Chapter Three
By the time the final bell rang that day, Brett was fairly certain he had done a bang up job of making a good first impression.
Or a bad one?
What the hell does he care, he made it through the day without talking about ducks.
That alone is a feat he never thought he could achieve.
But like Martin Luther King Jr. always said, he had a dream and he reached it.
Then again, the very same man was shot brutally.
Moving on.
The blonde badass moved sluggishly out the front doors of McKinley High, teens rushing around him in attempt to get off campus as soon as possible. A genuine smile tugged at the corner of his lips when he saw Rachel waiting for him on the steps.
She wasn't alone, however, as two boys with fantastically styled hair and impeccable fashion taste stood on either side of the tiny brunette.
What? He couldn't appreciate the beauty of a man?
"Hey, firecracker." Brett greeted kindly, turning to raise his infamous eyebrow at the other two boys, obviously expecting an introduction of some sort.
Rachel smiled in return, gesturing to the shorter black-haired boy on her right. "Hi, Brett. This is my friend, Blaine Anderson." She then turned to the boy with softer features and baby blue eyes. "And this is Kurt Hummel."
Brett barely managed to keep himself from chuckling as he watched Kurt from behind his tinted sunglasses. The guy was obviously giving him the one over none too subtly. And from his reaction, he apparently liked what he saw.
"Pleasure to meet you. Brett, is it?" Kurt flirted with a wink, reaching out a hand which Brett took awkwardly.
Bodily contact was not really his thing.
And by the way Blaine's body tensed up and his eyes narrowed, it obviously was not his thing as well.
"Isn't my boyfriend just the greatest?" Blaine stated clearly, making sure to emphasize that Kurt was taken.
Brett stood dumbfounded, staring at Rachel with a lost puppy dog expression. Too many people, too many questions.
Too much glamor and fashion for one blonde to handle.
Luckily, the small diva picked up on the tension in her new friend's shoulders.
"Guys," Rachel scolded, grabbing them each by the ear, eliciting embarrassed groans from each teen. "First impressions are always of utmost importance. You two of all people should be aware of this by now."
"Yes, Rachel," The two grumbled in unison, looking somewhat guilty.
Shaking his head out of the brunette's grip, Blaine glared at her once more before turning his gaze back over to the still silent Brett. His eyes softened before he spoke once again.
"We heard what you did for Rach today, and we really appreciate it. Any friend of Rachel's is a friend of ours." Blaine finished with a warm smile, Kurt following suit from his position next to the diva.
"Yeah, um. No problem. She's a pretty cool girl, don't sweat it." Brett fumbled out, obviously not used to accepting, or even getting, compliments often.
It felt oddly nice for the blonde, to have made a few genuine friends so quickly. Even though he had made it a mission to keep to himself, this small group of students didn't seem so bad.
In fact, they seemed pretty great.
"Anyways," Rachel broke the silence happily, "We were going to head over to my house and watch Funny Girl-"
"No, you were going to watch Funny Girl while Blaine and I made sarcastic comments in the background."
"-and we were wondering if you'd like to join us." The brunette plowed on, undeterred by Kurt's playful eye roll.
It was true, after all.
Rachel would play Funny Girl each day as they got home from school while Blaine dozed off in the background, Kurt mimicking the character's voices in an octave five times higher than its original. Eventually, Rachel would rant about the respect Barbra so clearly deserved, and Kurt would choose to snicker quietly instead.
Jesus, they really needed a better social life.
"Well, I guess-" Brett started, but something in his mind told him to glance to his left. And damn, he was glad he listened.
Standing a few feet away from his motorcycle was Santana, talking with a blonde boy just an inch or two shorter than himself. His body was clad in a jock's jacket, and Brett narrowed his eyes dangerously, causing all three of his new found friends to step back slightly.
Blaine was the first to find his voice again, clearing his throat before speaking shakily. "Uh, y-you okay, there, buddy?"
"I'll be right back." Brett replied shortly, already stalking away toward the girl of his dreams and Douchey McDoucherpants.
Yeah, he was being immature.
But that was his future wife.
Granted, he didn't really know her and only had one conversation which wasn't all that pleasant.
Still.
Dibs, man. Dibs.
The head cheerleader spotted him over her friend's shoulders as he approached, scoffing in disbelief. "What the hell do you want, Ellen?"
The other fellow blonde turned around at Santana's outburst, confused hazel eyes meeting tinted plastic. Each boy raised an eyebrow at the exact same time.
To others, it might have been funny.
To them, it was a damn battle cry.
"Well?" Santana continued huffily, tapping her foot impatiently. The brunette would never admit it, but she found herself secretly enjoying the blonde's presence. Him and his stupid goofy smirk, and those damn sunglasses and perfect cheekbones. Stupid Brett Pierce.
"Who's this?" Brett asked sweetly as he spoke to Santana, then turning hostile and stiff as he faced the other boy.
"Look, I don't know who you think you are, but I don't even know you and-"
"The name's Quinn Fabray. Who wants to know?" The jock cut into Santana's rant, holding his ground as he stared intently at Brett.
Brett wondered if he should give his name or just grab Santana and run, but since he didn't want to get charged with kidnapping, he decided to go with option one. "It's Pierce, to you."
The badass angled his body toward Santana once again, his smirk full of mirth. "I leave you alone for a few hours and you've already replaced me, Angel Eyes? I'm hurt. Wounded, in fact." He clutched at his heart dramatically.
Even Quinn couldn't help but smile for a few moments at the goofiness, but remembered who he was talking to, and the smile was quickly wiped away.
Santana, however, remained smiling as Brett finished his impromptu performance, straightening up to continue.
"How about I take you out tonight? My treat." Brett asked, trying to keep all hints of hopefulness out of his deep voice.
"We actually have plans," Quinn answered coldly before the brunette could even open her mouth to respond. "Now beat it, loser. Don't you have trash to be picking up along some highway?"
Brett winced internally at the judgmental comment, but brushed it off.
New Brett didn't give a shit.
He couldn't get rid of the hurt that came with the rejection and idea of Santana being taken though, and couldn't help the next sentence that came out defensively. "Oh, sorry, bro. She's a cheerleader, I just assumed she was open for business."
As soon as the words left his mouth, Brett regretted them.
He watched as Santana's eyes filled momentarily with hurt and shock, then began to harden back to the guarded and angry look she seemed to give everyone else. The look Brett wanted to make sure he was never given.
Obviously, he failed.
"Let's go, Quinn," Santana stated abruptly, "I don't see why we're even associating with the new scum of the school."
Even though he deserved it, it still hurt to hear the words from his beautiful girl's lips.
Sure, he might have met her for the first time today but there was just something about her that entranced him. It was so confusing yet so satisfying at the same time.
"Santana, I'm sorry-"
"I said get lost." Quinn barked out, glaring at the badass. He put an arm around Santana's shoulders, eliciting a pang of jealousy and anger to ignite in Brett.
No other words were spoken as Santana and Quinn walked away purposefully, the shorter blonde whispering something into Santana's ear and Brett had to restrain himself from punching out the jock's lights.
Brett was glad he kept watching, though, as he caught Santana throwing a backwards glance over her shoulder, making eye contact once before quickly looking away.
It was enough for him.
He would win her over, he was sure of it.
He watched as Quinn helped her into a rich ass mustang, before glaring at him once more and stalking to the driver's side.
Brett shook his head emphatically and turned swiftly on his heels back toward his friends, who had been watching the exchange from afar with confused looks.
"Brett, are you okay?" Rachel asked concerned, the worry lines on Brett's forehead unsettling her. She cared about this boy, for some strange reason.
Maybe in a way she shouldn't.
"I'm fine," Brett shrugged weakly, trying to look as badass as possible when all he wanted to do was curl up with his teddy bear and fall asleep. "So, Funny Girl?"
Kurt, Blaine, and Rachel all smiled eagerly and nodded, glad to have added a new person to their daily ritual.
