All mistakes are mine.
Clicking 'upload' you lean back into your chair impressed with the video you've finally finished editing. It took a few days to finish editing your 'Me Against the Music' dance routine. Cutting clips and adding end screens takes its time. You're happy you finished before you had to get ready for work. You set yourself the goal when you woke up to complete your video before you left, and it worked.
Adding a title and a description to your new video, you let it finish uploading while you get ready for work. Taking your sweats off and skimming through your closet you find your work uniform.
Shimming on the skirt and pulling the zipper up from behind, you reach and pull on your blouse.
Taking a look in the mirror by your door, you take a look at your Spotlight diner uniform. Red skirt and a red sleeveless blouse with white buttons running up the lefthand side. The women's uniform is very short. Whenever you're wearing your uniform you make the conscious effort not to bend over by the waist.
You do think it's kinda unfair that the men's uniform is black pants and a red and black shirt. Definitely less revealing than the women's. But it reminds you of a time when you were a cheerleader at high school. And those were very good memories.
Smiling to yourself, your tie your hair into a bun and tuck away a few strands of hair that were missed. You grab your name tag and toss it into your handbag along with your keys and wallet.
Glancing at your computer, it looks like the video has finally uploaded. Pulling your phone out of your bra you type a message for everyone on Twitter.
'Hey Guys, new videos up! Get on the floor, baby lose control! How do we feel about some Britney?'
Tucking your phone away you yell out to your roommate. "Quinn, I finish at six." You yell while picking up your bag and heading for the door, not bothering to wait for her answer.
Pressing the down button you wait for the lift double checking you have everything.
When the doors open and you take a step in you are greeted with the same perfume from a week ago. Every single time you've stepped into the elevator since coming back from Mikes studio that day, you've been surrounded with the familiar smell.
It's quickly becoming your favourite smell.
When the elevator doors open, you dash out. When the bus stop comes into view you silently thank city traffic for being so horrible. Letting yourself catch your breath, you slow your half-assed run to a more casual walk.
Popping your headphones in, you listen to some music. By the time you start at work, it would be just before the lunchtime rush. And it's always busy in the diner. Glancing around while you take your phone out, you scroll through your twitter feed, liking some comments and retweeting peoples excitement for Britney. You let out a little snort when you read someone's tweet tagging Britney asking her to watch.
It would be surreal knowing someone you looked up to has seen your video, or even acknowledging you exist. You take a look at your video on youtube and smile. People are enjoying your latest video. 'Hearting' a few comments you put your phone away as the bus pulls up.
Taking a seat near the back of the bus, you start day dreaming. Imagine if Britney really does watch the dance video? What if she follows you back on twitter?
You picture yourself walking out from backstage onto the Ellen show, giving her a hug and a little dance before sitting down and talking about how you finally made it. You'd give a shout out to Quinn and to Mike. And of course your parents and little sister. You and Ellen would talk about dancing and what it was like to dance for Britney's come back tour. You would gush saying how close you are Britney are now, practically sisters! Then you'd play some silly game with Ellen and teach a few members of the crowd how to dance some of the now famous 'Me Against the Music' routine.
You're rudely interrupted from your day dream when someone's backpack is smushed up against your face. Pushing the bag away roughly you hope that's enough of a hint for the teen to take his bag off.
It doesn't. In fact, it's almost like he's now doing it on purpose now. You hate public transport, there's never enough space to be comfortable.
You actually jump out of the bus when you arrive at the bus stop near the diner. It's a short three minute walk, which is lucky because you start your shift in five minutes.
Speed walking behind the bar you put your belonging underneath the counter and take one the of the small white aprons.
"You just made it."
Looking around to see who was talking to you, you see Rachel holding a tub of dirty plates on her hip.
Rachel is not a manager, but she sure as hell acts like one. You make a mental note to remind yourself to go see Patrick, you actual manager on tonight, to apologise of your almost tardiness before Rachel gets to him. Because you just know Rachel will defiantly say something to him.
"Bus was late," You don't need to tell her, but you do anyway. "I'll take area two." You add taking your note pad and a pen. Not giving her a chance to object before you leave her standing there.
Everyone has their bad days, and today was one. You split someone's drink in their lap. You had a table of rowdy teenagers who didn't understand the concept of an 'inside voice'. You had a family that you had to bend over backward for, and they didn't tip you. You had an older regular of the diner ogle you the entire time you took his order. Then kept ogling you and making suggestive comments when you collected his plate. The only upside was that he tipped well.
Your shift today has been crazy. You haven't had time to even scratch your back, let alone take a moment for yourself. When six o'clock comes around you don't wait around like you usually do, talking to the chefs out the back and having a laugh when them. You take your belongings and take the bus back home. Ignoring the world and everyone in it. You can't wait to curl up in bed.
Stepping into the elevator you smile at the familiar scent.
Rocking on your heels as the elevator goes up you hope Quinn has prepared some sort of dinner. She didn't have class or work today. And the last thing you want to do is cook.
You questioned is answered when you spot Quinn in the kitchen humming to herself stirring a pot of pasta.
Quinn looks up for the stove and notices your deflated demeanor offering a friendly smile. "Tough day, huh?"
"You have no idea," You say taking a seat at the counter pulling out your tips. "I had a family of eight almost break my back for them. And they didn't even tip. Not to motion old man Pete was in my section."
Quinn scrunches her nose up in disgust. "I had him yesterday and he tried to smell my hair when I was collecting his plate."
"He's a creep! And we can't do anything because he's a 'harmless older gentleman." You huff holding your head in your hands mimicking Patrick.
Quinn nods her head in agreement dishing you up a plate. "How's your new video going?" She asks changing the subject while placing your plate in front of you.
"Not sure, I haven't checked all day." You unlock your phone guiding a spoonful of pasta into your mouth.
You get excited remembering your daydream from earlier. You hold your breath while the app opens and you go to your channel.
Three thousand views and a few hundred likes.
You know you should be happy with that. It's only been up for less than twelve hours. But you're disappointed. You wanted to come home and see this video with nine million views and six hundred thousand likes. Thousands of comments asking about the music or who you are. You believed this was the video to get everyone's attention.
Sighing, you push your phone away and take another spoonful of pasta. You had gotten your hopes up for nothing.
Quinn pops into your view with a that smile, and those puppy dog eyes you're all too familiar with.
"So…Noah is coming around tonight…" She trails off.
"Oh, no."
"Please!" She begs puckering her lips. "Just an hour or two. Then you're welcome to come back."
"Fine. One hour." You bring up a single finger to emphasise the single hour you're so generously giving her.
You roll your eyes as Quinn almost jumps over the counter to thank you. You don't actually mind Noah. You do think it was a little funny when he introduced himself as Puck, and Quinn had to jump in to explain that his first name was Noah, he just shortens his last name; Puckerman. The few times the two of you were in the same room together, he seemed genuine. And he makes Quinn happy, and that's all you could ever ask for.
You finish your dinner and decide to take a shower before Noah arrives. If you can't crawl into bed might as well wash away the lingering diner smell.
When you exit the shower you hear the front door open and hear a deep mumble. You take that as your ten minute warning and quickly get dressed. Finding Track pants and an oversized hoodie on the floor that smell acceptable. Picking up the rest of your dirty clothes that litter your bedroom floor, you choose that now is a better time than never to do your laundry. Dragging your laundry basket out into the living room you nod hello to Puck, ducking back into your room to grab a book and start the short walk to the laundromat.
Pushing your quarters into the point slot and waiting for the washing machine to start moving, you fall back into the chair. Opening your book you start reading. You've read three lines when the door opens and a gush of cold air runs into your hoodie. Snuggling further into your hoodie you go back to reading your book.
You don't understand how people can sit still and read a book, you're so distracted. Whenever someone walks in your looking over your shoulder to sus them out. You haven't finished the first page of your book, and you've reread the same six lines over and over again. Setting yourself a goal. You decide you won't look up until you've finished reading the first page.
You couldn't do it. Not even close. You're almost halfway when someone comes in, you force yourself to keep reading, but temptation wins and that's when you smell it. Smell her. You'd know that smell anywhere. You look over your should and see a beautiful raven haired Latina enter looking at her phone. When she strolls past, your nose follows her and the smell of her perfume. You can't believe your luck. You watch as she takes her clothes out of a dryer and places them on top of the table behind your row seats and starts to fold her clothes.
This has to be the woman who sprays her perfume in the elevator every morning. The chances that it's not, are slim to none!
"Can I help you?"
You almost smack your hand into your forehead when you realise she's seen you blatantly staring at her. Thinking quick you smile back at her. "Yes, actually. Your perfume, it smells amazing, what is it?" You say matching her polite tone.
Your heart flutters when she returns the smile. "It's Tom Ford, Soleil Blanc. It's my favourite, I've been wearing it a lot lately." The Latina continues to fold her sweater.
Turning your body completely in your chair to face her, tucking your legs under neither your body you find the perfect opening. "Funny you should mention that I smell it every single time I step into the elevator in my apartment complex."
The lady looks up from her neatly folded sweater eyebrows raised. "Do you happen to live in Blue Light?" She asks in mild surprise.
Grinning you nod your head yes. You need to take a moment to compose yourself when she brings her hand up to stifle her laugh. "That's because I do spray my perfume in that elevator every morning before I go to work. My work schedules changed and I'm still not used to waking up so early
"I see. That's why it's only been a recent thing." You nod in acknowledgment. "How long you been living at Blue for?" How have you never seen this woman before? She's gorgeous and defiantly someone you want to get to know.
"Over a year now, I think I moved in late November?" Her voice wavers with uncertainty.
Resting your elbows in the counter you prop your head up with your hands. "And how have I not met you until now?"
She laughs while she finishes folding the last of her clothes. "You tell me." She says with a hint of coyness. You did not see that coming. It almost felt like a challenge. A challenge to flirt with her back. Like she was testing the waters. You only realise she's leaving when she removes her washing basket from the table. You have never jumped up so quickly in your life.
"Wait!" You half shout. "I didn't catch your name."
She stops and leans against the door resting her basket against her hip. "It's Santana. So, will I be seeing you around stranger?" She begins to open the door to leave.
"It's Brittany and defiantly. I'll make sure of it."
Maybe today wasn't as bad as you thought.