This will probably be a perpetual work in progress that is updated whenever inspiration strikes (and whenever I have time).

I was waiting for some sort of consequence from my kiss with Brittany in the weeks following the game – for people to whisper things behind my back or for things to get weird with our friendship – but nothing happened. Brittany never mentioned it after we linked pinkies at the party, although Puck had been hounding me for a week nonstop about a threesome until he dropped it when I stopped putting out for him and threatened to cut him off completely after that week.

My foot jerked when I felt a light touch against the sole, and I looked up from Britt's newest Cosmo when I heard her reprimand from the foot of the bed.

"You're going to get this polish all over my blanket if you don't keep still, Santana."

Her face was set in what she thought was a stern expression. Her left hand was trying to readjust my foot in her lap while she clenched the nail polish tight in her other. The whole scene was absolutely adorable, and I laughed. "Well, Britt–Britt, it's kinda hard to stay still when you're tickling my feet all the time."

Her face broke into a grin, and she tickled my foot despite my protest. "I'm almost done, so deal with it for a few more minutes."

She went back to work, focusing her efforts on the second coat of polish on my nails. I tossed the magazine to the side to watch her. Her face was about a foot from my toes, and her tongue was just slightly sticking out from between her teeth. I couldn't tear my eyes away from her lips, and my mind strayed back to the few seconds I was able to kiss them and how it – despite my mind telling me it was wrong – felt incredibly amazing. I wondered if kissing other girls would feel the same, or whether it was just Brittany's lips that were capable of making me feel that way. I wondered whether my friend was privy to a secret while I remained in the dark. A small part of me wanted to be let in on that secret. I continued to stare at her lips wondering if kissing them would feel as good as the last time. With that thought, a familiar fluttering sensation returned. I realized what I was doing and forced my eyes to her hands, shaking my head to clear those traitorous thoughts.

"Are you alright, Santana?"

Her eyes looked curious, though slightly concerned. Before I could stop myself, I blurted, "Why did you start kissing girls?"

Brittany's voice wobbled as she giggled. "What?"

Heat rushed to my face, and I felt stupid. "There had to have been a reason. You don't just…Whatever. Just forget it."

It was too embarrassing to attempt the conversation, so I tried to pull my foot from her lap, but her hands held it there. She screwed the cap back onto the nail polish bottle and set it to the side.

"Well, the first time was at a party" she started, her thumbs pressing into the sole of my right foot to work the tension from the muscles there. "and Jessica Stevenson – who was pretty drunk at the time – she kissed me, and I dunno…it just felt nice."

It made me feel a little better to know I wasn't the only one who thought a girl's kiss was pleasant. "Is it really that different from kissing a boy?"

She smirked at my question. "You and I kissed. You tell me, Santana. Is it that different?"

While I would begrudgingly admit I enjoyed our kiss to myself, there was no way in hell that I would ever voice it out loud, even to Brittany, so I changed the subject. "You have every guy in the school tripping over themselves for the chance to hook up with you. Why would you waste your time kissing girls?"

It looked as if Brittany were thinking hard about my question and choosing her response carefully. After a few seconds, she said, "It's like ice cream. Sometimes you want vanilla and sometimes you want chocolate. Sometimes it's hard to choose which one you want, but you don't always have to choose. If you're comfortable with it, you realize it's possible to have whatever you want whenever you want. They're both delicious."

She shrugs as if it were that simple. And maybe for her it was. I couldn't wrap my mind around the idea of having the freedom to choose whether I wanted to kiss a guy or a girl, but that was Brittany in a nutshell, and once again, I found myself envying her openness.

"So, you like kissing girls?" I asked.

Brittany nodded, checking to see whether my nails were dry before swapping my right foot for my left and continuing her massage. The intimate touch felt a little uncomfortable to me but not entirely unpleasant. Brittany was actually very good at it. She naturally communicated through touch, so it shouldn't have surprised me.

Maybe it was because her touch has always been comforting. Maybe it was because Brittany has always been so open about her thoughts and feelings. Maybe it was because I knew she was the one person that would never, ever judge me. But I found myself asking her, "Have you ever had sex with a girl?"

Inwardly I cringed when I heard how much curiosity leaked into my voice, as if my subconscious was genuinely interested in what it was like. Immediately, I put a stop to those feelings. I wasn't gay, after all.

"I've already told you who I've been with. There's only been two guys, remember?"

"Yeah, I know. I just thought that you might have…and not told me."

Brittany smiled and rubbed her palm reassuringly over my calf. "I tell you everything. No secrets, right?"

She held up her right pinkie finger as a reminder of what we'd promised when we were seven. I grabbed it with my left.

"No secrets," I said. I hesitated before continuing. "But would you ever sleep with a girl?"

"Santana, if you're horny you can just use my bathroom to –"

I felt my heart jump into my throat. "What? No! God, Britt, I didn–"

Her laughter filled the room. "Relax, I'm kidding."

My heart was beating a mile a minute, and I had no idea why. I felt her squeeze my foot again, and I looked up from my embarrassment. Her eyes were warm and sincere. Instantly, my heart slowed.

"If the opportunity presented itself and if it felt right…I dunno. I suppose I could. It's all about what feels right, isn't it?"

"Aren't you afraid of people thinking you're gay?" I asked.

Her face scrunched in confusion. "But I like boys, so I can't be gay, right?"

"Bisexual, then," I clarified.

"I don't know what I am," she shrugged. "All I know is that I like kissing boys, and I like kissing girls. I've had sex with boys, and I'm not afraid of doing it with girls, and it shouldn't matter what other people think."

"But it does matter, Britt," I insisted. "People are complete assholes if they think you're different – if they don't think you fit the mold."

"Being like everyone else is boring. I like being me."

I admired her bravery because that's what it was to me. Never in a million years did I think I could believe what she said could hold true for me too. I had been pressed into the mold, and I felt too rigid and fixed to possibly have any flexibility left in me.

"Anyway, I like doing what I like to do. It doesn't matter who it is because kissing just feels really good," she continued. "It's super relaxing."

Several boys have kissed me, and while some were absolutely awful, I have had very pleasant experiences while making out with them. But to call it relaxing? I was confused because I thought the point of kissing was supposed to have the opposite effect. It did for the boys I'd kissed, anyway.

Like a secret sixth sense, Brittany picked up on my confusion immediately. She had always been able to read me. "Have you not ever felt that way when you kiss Puck?"

"Um…" Kissing Puck was many things. Relaxing was not one of them because we usually didn't kiss for very long. Most of the time, kissing led straight to fucking. Puck wasn't bad with his mouth; he was just better with his fingers.

"If you can't answer that question immediately, then Puck is doing something wrong," she said. Then, without warning, Brittany jumped from her bed and moved to her iPod dock, which was set on top of her dresser across the room. A soft melody began to play, and I recognized it from her bedtime playlist.

"Brittany, what –"

She gracefully plopped herself down next to me. "I'm gonna teach you what to do so you can show Puck what he's doing wrong."

It took a few seconds what her words actually implied to register in my brain, but as soon as it did, heat again flushed my cheeks. "No, no. I didn't say he was bad at it. Really, Britt, that's not necess–"

"He can be really good at kissing and still not know how to really be good at it," she explained, resting her hand against my thigh. "I just want you to see that it can be even better, and maybe Puck won't be in such a hurry to take his pants off next time."

If my face wasn't already flushed, it would have definitely been at that point. Brittany's ability to get straight to the point never ceased to amaze me. Even though I knew she was just trying to reassure me, her hand's movement along my leg was becoming very distracting, and I couldn't form a response. Brittany must have taken pity on my inability to speak because her hand stilled before she spoke again.

"It's fine if you don't want to, Santana. I just wanted to help," she said softly. Then she paused before adding, "I liked kissing you a few weeks ago. You're really good at it."

If words were forming in my brain to finally respond to her, they were completely destroyed when she said she liked kissing me.

Then I heard myself say, "You are too."

Brittany's tongue wet her lips, and her eyes darted to mine as she said, "This is selfish of me because I was hoping you'd say yes. I kinda wanted to kiss you again."

My thoughts were going crazy. I couldn't control the excitement and fear and anticipation that Brittany's words were giving me. I'd secretly wondered whether I'd ever be able to kiss her again and hoped that perhaps I'd have the chance to do so again at one of the summer parties we'd inevitably be invited to in the coming weeks – under the guise of a stupid party game and alcohol consumption, of course. Now that the opportunity had presented itself in the form of Brittany's open declaration and the privacy of her bedroom, I couldn't deny what I wanted – what we both wanted.

When I finally agreed, it was barely above a whisper. "Okay."

And I knew she heard me because her face broke out into a massive grin. I felt her palm slide from my leg to the mattress beside me as she leaned closer. Brittany licked her lips again, and I couldn't stop myself from mirroring her actions.

"If you don't like it, I'll stop," she promised.

I barely had time to let her know I understood by nodding when she finished closing the gap and pressed our lips together.

Her lips were just as soft as I remembered. Though I still felt incredibly awkward as we kissed, I felt less pressure. I supposed it was because there was no audience. Brittany's languid movements help set me at ease, and I finally felt the relaxed feeling she'd mentioned earlier.

Touching Brittany would have been too intimate for me to handle, and I was unsure of what to do with my hands, so I settled for grabbing the comforter in my fists instead of tangling them in her hair. As usual, Brittany had no reservations about her physical affection. My hips dipped with the mattress as she repositioned her hands on either side of them. The room started to spin when her tongue slipped between my lips. It felt as if the room was tipping me backwards. I tried compensating by leaning forward, but I realized it was Brittany who was gently guiding me down. Panic swelled within me as my head touched the pillow.

"What are you doing?"

"It's okay," she soothed, "This is going to feel really good. You're super tense right now. It's supposed to be relaxing, right? It's easier to relax when you're lying down."

Through the fog in my brain, her logic was flawless. I couldn't argue with her. It did feel better lying down. Even better when she settled her weight on top of me. The room suddenly got hot when that flashed through my head. What we were doing was beyond any intimacy I'd ever experienced – even with Puck.

Despite my discomfort at being so close to her, I couldn't move a muscle. I was paralyzed underneath her. Then she brought me back to life when she kissed me. It wasn't frantic, but our kissing had definitely lost the slowness with which it started. I could almost feel my body melting into the mattress, her body pressing me into it as she straddled my hips. I caught her bottom lip between my teeth when I felt her fingers slide through my hair. My fists gripped the blanket tighter.

Brittany broke the kiss and rested her cheek against mine. Her fingers were still scratching lightly against my scalp when she breathed into my ear.

"You don't have to keep your hands to yourself."

I was afraid of what my body would do if I didn't hold on to her comforter as if my life depended on it. Because the way I saw it, my life did depend on it. In the back of my mind, I was terrified with my behavior. Everyone I knew (save for Brittany) would be appalled at what I was doing, but I couldn't stop. Brittany's kisses along my jaw and behind my ear pushed those fears away. All I could think about was Brittany's amazing mouth and what I would do to her if my hands ever let go of that blanket.

My plan was working, and I had every intention of keeping my hands buried in her covers. But then her tongue began a trail down my neck, nipping the skin as she worked her way down, and I lost control. I wrapped my arms tight around her waist, gripping my elbows with my fingers to prevent them from seeking soft skin. A mark was forming on my neck, but I didn't care. I'd deal with hiding it from Puck later. I just turned my head to the side and gripped her closer to me. I heard Brittany whine, and suddenly we were kissing again.

Time evaded us. I didn't know exactly how much time had passed until I heard a soft knock and her mother's voice right outside her room.

"Are you girls in there?"

I pushed Brittany away and scrambled to get out from under her. My legs tangled in hers and I fell off the side of the bed just as the bedroom door was gently opened. It felt as if my heart were going to beat its way out of my chest. I kept my line of vision focused on the various items shoved underneath Brittany's bed. It was too terrifying to even consider meeting her mother's eyes. I glanced at Britt. Thank God she was wearing her hair down because a skewed ponytail would only make it more obvious as to what Carolyn had just interrupted.

"Santana, sweetie, why are you in the floor?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. There was no reasonable explanation for what I was doing. Fortunately, my best friend was able to speak up for me.

"We can't find one of her sandals. I thought Lord Tubbington might have dragged it under the bed. You know how he likes to hide things."

I refrained from cringing. It wasn't the best lie, but at least I was actually barefoot. I chanced looking in Carolyn's direction. Her eyes were narrowed slightly in consideration as she processed her daughter's lie. I prayed silently for her to believe it. The situation was already awkward enough without having to come up with a second story.

After a few agonizing seconds, she gave us a small smile. "Are you staying for dinner, Santana? Joe is making hamburgers."

All I could do was nod dumbly. Carolyn smiled at us again, told us everything would be ready in ten minutes, and closed the door behind her as she left.

A shuttered breath left my body. I drew my knees up to my chest and rested my head against them. My entire body felt shaky. Brittany slid from the bed and sidled up next to me. Her hand was gentle as she combed through my hair and rubbed my back.

"Are you okay?" Her voice was soothing, a perfect complement to the paths her palm was traveling along my spine.

"That was too close, Britt. Way too close."

A soft breath blew by my ear when she rested her chin against my shoulder. When she spoke, I felt her voice rumble through my chest.

"I guess we can be thankful that my mom learned her lesson about knocking after walking in on my cousin Brian when he was staying in the guest room a few years ago."

My stomach felt sick at the thought of what would have happened had Carolyn just walked in. The feeling got worse when I wondered whether she knocked because she suspected something was happening behind closed doors.

I swallowed thickly. "Do you think she knew? Is that why she knocked?"

Her fingers slid through my hair again. "No. She's always respected mine and my sisters' privacy…especially after seeing what boys do behind closed doors."

I laughed. I couldn't help it. Brittany was always so good at diffusing tense situations. I lifted my head to look at her. She was grinning, pleased as always that she had managed to calm me down. I felt her kiss my temple and then she stood, grabbing my hands and lifting me from the floor.

"Okay, ignoring the fact that my mother scared the bejesus out of you with her awful timing…how do you feel? Are you relaxed?"

As much as I wanted to, I couldn't fight off the smile that snuck its way onto my face. "Yeah, I am."

"Good. I'm glad it worked," she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the door. "Come on, I'm starving."