Santana Lopez was soft at heart. Sure, she had ridiculous guns and the fiercest glare this side of the Equator, but she wasn't that tough. Rather, she was quite fragile. What was important to Santana was that she had the ability to make the dweeb standing in her way think she'd beat him to a pulp if he didn't move, with purely a single raise of her eyebrow, even if she would never actually do it. Now that was badass. Mostly, Santana just knew how to get what she wanted. Her parents were both high-profile lawyers, who compensated for their absence by showering her with gifts, so Santana had always been spoiled and she knew exactly how to break them. A single pout of her lips and the new iPhone was hers. It was easy.
Santana Lopez especially knew how to get boys. She knew she was hot, duh, and mixing that in with a bit of attitude and playing hard to get? She had them hooked. Puck, Finn, Matt. It was easy. It was too easy.
For a while, Santana had pretty much believed she wouldn't fall in love and that was fine, since she didn't need anyone else. She had sex for the physical satisfaction and those couples that acted all romantic and loved up made her sick to her stomach. People got far too attached and dependent upon each other, and Santana had not only never felt that way, she had convinced herself she had no desire to either. [. Sex was fulfilling her primal urge, nothing more and nothing less.
But while she couldn't deny that sleeping with Puck was good, because damn it was amazing, it always felt like there was something missing. She felt like there was something else she was supposed to feel when she felt her partner's heartbeat thud in time with hers, when they pressed their lips together. Instead of wanting to curl up with the warm body next to her afterwards, she would just want to go home and sleep in her own bed, alone. She knew she didn't harbour any emotional ties to whomever lay next to her at night but part of her wondered what it felt like to do so. Santana used to wonder whether she was missing out and whether people in love felt something when the moment of passion was over, instead of the hollow emptiness that she was used to. But she always convinced herself that love wouldn't fill the barrenness because love was a fairytale, greatly exaggerated by the movies she watched it had to be, right? Santana found comfort in her delusions.
But then it hit her, like a freight train.. Brittany was meant to be just another person in her bed, just another fuck. Santana had ignored the warning signs from her body since the first time they kissed, chaste and sweet after Cheerios practice one sunny afternoon. She had ignored every sign that screamed at her that this time it was different. This time it would mean something. Everything.
She'd been Brittany's first. Santana guessed that that would surprise some people, since Brittany had a reputation. The truth was that Brittany just liked to make out and that was always as far as she went. But unlike with the others, Brittany and Santana kept on kissing, day after day. Every minute they were alone, Santana pulled their bodies together and breathed in the sweet smell of mangoes from the body wash Brittany used, letting the scent wash over her.. It became an addiction. Santana began to crave Brittany's touch, whether she wanted to feel the blonde's hand in hers, run her fingers through her hair or even just lock their little fingers in their subtle, intimate way. Santana craved it all.
And then there was that time, when she was over at Brittany's house, her soft lips pressed against the blonde's, that Brittany had whispered the words that had stopped Santana's heart. Time moved quickly from there, a rush of hands, lips, fingers. Kisses from Brittany's lips spread fire across Santana's body, gentle touches from Brittany's fingers sent shivers down Santana's spine. Still, Santana ignored the warnings. She blocked them out, that deluded part of her brain still chanting, she's just like all the others; she's nothing special.
But then, as Santana and Brittany's bodies were pressed up against each other, and as sparkling blue eyes met brown, Santana had to bite down on her bottom lip to prevent those three, poisonous words coming out. The moment Santana realised that all she wanted to do was wrap her arms tighter around the girl and kiss her until her lips were sore; Santana knew she had to let go. She couldn't do this.
Because, while Santana had her dad wrapped around her finger, she knew there were rules she had to adhere to and a certain way that she had to be. It was why she was a member of that stupid Chastity Club and it was why she went to church with her parents every Sunday morning, even though she didn't really believe in God. She wasn't allowed to like girls, not like this. Technically, she wasn't allowed to be with boys, just yet either, but her parents would never find out about that. With boys it was easy. They purely satisfied her physical desire, nothing more. After that one time with Finn, she found it easy to leave him. There wasn't the danger of an emotional attraction, a connection that would leave Santana constantly longing for more and a need that she would fall prisoner to.
The moment she crossed that line with Brittany, the blurry line between best friends and something more, Santana knew she had to end it. She wouldn't be able to stop herself from kissing Brittany, not now that she knew what it felt like and how it was a hundred times better than she had dreamed it. She wouldn't be able to refrain from touching her, holding her close, endeavouring to make her feel the same wonderful rush.
If she kept it up the way she was, her parents would find out soon enough and Santana wouldn't be able to take losing everything; the shame, the humiliation, the disappointment in her father's eyes. She couldn't risk the wrong people finding out. So, the night of their first time together, instead of wrapping her arms around the girl next to her and snuggling into her neck, Santana ignored the ache in her heart from missing Brittany's touch, and moved to the other side of the bed, as far as she could go before she fell off. She brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around herself, blocking out every voice in her head that told her to move back towards Brittany. She's just like all the others; she's nothing special.
But she couldn't delude herself any longer.
The minute she heard Brittany's breaths slow and deepen, Santana let tears fall freely down her face.
Santana Lopez didn't fall in love. Santana Lopez wouldn't allow it.