Digging her nails into her palms, Santana waited for Blaine to start firing questions at her- why had she never mentioned she was going away to college? Why was Puckerman the one carrying her things in instead of her family? What had happened to Brittany?

But the questions never came. It seemed that, unlike most people, Blaine was perfectly content to live in silence instead of filling the elevator up with awkward moments or unnecessary conversation neither of them cared about. With a ping they were greeted to the eighth floor, and Blaine walked wordlessly to his door, setting down the huge box he was carrying, undoing the lock and then holding the door open for Santana to step in, still always the gentleman.

Sitting down on the corner of his bed, she crossed her legs and looked around, noticing that he had a private, too. Watching as he started shuffling things out of the box- random things, like his guitar and a poster for a band Santana had never heard of- she said, "So, you got a private too? I figured it was easier than living with some bitch who ate all my food or something- same thing for you?" she gave him a half smile, watching as he ran his palms against his sweatpants and shrugged, not making eye contact with her.

"Yeah, you could say that." he mumbled, situating the poster to make sure it was perfectly even. There was a pause in conversation then, and he moved to sit in the chair beside of his desk. Santana couldn't help but think that he really must have been scared to get near her if he wouldn't share a queen-sized bed with her mushed into one of the corners.

This was more than a little awkward. The two of them had been friends when he transferred schools- they had even had a few duets together, and found themselves gravitating toward each other in group settings. But it was obvious, an imperceptible feeling in the air, that the two of them were both hiding something and neither wanted to be the one to point it out.

So much for starting over completely fresh.

Santana couldn't just sit in the silence for hours, so she figured she might as well get the awkwardness over with. "How come you never mentioned you were coming here?" she asked, and he looked up at her and grinned.

"How come YOU never mentioned you were coming here?" he shot back, and she made a face. She always knew that he was one of the only people who would try to remind her she wasn't in charge.

"You first." she responded, raising her eyebrows, not caring that she sounded like a little kid.

"Wasn't completely sure until about a week ago... I had other plans." He said finally, and she knew that there was something there that she was missing, and she'd have to figure out what later. It felt like bad karma to pounce on him when he had been so nice to her... No matter how badly she hadn't wanted to accept the kindness. "What about you?" he added, and she grinned.

"Oh, you know. Didn't want to jinx it, I guess." That was a more honest answer than she'd intended, and she was suddenly rethinking being in this room. Blaine's courtesy and charm was bringing out the best in her, which she always felt like was the worst thing to show to the general public.

"Where's Brittany?" he asked, attempting to look her in the eyes, but she refused to meet them.

"Fuck if I know." she snapped, and she waited patiently for him to change the subject, but when he didn't, she added half-heatedly, "Lima." Saying it made it worse, and she wanted to counteract it. "Where's Kurt?"

"New York." Blaine said with a definiteness in his voice. Santana had always been good at reading people- he said it like he was prepared for the question and had braced himself to answer.

"Oh." she mumbled, looking down at her fingernails again. She had always heard that Kurt and Rachel wanted to run off to New York and attack the broadway world, but she never actually expected them to do it- and she had never expected Blaine to say in Ohio while Kurt went off to New York, for that matter.

Maybe that was what Blaine was thinking- he never expected Santana to leave Brittany behind. But to be fair, she had never expected that either.

Santana had expected putting Blaine on the spot to make her feel better, but in reality, she thought maybe both of them felt a little worse.

"I have to... I have to go to the store." he said suddenly, looking around. "I have no food." he was trying to be funny, she knew, but following his eyes she realized he literally didn't have any food. "You can come if you want, I dunno if you need anything..."

What Santana needed was her car back. What Santana needed was for her goddamn key to work, for Puckerman to have not fucked up her sheets, for Brittany to not still be in Lima, and for Blaine Warbler to not be so nice to her.

"Yeah, actually." she stood up, stretching like she'd been sitting there for hours. "That sounds like a good idea."

His car was a Jetta. Cute but not too fancy, pretty plain compared to the truck she had spent so much time with Puckerman in. When he turned his car on some Indie acoustic song started playing through the speakers- something real schmaltzy that sounded like the kind of thing you hear in a coffee shop or in an extra pretentious bookstore. She liked that instead of being embarrassed about it, he turned the music down so he'd be able to hear her if she decided to speak and left it at that.

Immediately, she did a good job of making herself comfortable, kicking off her shoes and sticking her feet up in the dashboard, waiting for him to protest. He didn't. Instead he looked over at her and grinned, turning back to look at the road as if nothing had happened.

"I bet you don't let people stick their feet up in your car." he teased conversationally. Santana wiggled her toes as she looked over to him, thinking over what she wanted to say.

"My car is in Lima, so I'm sure my Mom is sticking her feet all over it as we speak." she didn't want to sound bitter, but she knew he did, and she knew this was an opening to ask why she didn't have her car. He didn't take it, and she was grateful. Instead he started humming along to the music, expertly navigating his way through the city, and she closed her eyes and silently appreciated the calm atmosphere she had been placed in.

"I don't think anyone needs that much nutella, Santana." Blaine teased as Santana threw three jars into the cart. Turning to him, she scowled.

"If I can't have liquor, I will have nutella. Second-best option." she explained, and to her, this was perfectly logical.

Shopping with Blaine was quickly turning into this- both of them teasing each other about their weird purchases, praising each other for the things they happened to have in common. It was weird to Santana how easily they were falling into a pace, as if this wasn't just one day where he was helping her keep her head above water.

Once they were back to the car and had piled up the trunk with all the junk, Santana took her spot back in the front seat, feet on the dash, and watched as he weaved in and out of passing cars.

"How the hell do you know your way around here so well?" she asked, completely amazed. It was like he'd lived there all his life.

Blaine shrugged, as if he never really thought about it. "I came here a lot for football games, ever since I was a kid. You learn your way around."

Santana furrowed her eyebrows. "You like football?" she asked, sitting up a little straighter. This amazed her. It wasn't a gay stereotype- Blaine just didn't seem the type.

"There's a lot you don't know about me. Santana." he told her, and he was smiling while he said it, but all the same, she took it as a challenge.

"Wanna go to the bookstore with me tomorrow?" The words tumbled out of her mouth before she had even realized they were there. She didn't know why she asked, she didn't even know if she'd regret it in the morning, but it was there and it couldn't be THAT bad, right?

"I'm not buying you lunch or anything, but alright."

"Fuck you."

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