Santana's POV: Present Day
If you were to ask my 18-year old self where she saw herself in 10 years she probably would have responded with some smart-ass reply boasting her imminent and colossal career in Hollywood, while being happily married to Brittany S. Pierce. That was, after all, what my plans were upon graduating from McKinley High located in the quaint town of Lima, Ohio. Sure, I spent some time in the University of Louisville shaking pompoms for yet another football team (albeit that team was far better than the mediocre group of boys at McKinley) but that was short lived.
It was only after I was offered a position by my insane ex-cheerleading coach with ulterior motives and an eye awakening conversation with my ex-girlfriend/best friend that I decided to take the plunge, confront my fears and, with Rachel and Kurt's open invitation (or my barging in, but let's not get picky) head off to the Big Apple.
While my head and heart were filled with fantasies of grandeur and the illusion of fame, I'd be lying if I said I didn't spend my first year in New York floundering like a fish out of water. Even after I started taking random dance and singing classes at the extension program from NYADA (which I only agreed to as a means to get Rachel and Kurt off my back) I still never really felt that I was on the right path.
Somewhere amidst that first year in New York I realized that my self-proclaimed prophecy of fame was nothing more than a brainwashed notion I succumbed to during my times in Glee Club. Yes, there was definitely a sense of elation that came with being on stage in high school, singing in front of hundreds who applauded for us, for me. But as I grew older, and the small town of Lima became more of a place to visit filled with memories both bad and good, I came to the realization that THAT wasn't what I wanted at all.
It was actually by mere accident that I finally discovered what I actually wanted to do with the rest of my life. See, Rachel Berry had struck it big her first year in New York, landing her dream role as Fanny in Funny Girl. I guess I wasn't too surprised when it happened, after all, that woman had known what she wanted the minute she plopped out of her mothers uterus.
Anyway, after the show was a big success on Broadway, so too was Rachel. She began getting scripts and audition offers practically overnight. The normally calm and collected Rachel Berry suddenly became exceedingly overwhelmed. The poor thing didn't know the first thing about managing her career.
Enter Santana Lopez. When it became clearly obvious Rachel was in over her head I offered my services until she found a manager she felt more comfortable with. She was hesitant at first, and it wasn't until after I showed up at a meeting with a film producer and landed her an audition that she finally gave me a chance. Of course Rachel was furious at first, because I presented myself as Rachel's manager and agent unannounced. But after I told her I got her the audition, she inevitably came around. I landed her a couple more auditions after that, and after her third audition landed her the second lead in another broadway play she asked me if I would manage her professionally.
That was definitely far from what I expected, and even I doubted my abilities to handle her career full-time. I was nothing more than a college drop out, floundering in life with just my boldness and wit to get me through the world. But Rachel felt otherwise. It was with her encouragement that I decided to enroll at NYU to pursue my degree in Public Relations. She believed in me, and was confident that I would take care of her career to the best of my ability. We hashed out the legalities and the rest, as they say, is history.
There's something about managing that gives me the sense of control and authority that I've always been infatuated with. I'm not stranger to manipulating the people, and I am definitely known as the one who always gets what I want, and will go to any lengths to achieve what I desire. I help people succeed at the things they love, and plus I still get paid rather handsomely without having to sacrifice my privacy. It's my dream job, and as much as I hate to admit it, I owe it all to Rachel Berry. I have been Rachel's agent slash manager now for the past seven years, but she was a best friend long before that. She and Kurt took me in after my train-wreck of a career at Louisville, guided me when I strayed towards cage dancing late at night, and encouraged me when I finally realized what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. Other than their limitless patience and kindness for me, we also endured a difficult hardship our first year together, which brought us closer than anything else could ever have. They had become my family, and for that I am forever grateful.
I make it a point not to tell them how much they mean to me, though. I don't really have to, they've known me long enough to know I don't particularly enjoy having the touchy-feely convos. But they know how I feel about them. If you were to tell my 18 year-old self that I would be best friends with Kurt Hummel and Rachel Berry, I would have most likely disrespectfully disagreed. My, how far I've come.
I was petty and insecure in high school, and used my intense fierceness, and, often times, harsh words to mask my own insecurities. I was cruel to the people that meant everything to me because I didn't know how to be anything else. I had an amazing romance in high school, but a third of that relationship was spent with me in denial about how truly capital G-Gay I actually was, and the last third of that relationship was filled with missed Skype calls and desperate weekend "laundry" trips back home. Even though it was painfully difficult at the time, and I often second-guessed my decision to break-up with her, in the end I know it was the right one to make. I don't regret my relationship with Brittany, I never will. She was the first one to love me for me, and it was with her that I allowed myself, for the first time, to love openly, and freely without consequence. She was the first person that made me believe that I actually could be the good person that she saw in me. While that relationship is long gone, and will never be re-visited, I will always love Brit, and to this day she still remains one of my best friends.
Like I said before, I've come a long way since high school. And it's often at times like right now, when I'm sitting in my favorite coffee shop in Los Angeles, right before the ball of enthusiasm that is Rachel Berry walks in, that I find myself thinking about how everything is different from what I originally planned.
The soft chime from the coffee shop door brings me out of my reverie, and I draw my focus away from the patrons on the other side of the window I'm sitting beside to my fabulous friend who is making her way towards me.
"Sorry I'm late," she apologizes as she moves to take off her coat, and oversized sunglasses. "Traffic was abysmal, as per usual."
"Rach, we've lived in L.A. now for four years. You'd think you would have figured out the traffic by now" I scold as I push her cup of spiced pumpkin latte towards her.
"I know, I know. But honestly, it's Sunday morning at 9:30, why on earth is there traffic on a Sunday? Didn't God intend for this to be a day of rest or something like that?"
I shake my head at my friend across the way, and listen to her gripe about the impatient Los Angeles drivers, and whine how she needs to just hire a full-time driver so she doesn't have to worry about driving ever again. It's the same conversation we have every Sunday when we meet for our weekly coffee dates, a tradition we started when we first moved to L.A. On these days we aren't manager and client, just Rachel and Santana, two friends catching up on anything that is the furthest away from our busy Hollywood lives.
"Rach, I swear if you get a driver I will fire you as my client."
"What? Why? For being smart enough to avoid traffic?"
"No, for being Diva enough to hire yourself a driver. The only people that need full-time drivers are old, rich retired people and maybe Kim Kardashian. I will not allow you to become a lazy celebrity."
"Gee, thanks for keeping me grounded Santana," she deadpans with an eye roll. "What would I ever do without you?"
"Hey, I'm just keepin' it real." She scoffs at my remark and sits further back into her oversized chair, clasping the mug of hot liquid with both her hands. She has relented, I know this because she no longer has anything else to say on the subject.
"So," Rachel clears her throat, as she shifts slightly in her seat. "Have you made your decision yet?" She doesn't look up at me when she asks, because I'm sure she's trying to avoid the scowl that has just made its way onto my face.
"I've told you already," I sigh, exasperated to be re-visiting this topic again. "I don't know yet. But I'm leaning more towards a 'probably not' if I am to be completely honest."
"Why not?" Here comes the trademark whiny voice with the predictable pout. "Santana it's our 10-year high school reunion. We haven't seen some of our friends in years, aren't you even a little curious?"
"What's there to be curious about," I respond with nonchalance. "I have Facebook."
"Yes, which you haven't logged onto since we moved to LA," Rachel reminds me.
"Sorry if my world doesn't revolve around a social media website where people are constantly posting about what the hell they had for lunch."
"Oh really? What has you so busy that you can't keep up with your correspondence?"
"How about your career and all your ridiculous demands?" I retort, crossing my arms across my chest in irritation. There may be some things that have noticeably changed about me since high school, but getting defensive when someone is cornering me or pressuring me about something is definitely not one of them.
"Oh, please. I am not demand-"
"Mattress filled with goose feathers and, a shower made entirely from pearl," I interrupt ticking off the items on my manicured fingers. "In your trailer."
"That was one time," she half yells. "And I told you, I was PMS-ing quite badly that day." I raise an eyebrow at her, to give her the opportunity to be more accurate. "Fine, for that month okay," she relents as she throws her hands up in defeat.
To this day, I still don't know what had gotten into the young starlet. It was her second major movie role in Hollywood, and somehow she had gotten it into her head that she needed to be more Diva-esque. I still blame that Disney actor/douche she was dating but she continues to deny it. Anyway, I had let her go on about her silly demands for while, thinking that maybe she just needed to get it out of her system. But the minute she snapped her fingers at me asking for a Vegan sprouts and portabella mushroom sandwich, hold the crust, I shut that down real quick.
"Anyway, don't think you can change the subject Santana. You're coming to that reunion with me."
"Honestly I don't see what the big deal is," I shrug, trying to mask my disinterest. "Can't you just give everyone my regards and we can all move in with our lives?"
"No. Absolutely not." I avert my eyes towards the coffee mug resting on the table in front of me and let out a defeated sigh. Before I realize it, Rachel is leaning forward and resting her hand on mine, stilling my fingers from chipping away at the worn paint on my coffee mug. "What's the real reason you don't want to go Santana?"
"Nothing, I'm just busy that's all," I offer as convincingly as possible while still avoiding eye contact.
"You and I both know that's bologna." I finally interrupt my feigned fascination with my coffee mug and look up at into kind yet very concerned brown eyes. Of course she can tell that I'm not being completely honest with her. It's just one of the many reminders as to how far our friendship has come. "Spit it out, Lopez."
I narrow my eyes towards her at the sound of my last name. "You know, this whole calling me by my last name deal is a terrible habit, and one that I'm not quite fond of," I accuse, jabbing my pointer finger towards her.
"Yeah, a habit I picked up from you," she defends with a roll of her eyes, another habit she undoubtedly picked up from me. "Now get on with it."
I resign to leaning back into my chair again, my attention now returning towards the patrons on the other side of the glass pane next to me. I chew on the inside of my lip, contemplating the best way to express exactly what it is that I'm thinking. To her credit, Rachel doesn't say anything to speed up my explanation, but rather sits patiently, sipping on her latte, waiting until I'm ready.
"I was a miserable, horrible person in high school to everyone around me. Even, and often times, especially, to the people that were there for me the most. I'm not that person anymore," I explain quietly, running my hand nervously through my hair. "But I'm afraid that when I go back there, that's all they'll remember about me. That's all they'll see."
"That's ridiculous," Rachel says with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Everyone knows you're not the same person."
"Do they, Rach? I mean, think about it. Yeah, I haven't exactly kept in touch, but at the same time, nobody has ever tried to contact me either. Explain that to me, oh wise one." She can't, though. Now it is Rachel who averts her eyes, and I know it's because she knows I'm right. I spent the better majority of my high school career tearing other people down, and pointing out all their flaws in hopes that it would distract from all of my flaws. "It's because no one wanted to keep in touch with Santana 'Satan' Lopez."
Rachel's head snaps up at the last part of my sentence, and the look of concern that she once wore has now been replaced with a look of incredulity. "Do you really think Kurt and I would have allowed you to stay with us if we really believed you were as horrible as you're claiming?" I shrug, because to be honest, they never really invited me to stay with them in the first place. I kind of just showed up at their door. "You've changed and I think it's time you showed the world the new Santana Lopez." Rachel shakes her head right away to better clarify her statement. "No, said that wrong. I meant to say show them the real Santana Lopez. Because this Santana, I think, has always been there. Don't let your mistakes from the past affect any potential relationships of your future."
I look up at Rachel through my eyelashes and find only sincerity and a true genuineness that I am lucky to have in her. She offers me a kind smile, which I hesitantly return, and quickly follow with my famous Lopez eye roll in an attempt to hide the blush that is slowly making its way onto my cheeks.
"That was some fancy monologue there, Berry. Practicing for a new role?" I tease, with no real malice behind my words.
"Oh you know, just want to make sure I keep my juices going at all times," she retorts with a wink. "Don't worry, Santana, I'll be by your side the entire time." I nod in a silent thanks and we return to our beverages in a comfortable silence.
"So who should I be expecting to see at this shindig," I ask, breaking the temporary pause in our conversation. "You know, aside from you, Mr. and Mr. Lady Hummel, and Mercedes?"
"Well, from what I understand, the entire Glee club will be there," Rachel says, and my eyes snap back to her as she rambles on about something I'm completely disinterested in. "I think maybe with the exception of Sugar. Last I heard, her father had purchased a hotel somewhere in Costa Rica, and she spends her days there lounging around the pool area, while being waited on by hot Costa Rican men, dressed in nothing but very skimpy swimming trunks."
"So, when you say the entire Glee club, do you mean, like the entire Glee club," I ask as coolly as possible. I don't think I've managed to be very convincing however, as I can see the way Rachel side glances me as she rattles off the names of our former Gleemates.
"Yup, everyone confirmed on the McKinley class of 2012 Facebook Page that JBI started. Artie, Mike Chang, Tina, Sam, Puck." I ring my hands nervously under the table as Rachel gives role call from across the table. I can feel my heartbeat quicken in anticipation of one name in particular. I'm also very aware of how Rachel is gauging my reaction to each name she calls out, making it blatantly obvious that she's dragging it out. "Brittany, Joe…" she stops now, deliberately, tapping her finger on her chin in false concentration. "Uhm, yeah, I think that's everyone."
"Oh," is all I can respond, the disappointment evident in my voice. I lean back into my chair, trying to recall at what point I actually leaned forward. I subtly sigh in relief as I move to take a sip from my coffee, and it is then that Rachel decides to speak up again.
"Oh yeah, and Quinn Fabray also RSVP'd," she says in the most cavalier way as possible. The name causes my breath to hitch, sending an unexpected gulp of hot liquid down the wrong tube. I'm immediately thrown into a very loud and I'm sure, a very unattractive fit of coughs, while I struggle to gasp for air. "Oh my God, Santana, what the hell," I can hear Rachel say, as she rushes around the table to pat my back, although it feels more like a pounding rather than a patting, but I'm too busy convulsing to protest.
"I'm sorry, I don't know what happened," I finally choke out in a ragged breath. "I must have sipped my coffee too fast or something." Rachel stops her attack on my back, while eyeing me suspiciously before returning to her seat.
"I don't know, it almost seemed like your reaction was directly related to hearing the sound of Quinn's name," Rachel implies.
"No. Why would…I mean, I just drank my coffee the wrong way," I say in a pathetic attempt to explain my little choking episode. Rachel merely raises an eyebrow, which I've learned is her silent version of "Oh, please."
"Okay, maybe I did react a little to hearing her name. But, I mean…I haven't seen or heard from Quinn in a very, very long time. Of course I'm surprised to learn that she'll be attending." It wasn't entirely a lie. It had been a very long time since I saw Quinn, the last time being not exactly pleasant. She disappeared from my life, and I was too stubborn at the time to chase after her, or attempt to fix it. And since Quinn has always been equally as stubborn as I, she would have been hard pressed to attempt any kind of a reconnection, as well. The thing is, after I got over myself, I very much missed my old friend, regardless of all the bullshit that went on between us. But so much time had passed already; I didn't know where to even begin.
"Did something happen between you and Quinn?" Oh, just jump straight into the meat of it why don't you. "And don't lie to me, Santana. For one you're a terrible liar, and secondly…well, there is no secondly. The fact that you're a terrible liar is pretty much enough of an indication for you to not lie to me."
"What makes you think something happened between Quinn and I? From what I understand she hasn't exactly been the best pen pal with any of us from Glee." This, too, was also a truth. After everything that went down between us Quinn pretty much fell off the face of the planet. I had heard through the Brittany and Rachel grapevine several rumors and speculations as to the whereabouts of Quinn, but nothing concrete. One rumor was that she quit Yale, and left the states to travel around the world. There were also rumors that she found a very wealthy blue-collared young man at Yale that she married, so she didn't need to finish school, or even work for that matter. The last rumor, and perhaps my favorite rumor of all, was that she finally realized she didn't need a man to define her, and she graduated whatever school she attended at the top of her class, and left for somewhere unknown to start with a fresh slate. She was always better than anything Limo, Ohio, or any self-absorbed man could offer her.
"That's true, no one has heard from Quinn," Rachel agrees. "But every time her name is mentioned, I'm not the one who breaks out into a cold sweat and turns into some jittery, clumsy teenager." I hate that she knows me so well sometimes.
"Something had to have happened between you and Quinn. You never ask about her, you avoid the conversation if she's the main subject, and you get nervous just at the mere mention of her name. I expected, or rather hoped, that eventually you would tell me what really went on between the two of you but you never came around. Since the taboo subject will be very much present, in the flesh, at the reunion next week, I suggest you just own up to whatever it is you're keeping from me so that I can help you get through it."
"Jeez, Berry…can't you just say, 'you better tell me or else I'll nag you until you do' or something like that?" I ask, rubbing the palms of my hands into my eyes, in hopes that they will push away the exhaustion the always follows Rachel's long winded speeches.
"Now, Santana, you know that is not how I operate," she replies sweetly, batting her eyelashes at me.
"It's nothing Rachel. Really," I offer as a means to try and dissuade her from pressing the issue any further. I know it's a futile attempt because once Berry has her sights set on something, it's nearly impossible for her to forget about the subject. She challenges me by mirroring my body posture, crossing her arms at her chest and her legs at the thigh, holding my stare in defiance. In the past I would be able to scare Rachel away with just the slightest curl of my lip, but now that she's seen me actually exude any semblance of emotion or compassion, I've lost most of that power, especially when it involves Rachel just being genuinely concerned for my well-being. I begin to shift uncomfortably in my seat under the scrutiny of my best friend, and I know I've lost the battle. "Fine, okay. Quinn and I may have, under the influence of intense vulnerability and a lot of wine, slept together at Mr. Schue's wedding."
I shut my eyes in anticipation of the shrill squeal that is sure to escape from my friend's mouth, but I hear nothing. I peak through one closed eye only to find Rachel looking back at me calmly but intently. "You harass me for information and then when I tell you, you have nothing to say?" I ask incredulously.
I can feel Rachel's eyes narrow at me, and I suddenly find my cuticles to be the most interesting thing in the planet. "You two only hooked up that one time?" she asks, not even trying in the slightest bit to hide the skepticism her voice is dripping with.
"Okay, fine, maybe more than once," I admit, rolling my eyes in irritation. Rachel continues to remain silent, quirking an eyebrow as the only indication that she knows I'm still not being entirely truthful. I let out a small sigh, another sign of defeat. "Fine, we hooked up for a few months, nothing serious. Just sex, and after a few months, we called it quits. And I haven't seen or heard from her since. Okay, that's it. That's all you're getting out of me Hobbit."
She regards me for a second before she nods to herself. "Good, I'm glad you were honest with me Santana. Although, if I may be honest with you, it's a good thing you didn't lie to me, because I already knew about yours and Quinn's secret arrangement." My eyes go wide and I can feel the heat start to creep up my neck. "Oh come on, Santana," Rachel continues. "You're kidding yourself if you really thought you two were quiet."
I can feel the heat creeping up my neck, and my palms start to sweat. I don't know why it's such a big deal, this wouldn't be the first time Rachel and Kurt have heard me and my late night guests, not to mention that this is something that happened almost ten years ago. But it does bother me, I'm mortified, and what makes it worse is I can't even explain why it bothers me so much. My insides are churning while Rachel talks about it like it's just another topic to cover, like what cereal we had for breakfast.
"You know, I would have always imagined you to be the louder one between the two of you, but I guess it does make sense as Quinn has always been one to voice her opinions and give command-" Oh my god, stop!
"Oh my God, Rach, stop!" I beg of her, burying my face into my hands.
"Okay, okay fine, I'll ease up on you," Rachel says, holding her hands up in surrender. "You've been honest with me so that's the least I can do, right?" she asks, a lot more sweetly than usual. I nod slowly in agreement, all the while eyeing her suspiciously.
We polish off the remainder of our beverages and go to stand to put on our coats. It normally isn't that cold in L.A. in the autumn, especially not for us natives of Ohio and New York, but this particular fall has been a bit more chilly than usual. We make our way towards the exit, every once in a while making eye contact which Rachel fills with an almost too innocent of a smile. I know there is more she wants to say and she is just biding her time, waiting for the right moment.
"Okay then, I guess I'll see you tomorrow, Rach," I say quickly when we exit the coffee shop; my vain attempt to escape before Rachel can say anything else.
"Yes, photoshoot tomorrow morning at 9:30. I will see you there," Rachel confirms with nod. I turn to leave but she's too quick, and she stops me by gently resting her hand on my forearm. "Thank you for being honest with me today, Santana. I know our friendship has come a long way, but there is still a part of you that finds it difficult for you to open up to me, so I want you to know that I am always grateful for the truths that you do decide to share with me."
"Uhm…thanks..." I say slowly, unsure about how to take the way she worded her last sentence to me. I try to make another break for it, but there is another gentle tug on my arm.
"I do just have one more observation that I'd like to share with you, Santana, if I may." I let out a breath, and shrug, which is all Rachel will get from me as an o.k. to continue. "It's interesting to me that out of all your exes, you've still managed to still remain friends with them. Even Brittany, who you were completely heart-broken over, remains one of your best friends to this day."
"Get to the point, Berry. Quickly."
"Well, it's just interesting that although you and Quinn always had a complicated relationship, everyone knew the two of you had this unspoken, special friendship. So, the fact that even though the thing between you and Quinn was 'just sex' as you so eloquently put it, Quinn was the only one, out of all your partners, that you cut ties with." I can feel her study me while I stare absentmindedly across the street. "So the only conclusion I can draw from that is that perhaps, it was a little more than 'just sex' and there is more to the story then you're letting on."
I drag my fingers through my hair, stilling the loose strands that blow gently in the wind. I allow myself for a brief second to re-visit all the memories that I pushed away a long time ago, the minute I do the dam has been broken and they all come flooding back. Her golden hair, the color of her eyes, the smell of her body wash, the touch of her hand, the way she sleeps. If I close my eyes I can still feel the warmth of her breath against my neck, and hear her giggle when I butterfly kiss my way along her jaw. I turn to look at Rachel, with the intention of telling her to drop it, but the look of concern is there again, pulling me out of my shell. I sigh and shake my head.
"What're you doing tonight, Berry?" She looks at me with curiosity. "Well, if we're going to do this, then we're going to need some drinks for this story."
She smiles brightly and pulls me into a quick hug. "It's a date then. Shall we?" I laugh gently and take my friend's extended hand as she pulls me towards our parked cars across the street.
A/N: So, I hope you guys like the first chapter. The second chapter is almost complete, so I'll have that up shortly. Also, even though there is a lot of Pezberry friendship I just want y'all to know that this is still very much a Quinntana story. Anyway, review, comment, PM…you know…just let me know what y'all are thinking And as always, thanks for reading!
Oh yeah, also…I succumbed to the Tumblr universe. Insert shameless self-promotion here, writing4nerdsdottumblrdotcom
So you know, if you're bored you can check it out…or not, if you don't want to, or whatever :)