July 14, 2008 - Monday
Interstate 75 near Lima, Ohio
Santana leaned over the hood of her pick-up truck that July mid-afternoon. The thin film of sweat adorning her pretty face glistened under the harsh afternoon sun. In her twenty-five years of being on the road, the summer of 2008 was the worst, and the hottest. She dabbed her left hand across her forehead, successfully wiping away the dust and the slick fluid spreading on her head as she went back behind the wheel.
"Come on now, just start...just start..." she silently prayed to the highest heavens that her beat-up Chevy would start. Having a beat-up Chevy for thistravel was bad enough, but her engine going off like that while she's stuck in Interstate 75 just like that is the final straw for her that day. Santana doesn't need it.
"I swear, if you don't start now..." Santana gritted her teeth as she turned on the ignition keys one more time, and the engine now spluttered to life.
"Yay, I knew you're my best friend Snix," Santana smiled as she closed the truck door. She started to drive someplace over the town of Lima, wishing that she would at least be able to find a cheap motel to stay the night.
However, her luck seemed to be out of nowhere's view, or she's just shit out of luck because one-thirds of a mile later, her engine broke down again.
"Oh no, not again," Santana groaned exasperatedly. The sun was getting hotter, she's getting desperate as the light of day started to fade. Sure, she can spend the night in the open road, but she can't spend the night without dinner.
Looking at her dashboard, she stared at the blinking orange icon, and she realized that she was running out of gas. There was no one around to help her, and she didn't know what she should do. She tried to look at her phone, but in her unfortunate streak of bad luck, her phone wasn't getting any service.
She did something she knew she had to do. She started to walk down the road, hoping that a car would take her downtown, or wherever she could get gas, and maybe some food or better yet, a place to stay the night. She walked, some quarter of a mile when she spotted a cream-colored typical country house, perfect with a deep porch and some steps and a chocolate-brown front door.
Santana started to walk up the steps as she stared at the porch floor. Hardwood – and the expensive type of hardwood. She smiled at herself. Whoever who owned this must be resilient. That kind of hardwood floor won't shine itself. It must have taken a lot of scrubbing and waxing to make it shine like a fucking dollar.
She continued to walk and she knocked on the door. "Hello?"
"Who's that?" a voice came from somewhere inside the house.
"I'm...I uhh, need your help," Santana squirmed. "My car broke down and I want to ask if...where's the way to the town square, or any gasoline station."
"Wait a sec," the voice yelled back again and there was a thud and the door slightly opened. "Are you alone?" the voice asked.
"Yeah," Santana answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and the person on the other side of the door wasn't able to see it.
"Okay," the voice said, and the door opened a little more wider, revealing a young blonde, a little bit taller than Santana and she was holding a .38 caliber gun. "What do you want?"
"Geez, lady, I just want directions," Santana held up her hands defensively. "I'm no killer or some mugger or what."
"You don't look like one," the girl snapped at her.
"Because I am not one," Santana admonished. "Why so tight with your gun, huh?"
"This place doesn't spell security, especially for housewives like me," the girl said, and then stared at Santana from her boots to her hair. "Hispanic, huh. So what are you? A jumper over the borders?"
"No. I am not. My name is Santana and I am an American citizen and a photographer. I got lost in the Interstate and my truck broke in the middle of the road, some quarter of a mile here. I need someone to tow it for me. Now, can I ask where the direction of the town square is? Or any payphone?"
The girl lowered her gun for a moment and looked at Santana, then she tilted her shoulders in a way that she was shrugging it casually. "Come in."
"Okay," Santana said as she followed the girl inside the house. "So you're a housewife, huh?"
"How did you know?" the girl looked at her and aimed the gun point-blank at the Hispanic woman's forehead.
"For god's sake lady, chill!" Santana growled. "You said this place doesn't spell security for housewives like you, so I kinda figured it out."
"Oh, sorry...did I say that?"
"Yeah, you did, and no, it's fine," Santana shrugged as she looked at a portrait of the girl, along with a young blonde man and a blonde girl between them. "He your husband?" Santana asked as they rounded for the living room.
"Yes, his name is Sam and that's our daughter, Ashley."
"Oh. How old was she?"
"Five. I gave her out when I was nineteen," the girl answered. "I'm Brittany Pierce-Evans, by the way."
"Santana Lopez. Where's your husband and your kid? Farm?" Santana quirked a brow jokingly.
"No. They're in Philadelphia for a horse show and competition on Thursday afternoon, where our horse took part. Ashley was pretty crazy about the competition," Brittany smiled proudly.
"But why did they leave on a Monday? I mean, Philadelphia isn't far away and you can drive to Philadelphia for like, a couple of hours," Santana said, her eyebrows furrowed in keen interest.
"They're staying at my in-laws for a couple of days in Pittsburgh, that's why. The competition will be held in Wyomissing, so they found it real convenient. What about you? What brought you here?"
"I'm traveling through the Interstate. You know, taking pictures, doing a lot of stuff. That's what I do for a living. I'm planning to reach San Francisco by the end of next month," Santana shrugged.
"Oh, then you must be a child of the open road," Brittany smiled and stood up. "Not many of them comes around this route anymore."
"If I am, then you are an old soul," Santana remarked.
"I am, quiet so. Would you like a glass of lemonade?"
"I would love to," Santana's voice shrilled a couple of notes higher. Just the thought of the cold drink relieved her burning throat, even if slightly.
"Hold on a sec, okay?" Brittany stood up and walked to the kitchen, her floral sundress was dancing behind her.
She seemed to dance along the cupboards, her rhythm following an imaginary and unheard tune. She hummed a little, and Santana smiled at the view. Santana knew she gets attracted to girls, but she also knew what Brittany's limitations were. But the thought did not keep Santana's eyes from peering at the goddess in the kitchen.
"So, where is your car? I mean, I've got Sam's old truck in the barn so we can tow it," Brittany smiled as she handed the drink to Santana.
"It's somewhere south of your house, almost a quarter of a mile off," Santana filled in the question's answer. "I just followed the road that lead to your house. As I can remember, I didn't make any turns. I just ran out of gas, so if you've got a spare liter, maybe I could buy it or something, you know."
"Jackson Pass," Brittany said thoughtfully. "If I am not mistaken, of course. And yes, I have a couple of pints of spare gasoline in our barn. I just hope Sam hadn't used it for the tractor."
"I do hope so," Santana pointed out. "How about we hit that barn now?"
"Getting out of here a little too fast?" Brittany joked, although deep inside her she doesn't want this woman to leave her house just yet.
"I only asked for directions and a lemonade," Santana smiled.
"And spare gasoline, among other things," Brittany chirped as she led them both to the kitchen back door and out into the yard. They rounded a bend and they caught sight of the barn. Brittany took a couple of moments as she heaved to open the heavy-bolted barn door. And inside, Santana peeked into a beat-up pick-up truck that she doesn't even know what year it came out in the market. Brittany loaded the spare gasoline behind the truck.
"You're funny, you know that, don't you?" Santana grinned at Brittany as the blonde started the car. "I mean, maybe that's why you got a husband."
"You're kidding," Brittany quipped and they pulled out into the gravel road. "Aren't you?"
"Of course, I am not kidding," Santana smiled. "So, who's staying with you for the night?"
"Bailey," Brittany smiled.
"Bailey?" Santana raised a brow as she demands an explanation on who Bailey was.
"She's my dog," Brittany shrugged. "You should keep a dog, too. You know, you'll need it when you're lonely in the road."
"Maybe," Santana smiled animatedly. She didn't know why, but she feels so easy and comfortable around Brittany's presence. Not that she would tell Brittany that.
"Maybe you should name him Roadster or maybe Casey if it's a girl," Brittany grins. She didn't also know why, but she likes being around with Santana. Not that she would tell the Latina that.
"Maybe, I'll name her Brittany, perhaps," Santana smiled as she cracked the joke. "But, no way I'm raising a female dog."
"Well, whatever you'd like, Santana," Brittany smiled again, and then they both spotted the beat-up Chevy across the road.
"There's my Snix," Santana burst out. "I'm surprised it's still in one piece, given that it was already almost an hour since I left it."
"Interstate 75 is a safe road, Santana," Brittany's voice remarked. "I didn't know you had a knack to name your beat-up Chevy with that name."
After putting the spare gasoline into Santana's engine, she went on starting the car. As she turned the ignition, the dead engine started to splutter and cough out dark smoke.
"Looks like it's not in the mood to start!" Brittany yelled from the road.
"I can make it start!" Santana argued as she turned the key one more time, and one more time, she failed in making the truck start.
"I told you," Brittany smiled as she stood by the truck's door. She stared at Santana, who was busily flustering at the controls of the truck.
"I'll just have to make him start," Santana growled exasperatedly.
"I'll tow it for you," Brittany grinned as she looked at Santana.
"No. Don't bother," Santana ripped the hood of the truck open, and then turned to look at the wiring system. Clutching a black wire, Santana coiled it around a red wire. "It's gonna start now," she concluded.
"I can start it for you," Brittany offered as she went inside the car and turned on the ignition keys. The engine coughed and spitted, and then it started its usual growl.
"I told you, I will make it start. I can make it start!" Santana declared.
"Tell me, who turned on the key?" Brittany quirked a brow as she flashed Santana another mega-watt smile.
"Whatever," Santana admonished. "Okay, one more thing, where can I stay the night? Some hostel or a cheap motel or inn?"
"You'll be at the Townsend Inn. It's a mile's drive from here, it's just down the road, you know," Brittany smiled as she climbed into the car. "Come on now, racer," she winked at Santana.
"Race ya," Santana smiled and she climbed into the Chevy and drove just behind Brittany's truck. She quickly stopped for a while at Brittany's and after so much refusal from Brittany, Santana was clutching her payment for the gasoline that she used and she was making her way to Townsend Inn.
The inn was good enough for her tastes. She had a clean shower and the people around her aren't creeps, or at least they did not look like one. She quickly showered, then she went down for dinner. However, an idea hit Santana as she was making her way towards the Italian restaurant just adjacent to the inn.
"Hey," she breathed out at the waitress once she got in. "Can I have two Italian beef steaks?"
"Yeah, what else?" the pudgy waitress looked at her with barely disguised contempt. "Hurry up."
"And an apple pie," Santana smiled smugly. The waitress disappeared into the back door and there was yelling, and twenty-five minutes later, Santana was leaving the restaurant, clutching two paper bags filled with food and a six-pack of Heineken on her other hand. She then got inside her car and drove towards Brittany's house.
"Hey," she smiled as Brittany answered her in the first knock. "Not pointing a gun at me now, are we?"
"Come in," Brittany smiled. "And yes, I saw you drive down the road. Do you need anything?"
"Yeah," Santana scrunched her forehead a little and rubbed her palms together. "I was hoping we'd you know, sit down together and have dinner. I wouldn't want you sharing your dinner with a dog, you know."
"Thank you for your hospitality, Santana," Brittany smiled shyly as she batted her eyelashes. "You can put all those food on the table. And feel free to move around."
Bailey, a brownish gold terrier cocked its head and growled as Santana walked into the kitchen.
"Whoa there, buddy. I ain't gonna hurt ya," Santana growled softly.
"Come on, Bailey," Brittany chuckled as she beckoned the dog to come near her. "Just put it over the counter, please."
Santana prepared all the food using some plastic boxes and she set them on the table. She quietly waited for the blonde to come in the kitchen to share the dinner with her.
"It's a hot night," Brittany breathed out as she came in the kitchen, pulling back her hair into a ponytail.
"Sure it is," Santana commented. "I just wish Ohio doesn't have hot summer nights."
"Me too," Brittany agreed. "You mind if I open some windows?"
"No, not really. I think maybe you really should, my shirt is sticking on my back," Santana complained. "I think I'm going to die out of the heat."
"It's already eight and the temperature isn't going down," Brittany smiled. "If it was, I'm not noticing it."
Santana gave out a snort as she handed down the steak to Brittany. The blonde in turn, smiled and mouthed a shy 'thank you' to the Latina softly.
"I got it in the local restaurant just near the inn," Santana explained. "I just thought you should know, you know."
"I know, Santana. Thanks, a lot. I really appreciate it," Brittany smiles at Santana as she poured the beer into the glasses.
"Yeah, so, bon appetit," Santana smiled and started to eat as soon as Brittany took her first bite of the food, too.
Dinner between them went on, and it only consisted of soft gurgles and mere comments about the food. Santana let Brittany talk much about farms and raising animals, because she wanted to show how interested she was in Brittany. However, over dessert, an idea struck her, so that she can keep Brittany close to her and know her more in the next couple of days.
"Brittany," she crossed her arms slowly. "How would you like to come with me tomorrow? You know, take me to a few places, do the whole tourist guide thing, you know what I mean?"
Brittany seemed to take in the proposal for a minute and just looked at Santana for a whole three minutes. Finally, she grinned.
"Fine with me," she stated. "I would like to go with you."
"That's great," Santana grinned. "Thank you."
"You're welcome, Santana. Just knock tomorrow morning," Brittany batted her eyelids. "I've got some chocolate truffles in the fridge, you want some?"
"Well, let me have some, if that doesn't bother you," Santana smirked as she looked over Brittany's shoulder, straight into the fridge.
A couple of truffles after, Brittany walked Santana to the front door, shyly batting her eyes once in a while and both of them stealing glances at each other secretly. They did not say anything, but they occasionally brushed shoulders as they both walked through the hallway.
"So, tomorrow then," Santana smiled as she descended from the porch steps.
"Yeah, tomorrow," Brittany grinned animatedly as she looked at Santana. "Be early."
"I will. Goodbye for now, Brittany Pierce-Evans," Santana smiled. However, she was taken aback as Brittany leaned in to kiss her left cheek. Santana shivered under the contact of Brittany's lips on her skin, and even if after the skin had left her cheek, heat seemed to radiate from the point of contact.
"Good night, Santana Lopez," Brittany said, starry-eyed and somewhat elated as she watched Santana get in the Chevy truck.
"Good night, Brittany," Santana smiled as she turned the engine on. Clutching the left side of her cheek, Santana drove back to her inn, leaving the blonde girl who had the stars in her eyes.
A/N: Yes, compared to the previous part this chapter is pretty short. I intentionally made that, and to clear things out, Quinn won't cheat on Rachel. But that doesn't spell out that she's notice Rachel anytime soon. The following updates would still focus on the Brittana storyline. And yes, I will add dates to make the stories more distinguished.
And yes, Brittany here is married to Sam Evans. There goes your Brittana endgame. No I was just kidding, but yes, Brittany is married. And yes, she's cheating, though technically she didn't cheat on Sam with a dinner with Santana.
Please leave your review and tell me what you think. Thank you again for choosing to read this fan fiction. xx