It's so typical and cliché Santana hates it.
"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" their English teacher asks the class, of whom only a handful is listening.
Being the middle of winter, Santana thinks it a pointless notion to get kids to ponder summer. The majority of her peers had tuned out upon hearing the name Shakespeare, and then to wave in their faces how great a summer day would be right now is just plain stupid.
"Thou art more lovely and more temperate," Ms. Rogers tries again, searching the rows of students for an interested face. Santana merely raises a plucked eyebrow at her.
Some jock from the side of the room pipes up, "Didn't the dude write this for another dude?"
Snickers erupt in the room. Ms. Rogers sends Santana a panicked look to which she rolls her eyes at. She's fairly certain Kurt hadn't been shown any pity during his coming out – outted by a commercial or otherwise.
While their teacher desperately tried to rein back in the little attention she had, Santana let her eyes fall on the blonde beside her.
Brittany was staring out the window to her left, the back of her Koosh pen in her mouth and her closed binder on the desk in front of her. She wasn't hunched in her seat like Santana but leaning forward, ready to jump up when the bell rang. The washed out sunlight from the window reflected strangely off Brittany's hair, making its natural shine subtle, almost bluish.
Despite the cold, last weekend they had bundled up and walked from Brittany's house to get ice cream – chocolate for Santana and raspberry lemon-lime sherbet for Brittany, different from last week's pralines and cream. She had quietly explained how getting a different flavour every time was important so none of them felt left out. Santana had laughed and scouted extra close to her girlfriend when they slid into a booth – Brittany beside the window so she could doodle in the condensation collecting on the glass.
Ms. Rogers slaps her hand against the front board in a desperate attempt to gain attention. Santana rolls her eyes at the pathetic lesson her even more pathetic English teacher in conducting. Explaining words in other words is stupid and diminishing. It's as simple as that.
And then Ms. Rogers asks the class if they could think of anyone to compare to a summer's day, and Santana can't even bring herself to roll her eyes again.
She knows her summers have been shorter since she had met Brittany. Because comparing Brittany to a summer's day is pointless; she is a summer's day, snatched off the end of August or July.
Brittany glances over at her briefly, smiling when they meet eyes and mouthing, Hi.
Santana swears something vital inside her chest melts and she responds by mouthing back, Hey.
She vaguely hears Ms. Rogers point out all the flaws Shakespeare goes on to list a summer's day can hold. Santana thinks the man was overrated anyway.