!" Santana dramatically collapses on top of me on the couch in a heap, and I just cannot help but giggle.
"For some reason, I think we could survive off the money from your tour for the next few years, not to mention the royalties you're getting from Itunes, as well as your cover album, but regardless, we could live in a mansion or in a cardboard box on the street, and it wouldn't matter to me because we would still be living together" I deftly reply as a plant a few kisses on the top of her head. Santana pops up, and I see a mischievous glimmer in her eyes, she leans in for a quick, but emotion filled kiss, before bounding off into the bedroom. I hear her banging around, but don't ask any questions, I lean back on the couch and grab the Vanity Fair I was reading before she came home, which funnily enough had an article about Santana in it. All of a sudden, I see a suitcase, bathing suits, jeans, sweatpants, underwear, bras, and socks being thrown from out bedroom into a pile, and I can't help but ask questions.
"Santana, love, what in sweet Charity's name are you doing?" As if being summoned, my beautiful girlfriend appears in the doorway changed into a pair of leggings and a workout top. She smiles brightly, "We are going upstate for the weekend. I am sick of the city and need a break. You're on break from dance classes and are just in major classes, so we don't need to worry about last minute rehearsals, I can call out of the studio for the weekend, and we can just head up to the lake and chill the fuck out. What do you think?" She looks at me eagerly with brightness on her face and hope in her eyes. Right after X-Factor, when Santana knew I would be in NYC, she but her signing bonus down on this tiny cabin in upstate New York in the Adirondack Mountain chain. When she first bought it, for pennies on the dollar, the cabin needed some insane work. But since making more money, and being incredibly frugal, Santana has been able to invest into turning the cabin into something really special. Like our very own tiny home.
I can't help but beam at my girlfriend, "I think that is the best idea you've ever had." Without missing a bit she replies, "Coming back for you was the best idea I've ever had, love. Now get the cute butt moving, I want to miss traffic." She immediately backs a shared weekend bag, and moves into the bathroom to get her toiletries. I probably don't need to remind her that we have that all stocked up at the cabin. She's just so excited.
So, after that weekend, Santana and I planned our schedules, so that once a month or so we are able to get away from the grind of our lives for a weekend. Sometimes we would skip a month for a particular big trip, like when we went to Paris or Cabo. We were smart, and were never negligent about our work obligations, keeping up with our friends and family, but we craved our weekends to just be, ugh I hate to be so cliche, but us. Our weekending provided the balance our relationship desperately needed. Never again did we want to feel the disconnect we felt those first few months after X-Factor. And though we shared an apartment and a live together, there were times where we felt far away even in our bed. Between my classes, internships and dance recitals, and Santana's career was literally exploding beneath her, seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks felt faster than ever.
Fast forward to the moment where Santana broke the chain of weekending. I knew it was coming on the time when my girlfriend of now 2 and half years would burst through the door and say, "Back your bags bumble, we are hitting the road!" Instead, it had been close to 6 weeks since our last mini vacation. We spent 3 amazing days in Charleston, SC, and since getting back to the city, Santana had been spending ungodly hours in the studio finishing up her second solo album. The girl is CRAZY about work, she just released an album when we got back home from our first tour together. She spent almost every waking hour that she wasn't performing or loving up on me feverishly writing in one of her notebooks. Her first LP was full of songs from before and during the competition, and it seems like she has spent the last two years perfecting the songs for this next album. To say she is being secretive is an absolutely understatement, I have only heard a piece of two songs she is definitely putting on - she said the album is a surprise, especially for me.
Anyways, I am getting pretty restless, I start my third year at Julliard, and have fast-tracked my education so I can graduate in January of this year, and officially begin my career as a professional dancer and model (something that Santana has convinced me to do, because as she says whenever I wear anything "DAMN"). And, my summer externship at a studio in LA just finished. Santana moved out to LA with me for the 8 weeks, and worked in a studio out there. Seeing her in LA was really interesting, the music scene is fascinatingly different, but what made her most exciting was being able to collab with Mercedes on a song, and going to see the ApocaLIPSTIX perform. It put Santana right back into her TT element, and temporarily brought back her sassiness that has mellowed out a touch since moving in with me. But, since we have gotten back, I feel like I never see my girlfriend and we have not had a weekend in what feels like forever. Until one afternoon, Santana came home way earlier than expected with a sly smile on her face. She found me sitting on the balcony, which was really enough space for two chairs where I liked to decompress and read or listen to music.
I faintly hear the screen door slide open and close, and it is not until strong arms wrap around my shoulders, and Santana's scent invades my surroundings that I truly register she is home hours before I was expecting her.
"Hi, bumble" she coos in my ear as she plants soft kisses on my neck and cheek, moving closer and closer to her primary target. I slightly turn my face, so my lips find her sooner. I was expecting a small peck, but as I begin to pull away, Santana slides her hand up to my cheek and holds me closer to her, so she can briefly deepen the kiss. Nothing too intense, but she lightly pulls my top lip between hers and hums slightly.
I can almost feel the sparkle in my eyes as I look up at my girlfriend. It has been disgustingly warm in New York City the past two weeks, and she is clad in a flowy black romper with cut outs showing off her trim waist, and peeking into her cut abs. I run my hand down her side and rest on the cut out, "What are you doing here? Lunch break? I wasn't expecting you home until later this evening." Santana runs her hand through my ponytail and shortly responds, "Album is done. Besides we have a plane to catch." With that she leans down, plants a small kiss on the nose, turns on her heel and heads back into the apartment.
I sit there momentarily stunned, before hopping out of my chair and chasing after my Latina lover. "Wait a plane?" I call out, "What are you talking about, Tana? Where are we going? I am not even packed." I hear Santana's throaty chuckle float from out of the bedroom, and no sooner does that noise reach my hears then two suitcases come rolling out of the door.
"I got it covered, Bumble. All you need is your favorite flying outfit and your passport." She stands there, looking very proud of herself with a smirk on her face. She knows that I like surprises, but that I hate not being prepared. "Look, I know what is going through your head, but seriously, don't worry, I have all the logistics covered. You are properly packed for any weather or resistance we could meet along the way."
"When did you have time to pack without me noticing?" I inquire quickly. There hasn't been a ton of time when she is in the apartment and I am not. Most times I am waiting for her to come home.
"Well, you've been a heavy sleeper and a lot of this stuff is off season. Which reminds me, you might want to bring a jacket on the flight, it might be cool when we land." She starts to make moves toward the bathroom, before I catch her,
"Wait, I still have some follow up questions…" Santana turns and quirks an eyebrow at me, "Where are we going? And why do we have two bags? We never bring two bags for a weekend…" She smiles widely, before reaching out for my hand,
She holds on her pointer finger, "One, it is a surprise, and no amount of pouting or whining or kissing will make me tell. We are going to be at the airport within the hour and you'll know" I am about to respond, but she places her pointer finger on my lips, and I can't help but plant on small kiss which causes her to grin. She pulls her hand away, before extending her middle finger as well, "Two, I think we deserve more than a weekend this time." She quickly plants a kiss on the top of my hand, before double checking she has all her toiletries. I squeal and jump in place before rushing off into the bedroom to get everything ready for the flight. Before I know it, Santana and I are in her town car heading towards Newark airport. My lovely girlfriend has traded her romper out for a pair of dark grey joggers, a light navy hoodie and her large black Chanel sunnies, with a black white sox hat. Airports were usually teeming with paps, and she wants to avoid them at all costs. I can't help but giggle at her when she gets like this. Unfortunately, we are one of the most recognizable couples in the media's eye right now.
And now, I find myself here. Leveling off in Saga Class, as the flight attendant hands both Santana and I a cold, bubbly glass of champagne. Santana turns to me and tilts her glass towards mine, "To our Icelandic adventure". I tap my glass with her's "to Iceland", and slowly let the cold liquid slide down my throat. Full of excitement.
AN: This story will have at least one more chapter! Just got back from Iceland myself and couldn't help but write about it.