3
The next day at work, she couldn't concentrate on her meetings. She kept taking her phone out and staring at it, wishing it to call Rachel for her. When her 11:30 meeting got canceled, she took a deep breath and decided to text Rachel. She knew that her voice would falter if she called, and she'd hate that. After 10 minutes of typing and erasing, she finally hit send.
S: Hey! It's Santana. It was great to see you yesterday, I hope you had a great time with your dads. : ) Let me know when you're free and maybe we can go grab a coffee or something!
"Done... Now what if she never replies?" The thought had barely formed in her mind, when her phone beeped. She nearly dropped it from excitement. It was a short text:
R: I'm free now, got time for lunch? Even if it's vegan? : )
Vegan Food had never sounded so delicious before.
S: Sounds great! I'm done in half an hour, where do we meet?
R: Come to the theater if you can, there is a great restaurant three blocks down.
S: Awesome, I'll call you when I get there!
Shit. Now what? She had done it. She had made plans with Rachel, like countless times before but this time it felt different. This time she had a … damn, she had a purpose. Seeing her back home was effortless, and let's face it, kind of easy considering Lima was so small and only had a few places you could go to.
She checked the time, calculated how long it would take her to go to the theater and paced nervously up and down her office. It would take her 10 minutes to walk to the theater, so she had 20 long ass minutes to fret. She went to her small private bathroom and checked her reflection. Had she changed in the last three years? Because that had been the last time they had seen each other in Lima for Thanksgiving at Puck and Quinn's. She supposed it had… her hair was longer than she'd had it in the past, almost covering her breasts if she styled it just so (some nights alone she liked to recreate Alanis Morissette's "Thank U" video in front of the mirror just for fun). It was as dark and wavy as ever and even though she preferred to keep it in a typical Cheerios ponytail while in court, she loved letting her wild tangles down and combing her fingers through them. She was thinner, too. No, not thinner, more toned. She had discovered Krav Maga when she moved to New York and now she was hooked. She trained for two hours three days a week and on the weekends she discovered that she liked to run around Central Park at sundown. It was funny, in high school she had always hated doing laps in Cheerios practice, but running in New York felt different. She didn't do it because she had to but because she enjoyed it. Face it Lopez, you only started so you could talk about it to Rachel, you know she runs too. Ok, fine, that was true, but she liked it nonetheless.
She brushed her teeth for a little longer than usual and touched up her make up. She checked her watch nervously: 20 minutes to go. Shit. Now what?
She thought about changing out of her suit into something more casual, but decided against it. A part of her wanted to see Rachel's reaction to her grey power suit. Her pencil skirt verged on slutty, just below the knee, but when she crossed her legs it hiked up her thigh and she enjoyed seeing her colleagues' reaction when she did it. She had a sleeveless lavender blouse on with just the hint of cleavage in sight.
Summers in New York were hot, but in LA they had been worse, so she didn't mind it that much. 17 minutes to go. Oh, fuck it. I'll be early. Waiting around had never really been her strong suit, but it was better to wait for Rachel in front of the theater than pacing around her office second-guessing her clothes, hair, make up, etc.
She grabbed her phone, cigarettes and wallet and set out (she didn't like to carry around a purse, it was too much hassle). She checked her reflection in the elevator on the way down from the 31st floor and put on her sunglasses. Ok Lopez, let's go. She said it out loud and walked out of the elevator with her chin up and her classic strut, looking more confident than she felt.
New York was as loud as ever. She took a deep breath and sensed the excitement mixed in with a hint of garbage in the air. She knew the way to the theater by heart because she walked that way every day on her way home even though it took her a good 20 minutes out of her route. She knew it was ridiculous, but she couldn't help herself. Just knowing that she was inside was enough of a thrill for her. Until last night, she hadn't had the courage to actually see the play because she wasn't sure her heart could take it.
When she had finally admitted to herself that she had feelings for Rachel, she had felt lost. How did it happen? According to Brittany, she'd had feelings for Rachel since high school. Santana had denied it adamantly, but in the end she grudgingly admitted that Brittany knew her better than she knew herself, so if she said it, it must've been true. And after a lot of self-searching, she knew it was true. When she started looking back, it all came into place. She had been horrible to Rachel because she had wanted Rachel to notice her, to think about her. Even taking Finn's V card had been all about Rachel. In a strange way, she had wanted to show Finn how to pleasure Rachel, so she knew she'd had something to do with it. Yeah, her teenage mind had worked in very twisted ways.
So for the 3 years she had focused on one thing only: proximity. She had worked incredibly hard to be transferred to New York and get her shit together so she had something to show for herself when she finally saw Rachel again. It wouldn't be like that last Thanksgiving when she had been just another intern at a law firm. Now she was an associate at Martin and Martin LLP, one of the most prestigious – and female-driven – law firms in California and now in New York. She had graduated with good grades and she was going places, she could feel it. Her career was all sorted out, so she needed to sort out this Rachel thing. She had to, or she would go insane.
She was so fucking early, it was pathetic. Had she run here? She had deliberately tried to walk slowly, but now here she was, 12 minutes early, standing outside her theater. She lit up a cigarette and leaned against the wall. She couldn't help smiling with pride looking at the marquee that read Rachel Berry in Funny Girl 'the great Fanny Brice reincarnated – Barbra Streisand' She had made it, just like she always dreamed. She still remembered the teary call she'd gotten at 11 pm early November of last year. The last time they had spoken. Santana had been sound asleep and answered thinking it was an emergency
"hullo?" said a groggy Santana into the phone while still resting on her pillow.
"OhGodSantana, she actually came and she liked it!" Santana chuckled, cleared her throat and replied to a giddy Rachel
"Ok, first, wanky…" Rachel had laughed, that exasperated laugh she had when Santana made a dirty comment and then through tears and laughs and squeals she had told her about her idol coming backstage after the show and congratulating her ("She brought me roses, white of course, they were from her own garden") and how they had talked and talked and Barbra said she was proud of her.
"And it was just… I don't. I have no words, it was magical! I had to call everyone in Glee of course, and just share this with you guys, I'm sorry if it's weird." Santana was still half asleep but couldn't help but smile and without thinking she said
"Congratulations, bonita, I'm so happy for you!" That woke her up immediately. Bonita? What. The. Fuck. Lopez.
"Did… did you just call me beautiful?" shit.
"Um… yeah, no, it's just… an expression." God, Lopez you're such an idiot!
But Rachel had just chuckled and said, "Well, thank you San, it means a lot that you're happy for me!" There. Rachel had just saved her from a potentially deadly embarrassing conversation trying to explain that choice of words.
"Santana?"
She froze, feeling embarrassed at being caught reminiscing. She turned around slowly and saw Rachel standing by the door, one foot behind the other and her hands clutching a little pink purse. She had a plain blue dress on and a headband. Fuck. She looks adorable. Santana darted her eyes hoping Rachel hadn't actually heard her brain say that. She shook her head a little and smiled.
"Yeah, hi! I guess I got here a little early." She stubbed her cigarette and tried to steady her breath.
"Nope, you're right on time!" Rachel's smile lit up as she stepped up to Santana and gave her a hug. Then she linked her arm to Santana's and started walking. Santana was happy to follow and listen to Rachel go on and on about her day, giving her time to gather her thoughts.
"Ugh, it feels like I'm here all day putting out fires. Like today, my wig got wet so naturally it was a disaster and I had to call Stanley and tell him to get a new one and remind him that I told him this would happen eventually and I needed extra wigs just in case and if it didn't get here I was going to have to be forced to cut my hair and then I would be even more recognized when I left the theater and I don't things those bangs agree with my every day ensemble, I mean they're perfect on Fanny but me, I need a little bit more air, you know? So naturally he said he would take care of it, and I told him he better because I wasn't about to – what?" she stopped mid-sentence looking a little annoyed because Santana was staring at her and grinning. Rachel stopped walking and very seriously turned to Santana:
"Is my crisis funny to you? Because I assure you it most certainly is not."
Santana put up a hand in surrender, shrugged and said, "Sorry, I just … I missed the whole Rachel drama. I haven't heard you talk so much without taking a breath in a long time." She smiled to take the edge off her comment.
"That's because I haven't seen you in 3 years" Rachel mumbled just loud enough for Santana to hear. It made her heart skip a beat.
"You counted?" she whispered.
"Well,", Rachel started to walk again, "it's not that hard to keep track of it, since the last time was Thanksgiving which is a holiday so it's really easy to remember such a date even though it's not really a set date like the 4th of July since it changes every year but if you look at the calendar from last year and count, -" Rachel continued to explain how she knew it had been 3 years, but Santana stopped listening and just turned to look at the little doll beside her, gesticulating wildly but still clutching Santana's arm. God, she was beautiful. And she was nervous, too. Maybe this wasn't so crazy after all?