A/N: Hey everyone! Thank you for giving this story a chance, and thank you for coming back! :) I didn't receive many reviews but the response through Story Alerts and Favourites was AMAZING! So I want you to know how much I appreciate it. I know it might seem a little slow getting started but I promise the stride will soon pick up so bear with me. I will be alternating between POVs... so this one is from Brittany's. Hope you enjoy!
Teaching was never something I'd imagined I'd end up doing, primarily because the words 'stupid', 'dumb', and 'idiot' were often uttered towards me at school. I wasn't stupid, not at all actually. I was naiive and wanted to believe in the good in everyone and everything, and after making one silly comment in 8th grade, when I mistook euthanasia, for youth AND asia (long story, let's not get into it), I fell into the typical stereotype of a 'dumb blonde'. It was easier to go along with it rather than outwardly prove everyone wrong. My teachers were amusingly confused when my grades didn't mirror my quirky comments in class and I figured, hey, if my grades are good and I pass my classes, why bother wasting time trying to prove myself to anyone. And so I carried out my school life under the pretense of a false archetype.
What I really wanted, was to be was a dancer. I remember watching a tv documentary about some New York ballet group when I was four years old, the details of the show I can hardly remember, it was the grace and diligence the dancers exhibited in executing each move that struck me; I ached to be like them, to have people watch me perform in that same awe. My ever supportive parents signed me up for dance class that same week and the rest, as they say, is history.
My love of dance never faltered. I channeled it into other areas, such as gymnastics and cheerleading, at school to broaden my abilities. I was already lucky enough to have been naturally gifted with great co-ordination but I wanted to be the best and I was ready to work hard in order to succeed.
After high school I tried out college for a bit, I guess it was the social expectation more than anything else that's to blame for that decision. All my friends were headed to college; it would have been outside of the norm for me to stay behind. But my parents never forced me into anything, they supported me no matter what I chose to do. However, I won't deny that they were extremely happy when I came home one afternoon after a meeting with the school's guidance counsellor and announced my plans to go to NYU and study journalism. I figured I could stick with dancing as a hobby, but I needed to be realistic, what could a little dancer from Lima, Ohio, really accomplish in the big bad world? I needed a solid career plan.
This plan all seemed great in theory but once I got to New York, I realised how foolish I was being. It was almost as if the city had infected me with hope and determination. I dropped out of college after the first semester in favor of the stage.
I had accompanied a friend of mine to an audition for Hairspray on Broadway, initially I had only tagged along for moral support, but being surrounded by all those people that shared my passion for their art got to me and I spontaneously applied. The audition worked out well for us both, Blaine was a little disappointed at first, receiving the role of Corny instead of his desired role as Link, but in true professional fashion, he accepted the role graciously and owned it. I could carry a tune but I was nowhere near good enough to even humour the idea of taking centre stage, but delighted upon receiving a minor role as one of the chorus dancers on the Corny Collin's Show, Brenda.
Sadly, my stint on Broadway was short lived, lasting only 8 months before I grew restless. Although I adored the adrenaline rush the stage and audience fed me, I needed something else, but I wasn't quite sure what that was. Blaine too, had begun to outgrow his role, eager to try something new. We were both very aware of how lucky we were to be employed in our respective areas, especially in New York, where singers and dancers were a dime a dozen, but we were ambitious and confident enough in our abilities to know that we had not yet reached our peak. And so, we left that May with no solid plan for the future.
Blaine moved on to his next Broadway venture after four months of failed auditions and won the title male role in Spring Awakening; through the Broadway grapevine, I had encountered another dancer, Mike Chang, who was in the process of setting up his own dance studio. I helped him get it off the ground and it was here that my love of teaching dance transpired. I thrilled in watching others push through their limits and the joy that washed over them when they accomplished a new move. I knew now what I was meant to do. Mike and I grew close, but merely in the platonic sense, in fact, he soon began dating one of Blaine's co-stars, Mercedes. The four of us became inseparable, spending most of every day with one another, but once again, I started getting antsy. Blaine often joked that I had commitment issues, making me incapable of sticking with one thing for very long and maybe he was right. Because, now here I am, right back where I started – Lima, Ohio.
I came home during the summer to visit my family. I hadn't been back to visit since moving to New York and figured perhaps all I needed was a change of scenery in order to return to a life of contentment back in the city. My vacation extended with every passing week, almost as if I was subconsciously avoiding going back, and when I saw an advertisement in the Lima Newsletter for someone to head the drama department at Lima's local private school, I saw my opportunity for the new start I was craving.
I was fortunate enough that the job didn't officially begin until October, so I had time to return to the city, tie up the loose ends and say my goodbyes. I hated the last part. All my friends had become such a huge part of my life, I'd be lying if I said the thought of being without them didn't scared me a little.
I had been briefed by the other teachers on what to expect from what they dubbed 'The October Meeting' or 'TOM', and I was slightly nervous at the thought of having to deal with pretentious rich people. I never really mixed with those of high status, all my friends were the artsy fartsy, walking cliché types.
The meeting pretty much lived up to every expectation, although, the parents didn't seem entirely as unfriendly as I had been led to believe. My new co-worker, Tina, informed me it usually took a few weeks before they became a proper pain in the ass, so I was wary about my first opinions and thinkings. But there was one parent that I simply could do nothing but think about. Santana Lopez.
I had heard her name come up in passing in the teacher's lounge on the afternoon of the meeting, while we discussed potential roles for each parent with the head of the PTA, Laura something... But what I was met with that evening was an entirely pleasant surprise.
My eyes locked on her immediately as I entered the room. I had intended on taking a quick glance over the crowd before I addressed them; the second my eyes found her dark ones, I was a goner. She was the epitome of beauty - her long dark hair fell loosely around her shoulders, she wore light make up with slightly smokey eyes but it was easy to tell she was just keeping up appearances for she obviously had no reason to wear make up at all, she was dressed smartly in a navy coat with a white shirt underneath, but it was those eyes that I couldn't get enough of. A girl could drown in those eyes.
I had tried to speak to the room as a whole when introducing myself, but my attention kept falling back on to the stunning Latina in the middle of the room. I feared I was being too obvious when I noted her staring at me with a curious look I couldn't quite place, but I shook it off.
I cursed the parents who insisted on coming up to talk with me afterwards when I noticed the dark haired beauty lingering. I usually had a great deal of time for anyone, but I wanted nothing more than for the rest of the room to clear out so I wouldn't miss my opportunity to talk with the main object of my interest. Tina had pointed the woman out to me after the meeting drew to a close, and informed me that she was in fact, Santana Lopez, and my stomach tightened at the thought of working with this woman so closely in the coming weeks.
She came up to greet me first and I inwardly applauded myself for the cool demeanor I managed to pull off in her presence, even managing to insert a slight flirtatious tone to my voice. We shook hands for longer than was necessary as I attempted to work out if we might, by some lucky twist of fate, play for the same team. She certainly seemed at least somewhat interested, but perhaps that was just my wishful thinking.
Her phone rang and my heart sunk when I heard the tone of endearment in which she handled the call. "Hey sweetie... Yeah, I'll be there soon. Love you too." Of course this woman wasn't single, just look at her! Still, I couldn't shake this unrecognizable feeling I got when we address one another and decided to throw in a little more flirtation into my departing words, unsure if she picked up on it or not.
I berated myself the whole way home for my behavior. As soon as I reached the parking lot, I realised how utterly inappropriate I had been. Santana was a parent of one of my students and from the sounds of it, was already involved. Stupid Brittany.
I began my first official teaching day on the Wednesday. It was here that I had my first encounter with the little Lopez. I picked her out from the moment I walked through the door. She was a carbon copy of her mother, with the same tanned skin and long dark hair. What I found curious though, was their different last names. Tina had presented me with a class list - a picture of each child accompanied their name as well as the names and contact numbers of their parents. Emily Puckerman, was the name next to her picture and although her father was indeed, also titled 'Puckerman', it struck me as odd that Santana did not share the same title. Of course, I am more than aware that there are many very plausible reasons behind why Santana had a different last name, but give me a break, I was holding on to any shred of hope I could grasp. I mentally reprimanded myself once again at the unprofessional-ness of my thoughts.
I naturally showed a light favouritism for Emily, I couldn't help it. I like to think that it had more to do with the child herself, and her sassy, confident attitude, than her mother, but who am I kidding?
The other kids were great too, I could tell I would enjoy this place, as long as the demanding parents I had heard so much about, stayed at a safe distance.
Even though I was more nervous than I care to admit about Friday and working with Santana, I couldn't stop the excited feeling I got at the thought of it. I found myself fretting about what clothes to wear and how I should style my hair. It was ridiculous really. The only practical clothing would be sweatpants and a t-shirt, and I knew I had no choice but to scrape my hair back, I hated when it clung to my neck once I got sweaty while dancing, but I wanted to impress Santana. Yes, I realize that by entertaining any kind of romantic notion about the woman I had spoken to for half a second, that was, as it appeared, unavailable, was not only unprofessional, but also kind of pathetic, still, I couldn't help myself, I literally had to force my mind to stop thinking about her.
Friday came excruciatingly slowly. I sat alone in the auditorium, planning out the audition plan and schedule for the winter musical. The kids wouldn't be arriving for rehearsal for at least another 20 minutes and although I usually took this time to warm up, today was too filled with nauseating, excited anticipation to even contemplate such motion.
I was so deep in concentration, I didn't notice anyone enter the room.
"This seat taken?" I looked up towards the slightly husky voice, to see the face of the woman that had been invading my thoughts all week, gesturing to the seat on my right.
"No. Please, go ahead." I smiled, once again thanking whoever was looking out for me for keeping me cool under such a situation.
"So, what's that ya got there?" She enquired, craning her neck a little to peek at what I was working on.
"Nothing really, just the audition schedule. If you have any tips, feel free to share. After all, you're the season pro here." I winked to finish my sentence and inwardly cringed. Why on EARTH would you WINK at her you idiot? I could feel the redness rush to my cheeks at my careless gesture and attempted to avoid looking in her direction, seemingly finding the page in front of me suddenly extremely interesting.
She let out a whispered chuckle, and it calmed me somewhat, removing most of the tension that had risen around me. "I wouldn't exactly call myself that, I hear that's more your area of expertise." She nudged my elbow and I tensed slightly at the contact. Was she flirting? Or just being friendly? When I remained silent, she continued, "Besides, I doubt I'd be much help, I pretty much managed to offend most of the parents in some way or another last year while captaining the Titanic."
I appreciated her attempt to lighten the mood and lifted my gaze so as not to be rude, offering her a shy smile, "It couldn't have been that bad, surely?" I was grateful at how she manipulated the conversation so it had returned to one of comfort, and was actually surprised by how easily our banter flowed.
"Oh, it really was. I was actually surprised they even wanted me back this year."
We both laughed at this statement, even though it wasn't particularly funny, it just seemed like the thing to do.
Momentary silence fell over us. We sat there, continuing to stare at one another, an odd tension building once again, but this time it was clear neither of us knew how to break it. It was an strange kind of atmosphere to find yourself in with someone you don't know at all and I wasn't exactly sure how or why it had arisen or what, if anything at all, that it meant.
"Sorry I'm late, traffic was chaos." A slightly familiar voice broke our overly long gaze.
We both looked in the direction the intrusion had come from only to find another woman, who I vaguely recalled meeting the other night and recognized as Ms. Connor. Tina had also made a point of catching me up on her, yesterday at lunch.
Anita Connor was a recent divorcee, but it had apparently been a long time coming, she had somewhat of a reputation for being a lot less than faithful. Tina assured me that out of a lot of the parents, she was far from the worst, but told me to be wary of her and her tendency for coming on to any adult with a pulse. Her husband had finally walked out on her after walking in on her with mistress number two – he had previously also discovered she had had a short lived affair with their pool boy, but word on the gossip mill was that he overlooked that incident as though nothing had happened.
Anita stopped in her tracks as she neared us, clearly sensing the tension, she gave us a quizzical look, "Am I interrupting something?"
Santana looked back at me for one last awkward second before shaking her head and clearing her throat. "Not at all, Anita. We were just discussing the audition plan."
The rest of the afternoon was a little less successful than the previous days. I had spent the week acquainting myself with my class, playing 'getting to know eachother' games, so today was the first day of us actually attempting something artistically productive, and to my dismay, I quickly learned how accurate Santana's earlier 'Titanic' statement really was. These kids showed hardly any interest at all in so much as attempting to learn the choreography, choosing to make up their own instead. In fact, the only child that put in any effort was Emily.
I watched her curiously as she nailed every move, and watched her mother even more curiously as she beamed with pride. Even though I didn't know Santana, she didn't strike me as the overly maternal type, yet here she was, the every depiction of a proud mama.
I also quickly learned that Anita's reputation was extremely warranted. She leaned unnecessarily close to me whenever she had something she wished to discuss, watched with obvious, unadulterated lust during my dance demonstrations, and used any excuse to brush against me. I continuously stole glances in Santana's direction, trying to gage her reaction, if she had any at all. Really hoping to catch some hint of her inclination, but receiving nothing. She was completely immersed in her daughter, which would have likely made me somewhat frustrated if it wasn't completely enamoring. I did however, think I caught her chancing one or two looks my way every so often, and what I could have sworn was a very dangerous glare at Anita at one point. If looks could kill... But I brushed it off, she really didn't seem interested in me at all. I put our earlier tension down to my own awkwardness and attraction and figured the looks were all part of this wistful imagination I had going on.
Two o clock came and the bell sounded. All the children were quick to evacuate which I was grateful for as I had been left with a pounding headache after today's session.
"You were great today, Brittany." I looked up from tying my shoe lace to find Anita staring down at me hungrily. I self consciously stood up, covering my chest, exposed by my low cut top, intended on impressing Santana.
"Uhm, thanks."
"I look forward to our next session. Maybe you could come over sometime and give Dean some private lessons?" I cringed under her intense gaze. There was something uncomfortable and sleazy about the way she looked at me. While I usually would have no problem offering extra classes to any child who requested them, I was beyond reluctant to acquiesce to her request. Her behavior aside, her son Dean, was a brat. He walked around with a cocky air about him and I had noticed his less than friendly interaction with the other children. I didn't condone it and I certainly wouldn't agree to spending more time with him than I had to. But I thought it rude to bluntly refuse, so tried to be tactful in my decline of the offer.
"I would be happy to give Dean extra help if he needs it, but I don't do private classes. I would be more than happy to bring up the idea of extra classes to principal Hudson though." I offered with a smile. Her expression had faltered however and was now a mixture of pissed off combined with deflated rejection.
"Yeah. Fine. I have to go, I'll see you next week." She grabbed her jacket and purse from the back of the chair and made a swift exit.
I blew my cheeks out in a relieved release of air, turning around, I stopped short when I notice Santana staring in my direction, her hands paused in motion in her bag. I offered her a soft smile, which she returned, shaking her head and chuckling lightly in amusement.
"She's a piece work."
I looked towards the door Anita had just left through and couldn't hold back a chuckle of my own.
"Tell me about it. I thought the other teachers were blowing her out of proportion... Clearly not." I turned my gaze back towards the raven haired beauty, about to say something, when she spoke first.
"She's not wrong though." I looked at her in confusion. She seemed to have noticed this, elaborating, "When she said you were great. You really were. I've never seen Emily so focused."
There it was again, the stomach clenching. I felt a blush creep across my cheeks at the compliment. "Well, she's a great student. She works hard."
Santana smiled, and I silently rejoiced at it being directed towards me. "She is."
"I mean it. She shows real potential. I'd be happy to give her extra classes if dance is something she's interested in." I bit my lip as soon as the words left my mouth. Was that too eager?
Santana merely looked amused, a cheeky smirk gracing her gorgeous features. "Thought you didn't do private classes?"
I noticed a twinkle in her eye and her voice lowered in what appeared unmistakably flirtatious. Her tone was teasing and I was wary that I may have confused this for flirtation but I made the bold decision to respond in a mirroring tone. "I make certain exceptions."
She stepped closer to me but kept a decent distance between us. She paused and smirked. I lightly clenched my fists to steady myself. She bent down, picked her towel off the floor, and walked towards the door at a pace that implied her soon departure. My heart sank in disappointment that that was it and the realization washed over me that I had in fact misread and quite possibly fabricated any signals I thought I saw. My eyes fell to the floor, my mind racing with thoughts of my own stupidity, so I didn't notice Santana stop directly next to me, completely unaware of her presence until I felt warm breath ghost against my ear in a whisper,
"Well then, I guess we'll have to work something out."
And with that, she was gone.