Brittany's lying on your couch, flicking through the channels to find a cartoon that'll satisfy her post-homework brain ache. As usual, her feet are in your lap, and her golden hair is fanned over the arm of the chair. And as usual, her brow is furrowed as she tries to find something she wants to watch. Yet, something feels different today. Her body seems a little more tense, and, as she settles on Spongebob, she doesn't start giggling straight away as she normally would. In fact, as you flick a quick look in her direction, she looks a little down, and you know that something's not quite right.
"Britt?" you ask, a little worried. "Is something up?"
Brittany looks at you, and as blue eyes catch you own, your stomach jumps a little. It's a familiar feeling, as is the equally familiar confusion that comes with it.
"I can tell you anything, right, San?" she asks, almost a whisper.
"Of course," you reply, scared now.
Brittany swallows and shuffles out of your lap, so you're both sitting cross legged on the couch with your knees touching.
"It's just… well, you know last night? Mike Chang came over to practice for that dance competition we have coming up?"
You nod, and you already don't like where this is going.
"Well, when we'd finished, we were just sitting in my basement, watching TV. And then he sort of leaned over and kissed me. I was totally surprised, because I thought he liked Tina. But it was good and we carried on and then we did all the other stuff and then… I don't know how it happened, but I had sex with him, San. It wasn't that good but I knew it'd hurt because of what you told me about Puck and stuff, and…" Brittany trails off. She looks a little nervous, awaiting your reaction.
You feel sick. You don't know why. You've already lost your virginity, right? You lost it a year ago, when you were 15, and Puck tried to be gentle but he still seemed too rough. You've done it enough times since, as well, so why does Brittany's 'news' bother you so much? You can't pinpoint it, but you think it has something to do with the fact that you know Mike wouldn't have treated her properly. He wouldn't have been soft enough with her, wouldn't have held her and eased her through the pain. You imagine his rough hands on her and vomit threatens to rise in your throat.
"Is that okay, San? I mean, I know I said I'd tell you before I did it but I didn't plan it. It just happened. Are you mad?" Brittany looks upset. It probably has something to do with the hard look on your face as you process what she's told you.
Yet, you also wonder why she would ask if you're mad. Because really, why should you be annoyed at her? You gave your virginity away pretty easily.
"Yeah, I'm pretty mad," you answer, shocking yourself.
Brittany's face crumples. "Why?" she wants to know. "You had sex with Puck. I know you're still doing it, as well. How comes you're allowed?"
You know she's trying to sound tough, but really she just sounds weak. A little broken, even.
"Because," you stop. Because what? What reason do you have? "Because, ugh, Britt, you're better than that! You should have waited! That ass hat has no idea how to make you feel good!"
"How would you know?" Brittany counters.
You're shocked. She doesn't normally answer back.
"You weren't ready yet," you say, though really, you know it's not your place.
Brittany pouts. She's angry now. "It's not up to you to tell me when I can and can't have sex, Santana," she argues, and you're a little shocked. "Who do you think I should have lost it to, then?"
You gulp, because in amongst the hurt and the anger, you know. You know, and it's something that's plagued you ever since you were seven and wanted to chase Brittany in the playground during a game of Kiss Chase, not any of those stupid boys. It's something that's bothered you since your mom told you, at the age of ten, that you'd find 'the perfect prince' one day, and you wondered what it meant if you wanted the princess instead. It's something that's especially scared you since you've noticed that every time you have sex with Puck, you imagine what it'd be like to have a smaller, leaner, blonder body underneath you instead.
"Me," you whisper, so quietly you're not sure if Brittany even heard at all. The shock contorting her face says she did. "You can go now," you add, getting up from the couch. Brittany follows without a word. You show her to the door, and, as she leaves with a look of confusion, you almost say something else, provide her with an explanation. But you can't.
So as soon as the door is closed, you do the only thing you know how. You grab your phone, and find Puck, and in a second you've planned to go over to his. You're only 16. You shouldn't be using sex to help you when you're hurting. Sure, the other girls in your year are discovering putting their tongue inside someone else's mouth and grabbing at each other while making out and learning how sex feels for the first time. But they don't savour the numbness it brings.
Right now, you need to feel numb.
