Can't Fight This Feeling
Authors Note: HUGE apologies for the late update. I had no internet for a while, so I had no way of updating; but I managed to write two chapters in the time, yay! So the next chapter will be up sooner than you think. And thanks again to the people that added this to their alerts and to the people who reviewed. Reviews are motivating, and I like to know what I'm doing right/wrong. Anndd because I took forever to update, this chapter is long.
Chapter Three: Indecisive
Hot, burning leather. Sweaty clammy bodies. Should I really be thinking about the temperature of the trucks interior, and how awkward, and slightly off putting it is to have Puck's hot, sweaty, heavy body pressed against me in the back seat of his truck? Is that so wrong? Shouldn't my mind be consumed about the way his lips enrapt mine in a rugged, yet arousing manner. How his body tightens against mine in all the right places, causing whimpers to emit from my lips, into his mouth. The way he teasingly rolls his hips against mine as he hovers above me, making me want more? I can't, because; his lips do not arouse me the way they used to, his body feels alien to me, I don't want more, in fact, I'd be happy if he just climbed up, off me, so I could sit up from under his awkward body.
"Santana, you okay?"
Santana's deep chocolaty orbs flickered open and up, staring back into confused, wary hazel orbs. She hadn't seemed to have even noticed Puck pull away from her, which only seemed to confuse her more.
"Mhm?" She questioned, having not heard him the first time.
Puck pulled himself away from Santana and into a sitting position, waiting for Santana to do the same before he repeated himself.
"What's wrong with you?" He didn't sound angry, he sounded confused, and slightly hurt. Which didn't falter to catch Santana off-guard; Puck wasn't known to be caring or affectionate; he wasn't known to show any caring emotion at all.
"What do you mean?" She tried her best to act and look confused, even though she knew exactly what Puck meant.
Puck raised one of his eyebrows questioningly. "What do you mean, what do I mean? You know exactly what I mean"
Santana just shook her head, hoping to play innocent. It seemed to fool Puck.
He sighed softly before starting his explanation. "You just seem so... lost lately. Like your mind is always somewhere else, while your with me. Is it me? Do you want to break up?"
Santana's eyes widened and she began speaking before her mind even registered what she was thinking. "No, it's not you, and I don't want to break up"
This would be so much easier if I knew why I felt like this.
She had to think of an excuse, at least until she had figured everything out for herself, and it needed to be a believable lie. Her eyes glistened slightly as she thought of the perfect excuse.
"It's just... everything with my mom..." She didn't elaborate anymore on her reason, letting her sentence hang in the air, hoping it would give some sort of dramatic effect.
Santana watched as Puck nodded his head in thought; he stayed silent for a while, and for a moment.
Oh God, what if he doesn't believe me? He's not talking. He isn't falling for my lie... It's not technically lying is it? I just don't have a real reason, not yet...
"I'm sorry..." Puck's voice pulled her from her confusing thoughts.
Am I hearing straight?
Her brow creased in confusion. "Sorry for what?"
"I'm sorry for questioning you about it, I should have already known that it would be hard for you, you know, living with your mom now." He then leaned over and placed a soft chaste kiss against her plump pink lips. "Whenever you need to talk, just know that you can talk to me. I want to be one of those boyfriends who helps out, with emotional stuff as well."
Santana could feel a lump forming at the back of her throat, her mouth suddenly becoming dry, her tongue now resembling a carpet of sand. Was this guilt? For any other girl, Puck would be being the perfect boyfriend right now, but Santana still couldn't figure out why she was feeling like this. She couldn't quite gather the words to speak, so instead she just smiled thankfully and nodded slightly.
"I guess I should probably drop you off for your dance class then..." Santana watched as Puck climbed back into the front seat, before she did the same.
The ride to the Performing Arts Studio was quite short, but it gave her enough time to think about things, trying to analyze her current situation, whatever that was exactly.
I shouldn't be being distant with Puck, I've practically known him all my life, and he's such a great boyfriend. He's caring, loving, sexy, protective... Maybe it's me; maybe I'm being a crap girlfriend. Maybe if I tried harder with him, then the confusion and the awkwardness will go away...
The Latina was snapped out of her thoughts as she felt the truck come to an abrupt halt, jolting her in her seat slightly, feeling the seatbelt tighten against her chest. The truck was old, and rusted, and the brakes should probably be replaced sooner or later. Her eyes flickered up to the building; the glistening sun rays beaming off the 'Lima Studio Of Performing Art's' sign, directing it's rays in counter directions. Santana blinked rapidly before penetrating her gaze elsewhere, not wanting to be blinded by the viscous glare of light.
Puck turned slightly in his seat to face Santana. "So I guess I'll see you later then? That is, if you're still coming to the party?"
One of the great advantages of summer break – you can party whenever you want, as there is no school the next day. Not that that ever seemed to stop most of the McKinely student body from partying it out during the week anyway.
"It's a party, why would you even need to ask?" She asked, her signature smirk creeping its way onto her face naturally. She then leaned over, her lips connecting instantly with Puck's. She took his bottom lip in-between hers, sucking slightly before tugging it between her teeth, before pulling away slowly. She smirked once again more opening the door and hopping out of the black, beat up truck.
The dance studio was loud and full of life today, but before Santana even had time to register anything else, she saw a whisk of blonde pop up in front of her, and she couldn't help the corners of her lips from tugging up into a smile.
"You're on time today, and you're wearing the right clothes!" Brittany beamed, only making Santana's smile widen.
Santana parted her plump lips to speak, but before she could even register her own words the bouncing blonde in front of her had begun speaking once more. "Can I see your phone?"
Before Santana could even make up her mind on whether or not to give Brittany her phone or not, she found herself handing it over to her subconsciously. She coughed awkwardly, before asking a question to hopefully cover up her willingness, but Brittany ways seemed to be far away in her own imagination to really decipher what seemed to be happening around her.
"What do you need it for?"
Brittany finished tapping the buttons before handing it back to Santana. "I just gave you my number" She stated as if it were the most obvious and normal thing in the world to do.
Isn't she going to back it up with a reason, some sort of an excuse? Do I even want her to? To be honest I'm actually anxious about why she gave me her number, and I'm not sure why. Excited, nervous maybe? Fuck. Why does this always happen around her?
The Latina wasn't given any time to question Brittany about it, as they both jolted slightly as they heard Markus' voice bellow through the studio and rebound from eardrum to eardrum.
"Starting positions!"
Starting positions? Starting positions for what?
"Miss Lopez, why are you just standing by the door? Starting positions!" He repeated, as if it would make more sense to the confused Latina than it did the first time.
Santana scrunched her face slightly in confusion, before memories of yesterday seemed to recollect in her mind. "If you're talking about what you did yesterday, then I have no idea what to do. You kicked me out" She stated flatly, seeming more digressed about being kicked out of the class today, than she had done yesterday when the event actually took place.
Markus raised one of his perfectly manicured brows whilst tapping a foot on the shiny black plastic padded floor impatiently. "Well, Santana, you'll just have to sit back and watch for the first half of the lesson. Pay attention..." He rolled his eyes, causing Santana to hold back a scoff. "Because you will be participating during the second half of the class"
Santana turned on her heels, rolling her eyes in the process before walking to the back of the studio, slumping down against the wall as the rest of the class began warming up for their routine.
I guess I should probably actually pay attention to the stupid routine, which means I should probably watch the best dancer... Which would bring me to Markus; but I don't think I'll be able to keep my eyes trained on his over-zealous physique and movements for a long period of time, it aggravates me just talking to him. This leaves Brittany. I could pay attention while watching Brittany, right?
The Latina's legs were sprawled out lazily on the padded black floor, her back resting casually against the white wall behind her. Her eyes were trained determinedly upon the bouncing blonde who had just begun the dance routine. There was a slight crease in Santana's brow as she focused on Brittany's fluid-like movements, attempting to focus on her dancing, and only her dancing, but it was unmistakably obvious that it was an inevitable task.
Rays of sunlight were penetrating the glass wall on the far left, the vigorous beams of scorching light bounced from the mirrored wall at the front of the dance studio, radiating the creamy white skin of the elegantly dancing blonde. The orange tinted light illuminated Brittany's milky skin in a bronze haze, enhancing every curve, every shadow and every mark on her perfectly toned body. Long, toned legs casted shadows onto the now hazy, light-tinged, padded flooring, as she twisted and turned so perfectly through the routine.
It was then when the mesmerised Latina realised that Brittany was wearing incredibly short, tight shorts, instead of grey sweat pants. She felt helpless, and lost for control as her eyes shamelessly began tracing their way up creamy white, long, toned legs. As her chocolate, lust filled orbs reached Brittany's upper thighs; she felt her mouth and throat become increasingly dry, as if the Sahara Dessert had relocated into her mouth. Dry, sandy and rough. It was when her eyes became tracing the perfectly rounded shape of the blonde's ass, when she felt her breath hitch in her throat. Due to perspiration, it had caused the tight white tank top to cling to Brittany's toned abs, becoming slightly transparent. A sharp stinging feeling shot through the Latina's plump red lips, jolting her out of her lust filled gaze. Her teeth instantly released her lower lip from being enrapt within them so tightly, something that she hadn't even been aware she was doing.
Oh God, get a grip Lopez! You didn't even act this way in the back of Puck's truck... Puck. I shouldn't be thinking of other people like this, let alone Brittany, who's a girl, a girl I hardly know. Puck doesn't deserve this, he was so caring in his truck earlier, and it's not often he's like that, and he seemed sincere. He deserves better.
Santana's face slightly fell, and stiffened uncomfortably at her next thought.
I have to stop. I know I won't be able to if I just leave things the way they are, I'm going to have to push her away. Brittany, this bubbly blonde dancer who she had only seen twice, who she felt so comfortable around already. Brittany, who seemed so innocent with her animal metaphors, and carefree outlook on life. Brittany, who seemed so fragile, who didn't deserve what I was about to do...
The slight vibration against the padded floor beneath came to an abrupt stop, as Markus had stopped the heavy bass-like music.
"Take five! Don't drink too much water, you'll regret it after!" He called out before retreating from the studio, leaving the class unsupervised.
Santana could feel a dry lump start to form at the back of her throat, at what she was about to do. She didn't want to hurt Brittany, but it made more sense to her to hurt someone who she barely knew, than to hurt her boyfriend.
Okay, she's coming. Maybe if I just ignore her she'll get the message and leave?
"Hey!" Brittany beamed enthusiastically.
Hi...
Santana pursed her lips together, knowing from past experience, that she found it difficult to control the words the emitted her lips whenever she was around Brittany. She knew it would be even harder to stop any words from escaping.
Brittany's brow creased slightly in confusion as Santana hadn't responded to her greeting; she decided to shake it off. As she was about to sit down beside Santana, Santana abruptly stood up in one swift movement and began walking away slowly. Brittany furrowed her brow once again in confusion, her lips forming a small pout.
"Are you mad at me?" She didn't sound angry, or upset, just confused.
Who could ever be mad at you?
Santana could feel a sigh of regret start to convulse through her body, but she shook it off, changing it into a huff of fake annoyance.
"Being mad, and being annoyed are two completely different things Barbie. Why don't you look it up in a dictionary, or don't you have the brains in that air head of yours to even read?"
Brittany's mouth fell open slightly at the level of Santana's rudeness – it was completely unexpected, and she didn't seem to be able to register the words properly, as she couldn't find it in her to spit something back, or maybe she just didn't have it in her to be mean.
"Are you just gonna stand there with your mouth open? Or do I have to close it for you? In fact, is there anything you can do other than dance? Do your parents have to help with everything at home?"
Santana shifted uncomfortably on the spot, she could see the hurt expression slowly creep its way onto Brittany' innocent features, tearing her up.
"Santana, that's really mean..." Brittany finally said.
"Oh, so you finally figured out how to talk again. Congratulations; I thought that the peroxide in your hair had somehow seeped through your scalp and singed away another brain cell of yours. And it's the truth, the truth is mean. You can't go around thinking that the world is so perfect and innocent, because it's not Brittany. Life isn't some Disney movie. You know what happens in real life?"
Brittany shook her head slightly in response.
"In real life, Barbie, Nemo doesn't find his way back home. He stays lost... then he gets eaten by sharks. Life isn't a fairytale."
As soon as the last few words had escaped Santana's helpless lips, she swiftly turned on her heels and began walking to the other side of the studio – not wanting to see Brittany's facial expression after her sudden faux declaration of hatred.
In Santana's opinion, the rest of the dance class seemed to have painfully dragged out by each ticking second, the guilt seeming to weight down each and every movement she attempted to accomplish during the routine.
Needing to take her mind away from everything, she had decided to go and spend time with her best friend, Quinn Fabray.
As Santana pushed open the front door to the Fabray residence, she trudged up the long, spiral staircase, heading down the hallway at the top till she reached the room at the end. She twisted the door handle, and pushed open the door, a little forcefully than she had intended to – causing Quinn to jump slightly after hearing the door connect with the wall it was connected to.
Santana walked over to the arm chair which was situated in the corner of Quinn's bedroom, and slumped down onto it, she hadn't notice that Quinn had been eyeing her since she stormed into her room.
"What's wrong with you?" Quinn questioned forwardly, standing up from her desk chair and repositioning herself onto her bed, which was beside the arm chair Santana was sat on.
"Nothing" Santana answered flatly.
Quinn quirked a perfectly manicured eyebrow, obviously intrigued yet confused about Santana's current behaviour. "Santana, I know when you're lying; even when you think that you're covering it up. So how do you expect me to believe you, when you're not even trying?"
Deep chocolaty brown orbs flickered over to Quinn, before a small sigh emitted her body. "I can't talk about it"
"Why not?"
"Because I just can't, I can't talk to you about it"
Quinn furrowed her brow slightly; trying to think of a way around Santana's guarded walls, trying to weave her way through. "Can't talk to me about it, or won't?"
Santana parted her lips slightly, but nothing came out; her brow then furrowed slightly in her own confusion. In her current situation, can't and won't were simply the same thing; she can't in fear of what Quinn might think, and she won't in fear of what Quinn might think. She wasn't sure how to answer Quinn's question, so instead she just looked blankly at her, somehow searching for help without asking for any, knowing Quinn wouldn't be able to help her properly unless she explained what was wrong.
Quinn had begun chewing on her lower lip, still thinking of how she could help; she knew Santana, she had known her, for almost her entire life, so she knew that she wouldn't give in so easily. She would start by guessing.
"Is it about a guy?" She asked a flicker of hope in her question.
"Kinda..."
The Latina's answer just seemed to confuse Quinn more, but she just decided to play through with her theory.
"Do you like this guy?"
Santana took a moment to think.
"No... Yes... No... I mean, I don't know. I can't, it would be wrong, forbidden. No, I don't like this person" Santana involuntarily stuttered out her answer, giving no confidence in her final statement to back up her opinion.
Quinn nodded slightly, taking a moment to think of her next question. "I think you like this guy; otherwise you would have said 'no' for your first answer and not have stuttered the entire time. But why would it be wrong? Because of Puck?"
Santana shook her head, a second later realising that she should have nodded. "I mean yeah, kinda, but that's not the only reason..."
"What's the other reason?"
"I can't say"
The blonde let out a frustrated sigh, realising that she was getting nowhere with her small interrogation process. "I give up... Give me at least one small detail though?"
A smirk crept its way across Santana's perfect features; she knew Quinn couldn't resist gossip, or any minor detail. "Blonde"
Quinn happily nods, happy with the answer she had received. "I think that you should maybe explore your attraction... if that's what it is, with this mystery blonde boy. There might be something there, something there worth exploring, something worth more than what you have with Puck..." Her voice lowered as she got to the end of her sentence, not wanting to anger her fiery Latina friend with such suggestions.
Santana decides to just wave away the idea, not even wanting the idea to be swimming in the treacherous sea of her already overflowing thoughts. "So you're coming to Puck's party tonight , right?"
Quinn nodded.
"Is Sam taking you? Because I needs a ride, and I don't want to travel with you two together. It's bad enough being in the same room at the same time, but I can't be dealing with you both in a car, there's no way of escape. All you do is kiss and touch, it's so gross"
Quinn smirked slightly, mostly at the way Santana had just brushed off their previous topic of discussion, almost as if it hadn't happened. "No, Sam will not be taking me; I'm meeting him there, so yes, I can give you a ride. You're welcome, by the way..."
"Get ready then, you can take me to my mom's so I can shower and stuff, then we're going to the party"
Quinn sighed, knowing how long it took Santana to shower, let alone to shower and get ready before the party. "Can't you just shower here and wear my clothes?"
"Are you kidding? It felt like a heavenly escape when I finally went to my moms and could wear my own clothes again, I'm not about to wear a yellow frilly dress again Q"
"Yellow dresses aren't the only clothes I own..."
With still over three hours till the party actually started, Quinn had suspected them to arrive somewhat early, but after waiting hours upon hours for Santana to shower and get ready, to her surprise they had actually arrived late. Which didn't seem to bother Santana, as she never arrived on time to anywhere.
Once they entered Puck's house, both girls headed straight for the kitchen, walking towards the island which held various bottles of spirits and cans of beer.
"Are you drinking tonight?" Santana asked Quinn.
"Uhm no? How else do you expect me to drive you and myself home?"
Santana scoffed. "We could walk?"
Quinn's face fell blank, before she rose a perfectly manicured brow. "I've had past experience in carrying you home while you're drunk, I'm not doing that again..."
"Fine, but next time, you're drinking" The can fizzed as Santana popped the tab, opening the can before taking a gulp.
Hazel eyes darted across the kitchen in search for something, or someone.
"I should probably go find Sam, let him know I'm here..."
Santana nodded. "I should go find Puck."
"Find me if you need me" Quinn called as she began weaving her way through the mass amount of people who had begun crowding the kitchen.
The Latina continued to lean against the kitchen island, contemplating on her thoughts as she sipped aimlessly away at her beer. A few moments passed, and the more she thought about it, the more she began to realise that she didn't want to go find Puck, she didn't want to go have drunken party sex with him.
Ugh, maybe it because I'm not in the mood to get it in. Puck will probably think something's wrong If I say no anyway...
"Hey girl" Came a bubbly voice from beside her, Santana turned her head slightly to find that Mercedes had joined her in the kitchen.
"Hey" Santana then realised that she was blocking the table. "You wanna drink?"
A devious smirk washed its way across Mercedes' features. "I was actually looking for someone to do shots with, you down?"
The Latina mirrored Mercedes' smirk before nodding. "I'm down"
Seven shot glasses, and fifteen minutes later, Santana could feel her mind was engulfed in a warm haze, her vision slightly blurred and her surroundings somewhat swaying around her. She looked across to Mercedes, who had a sheepish grin plastered across her plump lips.
Santana audibly groaned. The alcohol seemed to have the opposite effect of which she had hoped for. It seemed to enhance and tower her confusion, and just build upon her guilt. This would only lead to one thing - word vomit.
"I n-need to... I need to go find..." She realised Mercedes was already in her own little alcohol enhanced world to even realise that Santana was trying to dismiss herself, so instead she just nodded to herself before drunkenly attempting to weave her way through the kitchen and into the lounge room.
As she made her way passed the sofa, she felt her body collide with someone. She drunkenly stumbled back, not having the focus to steady her balance; luckily she was caught by strong protective arms. As she looked up, she noticed blonde hair.
"Lemon juice!"
Plump, large pink lips parted in a smirk to reveal pearly white teeth. "Lemon juice?"
Santana nodded. "Lemon Juice, because of your hair, and you lied about dying it. I-It's my new nickname for you, Lemon Juice"
Sam just laughed at Santana's antics. "Are you okay? You seem drunk"
She shook her head, before changing her actions and began nodding it.
Sam frowned slightly. "What? You're not okay, you are drunk?" He asked, just to clarify.
A nod.
This caused Sam to furrow his brow even deeper. "C'mon..." He kept an arm around Santana's shoulder, trying to keep her on balance so she wouldn't trip up or stumble over, and then began walking towards the stairs.
"Are you taking me upstairs? Because you have a girlfriend, who's also my best friend, so that's wrong, and I won't let it..."
She was cut off by Sam's low chuckling, he then sat down on one of the lower steps, gesturing Santana to do the same. Once she was sat safely beside him, away from the crowds of people, he began talking again. "I love Quinn, so no, I'm not taking you upstairs."
Santana blinked repeatedly, trying to somehow blink away the drunken haze of blurred vision, but sadly to no avail. "Can I ask you something?"
Sam nodded yes.
"No, no, tell you something... I don't know, it's all so confusing."
Sam couldn't help but slightly smirk at this; he had never seen Santana so un-guarded, so unsure of what she wanted to say before.
"We're friends right? So.. So if I tell you something, promise not to tell anyone?"
"If it's a secret, shouldn't you be talking to Quinn about this?" Sam asked, curiously.
She shook her head. "I can't, because she might feel uncomfortable afterwards..."
"Okay... Go ahead" He said supportively.
Santana nodded. "If I feel guilty after being mean to someone, does it mean I like them? Because I never feel guilty after being a bitch to someone, I'm a bitch to everyone. And I can't stop watching... blonde hair... blue eyes... long legs, and she's so hot, and pretty, and... and I felt so bad Sam, it's all just so confusing"
Sam thought for a moment, trying to understand Santana's alcohol infused babbling, trying to make sense of it all. "Who can't you stop watching?"
Here it came, word vomit. "Brittany"
"Who's Brittany?" Sam asked confused, having never heard of anyone named Brittany, that he knew of.
"This girl at my dance class. She's so sweet, and adorable, and innocent. And I crushed her perfect world, I cru... crushed it with my nasty words, and now I can't take it back.
"Santana, I know you can be harsh sometimes, but I doubt you could crush someone's world that easily..."
Santana shook her head. "But I did, and now she hates me, and now I'll never know, or find out."
A look of sheer and utter confusion was now plastered across Sam's face; he kept quiet for a moment, trying to figure everything out. After a beat, the gears started turning, and everything started to make some sort of sense, even if it was still confusing for him.
"So, Brittany is a girl who you met at dance, you like to watch her dance, and you think she's hot. You were mean to her, and now she hates you... But you never care if anyone hates you, so you care, you care about this girl... You like Brittany!" He voiced the end of his sentence a little louder than expected, as he finally figured out Santana's problem.
Her eyes shot open wide as she reached out to cup his mouth closed. She didn't want anyone to hear his sudden realisation, even if anyone here had no idea who Brittany was. "Shh!" After a moment, she took her hand away from his mouth.
"Sorry..." Sam had a thousand and one questions floating through his mind at this point, but he knew he should probably wait until Santana was completely sober until he asked her. He then began wondering if Santana had made a mistake by talking to him about this, wondering if she would be angry and in denial about everything tomorrow.
"You should talk to her... wait, why were you a bitch to her?" He asked, now completely confused once again.
Santana cocked her head to the side in thought for a moment. "Because if I'm mean, then she'll hate me and not want to talk to me, then maybe I can ignore her and pretend she's not there"
Sam frowned slightly. "It obviously didn't work because you obviously can't stop thinking about her Santana. It sounds like you're crushing on her..."
"I'm not crushing on her. She's a girl" Santana deadpanned.
Sam simply shrugged. "So? Kurt and Blaine are both boys, there's nothing wrong with it. I think you should talk to Brittany, and figure out everything for yourself."
"But what about Puck?"
Sam knew that Puck isn't the most respectful or faithful boyfriend, but he wasn't about to drop that bomb on her right now, as he could tell she was already internally battling with enough things right now. So he just shrugged once again. "He doesn't know, he won't have to, unless you tell him."
Santana nodded, smiling, before she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Sam. She smiled against his shoulder as she felt him do the same. As they pulled away from their friendly embrace, Santana turned to see Quinn stood at the foot of the stairs. At first Santana furrowed her brow, wondering why Quinn looked to be in disbelief, hinting anger and sadness also. Then Santana saw the gears turn mentally turn for Quinn.
She thought back to their conversation earlier in Quinn's room; Santana had confessed that she may or may not like someone, but it was likely that she did, but wouldn't allow herself to because it was wrong /forbidden. She had said this person was blonde.
SAM! She thinks I like Sam!
"No, Quinn, I don't..." But before Santana could finish, Quinn had stormed off through the sea of people dancing to the music, out of reach, out of sight.
