Brittany loves all the little parts of being in love. Like, sometimes she opens her nightstand and pulls out the picture that Santana gave her a few weeks ago. It's a picture of three year-old Santana on the Fourth of July. She sits on a sidewalk curb with a red hat on her head and an ice cream sandwich in her left hand. Her right hand is outstretched toward a small golden retriever and her mouth is open in delight.

Brittany smiles at the picture: at Santana's curly dark hair falling out of her hat, at the light-up sneakers she's wearing, at the look of marvel on little Santana's face as she meets the golden retriever. Brittany flips the photograph over and re-reads the words Santana wrote to her.

Britt— I guess I've always had a thing for blondes ;). xo San.

Sometimes Santana re-reads their text message log. She scrolls her thumb down the screen of her iPhone and her eyes absorb Brittany's messages in white and her own messages in green.

Some of the messages are stand-alone texts that were sent out-of-the-blue. Small reminders of how much they love each other. Creative ways of saying "I'm thinking about you." Kisses they express through words when they're physically apart.

Why aren't you here when I wanna snuggle with you?

Youre cute…just fyi

Ash just asked me why I was smiling like a dumb-butt and I told her it was bc I was remembering something from dance but it was actually just bc I was thinking about you

Some of the messages are parts of a conversation. The back-and-forth exchange that comes with being in love. The joyous wonder of exposing your heart and the incredible awe that comes with reading the reply.

Miss you baby. New rule: youre not allowed to leave for Thanksgiving ever again

Can I leave if I bring you with me next time?

Yes. That's the only way I'll allow it.

Deal

Hey baby, how was shopping?

Perfect. My mom got me some new boots!

Yeahhhhh she did! I bet you look super hot in them. Now come over…dying to see you

Be there ASAP. I got some new lip gloss too so prepare yourself for some delicious kisses ;)

Night britty. I love you

Love you too san. Sweet dreams

Maybe she's sitting at the dentist's office, or maybe she's sitting in the car waiting for her mom to fill up the gas tank, or maybe she's simply sitting in her house and missing Brittany, and she'll pull out her phone and scroll through this electronic record of her relationship, and she'll feel so in love that she wants to cry with the beauty of it.

Sometimes Santana does this thing where she matches kisses to words.

"Eight letters in 'Brittany,'" she says. "Eight kisses."

She kisses Brittany's forehead. Her left eyebrow. Her nose. Her cheek. Her other cheek. Her mouth. Her jaw line. Her mouth again.

"Four letters in 'love,'" she says a few minutes later.

She kisses Brittany's temple. Her right ear. Her neck. Her mouth.

"If I write you a love letter," Brittany says, "will you count all the letters and kiss me that many times?"

"Gladly."

Brittany laughs. "Even if it's, like, ten pages long?"

"Even more gladly if it's ten pages long."

Brittany starts to feel giddy. "Okay, my turn," she says. "How about… 'you're my boo.'"

Santana bursts out laughing; Brittany laughs along with her, pleased that Santana's so amused. "That's…" Brittany pauses. "Ten letters."

She kisses Santana's lips. Her nose. Her left eyelid. Her right eyelid. Her temple. Her ear. Her neck. Her shoulder. The palm of her hand. And back to her lips.

"You know what?" Santana asks. "Enough of this game…I'm just going to kiss you as many times as I damn well please."

She kisses Brittany's mouth, her collarbone, her mouth again, her pulse, her belly button. She kisses her mouth….She kisses her mouth….

Brittany does write her a love letter. Or more like a love note.

"I didn't want to write one big letter," Brittany says, "because I'd rather write you lots of little ones."

She slips it to Santana after TroubleTones practice one day. Santana takes it like it's a diamond. She starts to open it, but Brittany halts her with a gentle hand.

"Don't read it now, silly," she says. "Read it later, when you get home." She kisses Santana's cheek. "Maybe before bed."

Santana doesn't wait that long: as soon as she gets home, she unfolds the loose-leaf paper – it's soft, and slightly wrinkled from its time in Brittany's pocket – and reads Brittany's words to her.

San,

In econ right now. It's pretty boring, so I'm sneak-eating some Jolly Ranchers and thinking about what kind of fish I'd want to get if I ever got a fish. And I'm also writing you this love letter (duh).

We're talking about supply and demand and Mr. Barden is trying to explain it to us but no one really gets it. He says the relationship between price and demand is that if price goes up, demand goes down. But I don't think it ever worked like that with us, because the more our love costs, the more we want each other. And he says the relationship between price and supply is that if price goes up, supply goes up. I do think that's true for us, because as we've had to pay a bigger and bigger price for loving each other, we've just ended up more and more in love.

Last year I thought I couldn't love you any more than I already did, but this year I've seen that I was totally wrong about that.

I love you because of your laugh. I love you because you're snarky. I love you because you cleaned Ashley's cuts that time she fell off the swings when we were babysitting her. I love you because of your eyes. I love you because of the way you sing to me. I love you because you're grumpy in the morning. I love you because when you're truly happy, you're not afraid to show it. I love you because of your heart. I love you because you love me.

Can we write love letters all the time? Because this was fun.

I love you.

B.

Santana reads the words and her heart swells, her throat clogs up. She reads and she thinks about how she thought she'd never have this sort of happiness. But these tiny words on a page – these small encapsulations of love shrouded in her girlfriend's handwriting – remind her that she has it now.

Santana calls Brittany on the phone. Brittany answers with a laugh and says, "You read it already, didn't you?"

"How'd you know?" Santana asks, her voice thick.

"Because I like just dropped you off," Brittany says. "What else would you be calling about?"

Santana laughs. She takes a breath and says, "This is the most special thing anyone has ever given me."

Brittany makes a tender noise. "Well…you're the most special thing I have."

"I want to write you one back."

"Good. Do it."

"For now though, can I just tell you something?"

"What?"

"I love you," Santana says. Even after saying them hundreds of times, she still can't wrap her mouth, her mind, her heart around those words. "I love you. I love you."