"Honey, I'm home!" I shout as I pushed Brittany's apartment door open. No, we do not live together. But she gave me a spare key because we're in this level of a relationship. No, she's not my girlfriend – yet. I will be asking her later. And, duh, yes, I am in love with Brittany S. Pierce.
No response came back to my very hilarious entrance, but I didn't mind. I allowed myself in, and set down the box of pizza I brought for us. Man, was I hungry. Brittany must be, too. I was kept waiting at the jewelry store because, apparently, I didn't like the way they engraved 'BP ∞ SL' at the necklaces I meticulously chose. The engraftment seemed rush, and nothing about Brittany and I was rushed. They sensed I was going to go Lima Heights on their soon to be sorry asses, so they redid everything whilst I impatiently waited.
Dinner is late. And Brittany kept calling me, but I told her to stop calling. I know, I know – I phrased it carelessly and awfully. But I was mad at the jewelry store, and talking to Brittany would only make me more anxious than I already am. I'm going to ask her to commit, and that's a serious thing. I love her, sure, and I'm ready to be with her – but is she?
Well, yeah, declaration of a label shouldn't be made into such a grand occurrence, because if you think about it, everything Brittany and I will ultimately lead to this. But I thought I should make this a little more special simply because Brittany is very special to me.
I walked into her room, and saw her back facing me. Iknew she was mad. She didn't answer the door for me, nor did she kiss me hi. She just kind of ignored me.
"Britt," I say tentatively. "Baby, I'm here."
She still didn't face me, and she is being very stubborn. Most times it's adorable, and other times it's extremely adorable. It's the latter for now. When I got closer, I saw she looks like a child who got scolded by her dad. Her arms were crossed and she was pouting angrily. I was close to her back, and she won't even bat an eye to my direction.
"Britt, please look at me," I say directly to her ear. "I'm sorry I had to cut off your call. I didn't mean for it to sound like that. Stop being mad at me please."
She was looking glorious as usual, even with homey, comfy clothes. She had gray sweatpants and a loose white tank top on. I kissed the side of her upper arm because, well, I can.
Her tough exterior didn't stagger. She kept ignoring me, though she didn't walk away.
"I come bearing gifts in the form of pizza, can you forgive me now?" I say sweetly, not giving up on persuading her. "I'm sure you're hungry. I know I am." I kissed her exposed shoulder because actions speak depths than words.
She shakes her head no. There's a response. There's progress.
"I was out running an errand at that time, babe. No, the errand wasn't as important as you. It's always Brittany before anything else. I thought you know as much. But that errand was kind of a big thing so I had to have my attention undivided." I kissed her neck. Goosebumps aroused at the touch. "But I'm here now, and you have all of me. Will you stop ignoring me, please?"
She didn't say anything.
"I love you," I say like it was my last resort.
She finally turned to me and I held her by the waist. Yes. And she kissed me by the lips. Yes, yes. I missed her so much. I'm forgiven. I fell in love just a little bit more.
She asks hesitantly, "What was the errand about?"
I bit my lip, though maintained a steady eye-contact. "Do you really want to know? Already?"
"Yes…?" she says uncertainly.
"Um, it was about us," I answer just as unclearly.
"Yeah?" She urges me to continue, whilst running her hand by my arm. It's soothing.
"Yeah, Britt," I nod coyly. "I know you were lying when you said you weren't hungry. Let's just eat that pizza and I'll tell you."
"Okay," she smiles brightly and kisses my forehead. "I love you, too."
I was now on my third slice of pizza, and every slice gets me more anxious. I'm so close on asking Brittany. I'm going to make our shit realer. (Of course we were already so real even in the beginning.)
"San, why aren't you chewing your food? It's like you bite then you swallow immediately." Britt asks me, fully concerned. "You don't look fine."
"What? I'm fine," I say. "Don't mind me."
"Huh," my soon-to-be-please-god-girlfriend scoffs.
"Really," I tell her with enough conviction, so as the topic would be diverted away from me. "Why did you call earlier anyway?"
"I wanted you to come over. I called you at, like, 7 in the evening," she explains, "You kept turning down my calls until you completely chose to ignore them. Then that one time you did answer me, it was only to say 'B, stop calling me.' That was around 11. And then I got super pissed. So, yeah, that sums it all up."
"When you put it like that, it makes me feel like a total asshole," I mumble dejectedly. I felt like my chances of being Brittany's girlfriend just lessened because of the prior instance. I hope not. "I'm really sorry about it, Britt."
"I'm just stating what happened. You're not an asshole, San. I understand now you had an errand to run, whatever that was."
I dare you not to fall in love with such being. You will only fail.
"I can explain?" I prompted.
"Please do."
My tide of nerves subsided at their own will. I realized this is a moment I've been both dreading and awaiting. It could change everything.
"I was at the jewelry store," I began as I set down my remaining pizza slice. "I bought a necklace, and I didn't like what they did with it so I had them redo it – hence, me being occupied."
"Oh, why didn't you ask me to accompany you?"
"The necklace isn't for me; it's for you. And it ought to be a surprise, so I can't have you there."
"What?" Brittany's pale cheeks turned pink. "Santana…"
"Yeah, I'm serious," I tell her as I pulled the small, black velvety box from my jacket pocket. "It's kind of cheesy, but I, I wanted to do it anyway."
I gave her the box without opening it because I didn't trust myself to do it. It's not always like in the movies, I swear.
"Britt, you know I love you. I am in love with you. I have come to believe that love is not getting tired of someone, even if they are in their ugliest moods. You taught me that. You never gave up on me despite my horrible attitude. And if there's one person I would never get tired of, I know it's you. So," I inhaled a breath, "Will you be my girlfriend, Britt?"
She hasn't opened the box yet, nor has she uttered a direct answer to my question. Are these bad signs?
"When did you realize you were in love with me?"
My mind is a jigsaw, but I tried my best to emit coherence. "I don't think it's a one-time-epiphany thing, you know? Realizing you're in love isn't objective. Sometimes I get to wake up with you naked, sometimes clothed – but either way, everytime I see you there next to me, all I really wonder about is 'when did I get so lucky?' Realizing I am in fact in love with you happened gradually. I tend to deny it at first, but I knew it was a losing battle so I just caved in. My feelings for you only grew."
"Loving and being in love with someone is different, you know?" Brittany says as she toys with the box between her fingers. It's still unopened. "You can look out for a plant, but don't know how to tend it. You can know how to have sex, but not know how to make love. You can love someone but not be in love with them."
If Brittany wanted to say no, she could do just that. But nah-ah, she asks me love shit questions. I don't know if I could handle Brittany saying no, but, God, getting me out this agonizing limbo is very much welcomed.
"You're not in love with me, I get it," I shrugged fake-nonchalantly. Nothing about this is nonchalant. "But I am. I know I am. At least I tried, right?"
"I'm sorry to tell you this, Santana," she tells me gravely, "But you're wrong."
While I was left dumbfounded, Brittany was left smiling like a goof.
"Of course I love you! And yes, that includes me being in love with you. You're silly if you think otherwise. And, duh, Santana, I thought you were smarter than this; I'd die to be yours – with a label."
I was left with no choice but to laugh, still slow to process. "That's a yes, right? You're my girlfriend now?"
"Yes!" She says exaggeratedly, and grabs me by both cheeks to kiss me. Hard.
"You're mine now," she mutters after we parted. I pecked her lips again for preliminary measures.
"Yeah," was all I could say, still in a Brittany-induced high. "I'm yours."
"Won't you wear the necklace on me?" She bats her eyes on me teasingly.
"Whatever, Britt," I brush her off in abashment. "You haven't even opened it yet."
"Now that's not a nice way to start treating your girlfriend."
I just smiled at her goofiness. I will have no regrets about her and about us, I'm sure.
"Is it just me or do you get butterflies too when I think about the truth that you're my girlfriend now? It's like this one word intensifies everything. Knowing you're mine is a thing, but acknowledging it takes it to a whole new level."
"I definitely do," I say and kissed the tip of her nose. I grabbed the box from the table and popped it open. I shuffled to get behind her back and wear it on her neck, just as she requested.
When the accessory laid flat against her neck, all humor in her eyes vanished and was replaced by what I thought was tenderness. She looks down at the silver necklace and her endless blue orbs were twinkling. I have never seen Brittany smile so genuinely like she does right now. Seeing her this happy could keep me happy for a millennia.
"You're the best girlfriend ever," she mumbles in awe. "Thank you, Santana. It's so beautiful. Just like you."
"Psh," I brush off her compliment. "I'm just glad you liked it."
"Are you kidding me? I don't like it; I love it."
"I love you," I say for the fourth time of the day.
She hums the complement response as she pulls me in for a kiss. I just savored this very precious moment, and briefly wondered when my next visit to the jewelry store will be.