Hello everyone! Nice to be here on this lovely website. Here's a little peak into Santana's world. an attempt at a subtle look at Brittana. This is my first thing posted! I feel a sense of accomplishment. Please comment/review! Enjoy!

1.

There was something about singing "Turning Tables" that tore at me. I was not feeling sorry for Mr. Shue. No, I'm pretty sure that he has no idea what he is doing most of the time, and constantly dragging his off-the-handle girlfriends to Glee club for inspiration? Tacky. It wasn't even because of Ms. Holliday, who I generally like, even though she helped start this whole issue. The song just really pierced me. This whole deal with Brittany has just gotten so intense, the type of intense that even I have problems with. Brittany and I were always a thing. For as long as I remember. Even when she was sleeping with the whole school and I was on and off with Puckerman, she was always constant. She was my first kiss. Well, she wasn't really, but she was the first that I felt. The first that meant anything. I know that I probably shouldn't have been so distant, but it's just so much… Anyway, it wouldn't have been a problem if Artie, her stupid boyfriend, didn't put all those ideas in her head. Sure, she thinks he's some rolling knight that can shout his feelings about her everywhere he goes. This is Lima Ohio! I can't just tell everyone that I love her! No, like her. Kurt might be able to do that to the boys he likes, but I need to stay on top at this school, I can't afford to do any less. Even if I did love her, the sting of slushie in the face would be the least of my worries.

Santana slammed her car door, marching on the cracked pavement to her warm home. She closed the door to her dark room, leaning against the firm door frame and yanking off her tall heels. Running a hand through her thick black hair, she sighed, looking at her figure in the full glass mirror. She slid to the floor, legs splayed out on the red carpet, head leaning against the bed. Exhausted and overwhelmed, her tears made circles on her lap as she pulled out her phone and fiddled with the keypad. Heart hurting, and breathing in hiccup gasps she scrolled through her contact list.

Her body ached with longing and she stiffened in hesitation. Anticipation. Frustration.

S: Hey Brit. It's me. Can you come over?

Her finger hovered over the send button. Finally, like a meager act of defiance it smashed into the send button, and retreated like the brush of eyelashes against a warm cheek. Standing up, Santana smoothed her clothes, brushing her hair and glancing in the mirror.

Look aloof. Unattached. Indifferent. Remember, it's better without emotions

"I won't let you close enough to hurt me"

- Turning Tables by Adele