We'd just arrived home from Miami, where my oldest brother and his wife and their son – who is probably the most disgustingly cute baby in the history of the world – are currently living. Michael was only five months old, so we flew down to stay with them at the end of June. It was kind of a family tradition during that time of year to vacation together. We usually did it closer to Lima, but Thomas's company relocated him to southern Florida two months after they found out Madelyn was pregnant. My parents decided to make the trip so that my abuela, brother, and I could all meet Michael. Most of the trip was spent at their new home. We took turns passing the baby back and forth and eating and celebrating the holiday, but at the end of the week, I was ready to go home. Not because I love Ohio more than Miami, and not because I don't love my family. I just missed my best friend. I hadn't spoken to her in two days because she'd lost her phone. I scrolled through my messages until I saw the one sent from her mother's cell.

Hey santana it's britt. Lost my phone. I'll let you know when I find it.

That was it. I tried texting back, but there was never a reply. Mami banned me from calling her house while we were gone. I decided that if she didn't text me back by the time we got home, I was going to visit her house to help her find it because I couldn't stand not being able to communicate with her. None of my other friends were nearly as fun to talk to.

Before we left the Columbus airport, I won the rock, paper, scissors showdown with Felix to determine who got the backseat of our family's Highlander. He was stuck in front of me next to our mother as Papi drove. My abuela was currently in the passenger's seat next to Papi, reminiscing about the time she held Thomas right after he was born over twenty-five years ago. I was sprawled out along the seat, an earbud for my iPod discretely hidden in the ear facing away from my mother to help me tune out the idle conversation. She believed that family conversation should be maximized during our trips, so I had to at least look like I was going to engage.

Sleep was threatening to overtake my body, but I refused to give in. I was afraid I would sleep through Brittany's text. Whenever I had to travel for more than an hour, I always fell asleep. It didn't matter if I was on a bus ride for one of our Cheerios competitions or stuck in traffic in my mother's Camry. If I was a passenger, there was a pretty good chance I would be asleep when we arrived at our destination. It was difficult for me to force my eyes to stay open as we drove the two hour trip back to Lima

Ever since Brittany had confided in me, I couldn't stay away from her. Not a day had passed (until my trip to Florida) that we did not hang out with each other, and if we weren't able to get together, there were constant texts back and forth between the two of us. It almost felt like we had grown closer over the last month, if that were even possible. I couldn't explain it, but I wanted to be next to her all the time. Whenever something happened, or I saw or heard something particularly funny, I had to share it with her immediately. At one point, I worried that I would begin to annoy her with my constant stream of texts and calls, but I convinced myself that she would let me know if I ever did.

I must have dozed off at some point because Felix shook me awake when we arrived at Abuela's house. We all piled out of the car and followed her through the door. Felix and Papi carried her luggage to her room as Mami stopped in the bathroom. I walked into the kitchen with Abuela and leaned against the counter, trying to wipe away the traces of sleep from my eyes.

"Santana, I don't want you getting any ideas."

I looked up at her, unsure if I'd missed the beginning of a conversation while trying to force myself awake. "Any ideas about what?"

She fixed me with a stern look that meant she was absolutely serious. "I saw the way you were with that baby. You have plenty of time to worry about family after you get your education."

I laughed. "Abuelita, babies are the last thing on my mind right now."

"Maybe so, but I don't want to hear about you chasing after boys. You'll have time for boyfriends once you have finished college. They are nothing but trouble."

Abuela had quit school when she was thirteen to help her family make enough money to survive. I knew how much she valued a proper education, so I didn't try to come up with a snappy comeback. If she really knew what I'd gotten up to with Puck, she would have killed me and buried me in the back yard before my parents had a chance to walk into the kitchen.

"Not all guys are so bad," Felix said, walking up behind me and resting his arm across my shoulders.

"Don't get me started on your behavior." Abuela pointed her finger accusingly at him.

"What did I do?" Felix asked. I could tell he was scared of what she had found out.

"Your father told me who stayed at your place last week."

My brother tensed beside me, and I felt his arm drop from my shoulders. I bit my lip to keep from laughing. I knew that he and his girlfriend took turns staying at the other's apartment. His friends from Northwestern had thrown him a huge party for his twenty-first birthday two nights before we left for our trip, and she must have stayed the night. All I know is that when he showed up at our house the day of our flight, he was still hungover.

"He wasn't supposed to say anything!"

I knew as well as Felix did that no one could ever keep something away from Abuela. More than likely she'd seen Felix looking like shit and gave Papi one look before he caved in to her demand for information.

She ignored his protest. "You stay away from those girls until you get your degree. Do you hear me?"

"Does that mean when I start my residency, you won't care if I hook up every now and then?"

I turned my head and stared at him. He should have known better than to give her a smart-ass answer. It appeared that he realized it too late when Abuela directed her glare at him.

"You'd better keep it in your pants until you have a respectable girl you're going to make your wife, Felix Alejandro Lopez! If I hear about you getting some poor girl pregnant, I will murder you in your sleep."

"I was just kidding, Abuelita. I'm a good boy. I haven't even kissed a girl." It was an obvious lie, but I kept my mouth shut. He knew enough about my extra-curricular activities to get me into some deep trouble with Abuela.

"Estás lleno de mierda," she said, turning and trying to hide her grin. Felix ran up to her and wrapped her in a bear hug.

"You know I'm your favorite grandchild, Abuelita. Don't deny it."

"Felix," Papi's voice boomed behind us, "let go of her before you crush her. She's not as young as she used to be."

Felix did as he was told and stepped away so that my parents could say goodbye to her. "I'm not too old to take the belt to you, Miguel."

"Ay, not the belt," Papi said, kissing his mother on the cheek.

"We'll see you on Sunday, Alma," my mother said.

I turned to leave with the others, but Abuela caught my wrist and held me back as my parents and brother left the house. She kissed my forehead before speaking. "I want the best for you, Santanita."

"I know."

"You are so smart. Don't let it go to waste."

"I won't. I promise, Abuelita."

Her eyes darted back and forth between mine as she held my cheeks in her hands. Her face was as serious as I'd ever seen it. "I love your brothers and your cousins," she said and then paused. "But God blessed me the day you were born when he answered my prayers for a granddaughter."

It was the most exposed my abuela had ever been with me, and I wasn't sure why she suddenly decided to open up. I just knew that in that moment, I vowed that I would do anything to make her proud of me. As quickly as it came, the moment was gone, and we kissed each other's cheek and said our goodbyes. After I climbed into the car, we were on our way home.

As soon as I walked in the door, I ran upstairs. I didn't want my parents making some weird request of me that would prevent me from calling Brittany right away. The phone was resting in its charger on my desk. My fingers were able to dial the number by memory while I walked across the room to close my door. It only took two long strides before I could leap onto my bed. My giddiness was eye-roll worthy, but I was too excited to care. I just knew that she would be so excited to hear about Michael.

"Hello?" It was Brittany's dad.

"Hi, Joe. Is Brittany home?"

"Hang on a sec." His muffled voice called for Britt. A few seconds later, I heard her voice.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Britt-Britt!"

"Oh. Hi.."

I could feel myself grinning like an idiot. "I guess you haven't found your phone, huh?"

"Um, no. Not yet."

"We just got back. Do you want to come over?"

"Um…" She hesitated as if she were searching for the right words. "I'm actually…I think I'm sick."

"Oh no. Is it, like, a cold or something?"

A cough came through the receiver. "Yeah, I'm not feeling too good."

My smile was replaced with a frown. Brittany rarely got sick. It sucked that it was happening during our summer. Especially after we hadn't been able to hang out in over a week. "Do you need me to bring you anything? I know you like those cherry lozenges."

"I think we have some here."

"Oh," I said, fighting hard to keep the disappointment from seeping into my voice. "Well, I guess you should get some rest, then."

"Okay."

"Call me when you feel better. We'll go out and do something. And I can tell you about how awesome Michael is."

"Okay."

There was nothing else I could think of to say to prolong the conversation. "Feel better, Britt-Britt."

"Thanks. Bye, Santana."

"Bye."

Reluctantly, I pressed the end call button. My body deflated. I wanted to hang out with her so badly. Not wanting to go downstairs, I dug through my dresser until I found something to sleep in. It wasn't particularly late, but I had nothing else to do. Since I wasn't meeting up with Brittany, exhaustion started to overtake me, and I crawled back into my bed. I'd set my iPod in its dock and closed my eyes when Amy Winehouse's Back to Black album drifted through the speakers.

Felix left to go back to Northwestern two days later. My parents insisted that I get back on the SAT prep schedule the day after we came back from Miami, and after a few days, I desperately needed an escape. Being trapped in the house was making me stir crazy. Quinn was visiting her aunt and uncle in Atlanta, and there were no other Cheerios I wanted to hang out with. I knew Brittany must have been really sick for me not to have heard from her since that first phone call.

When lunchtime rolled around, I wandered into the kitchen to find something to eat. The pantry was fully stocked, and the section of canned goods gave me the inspiration I needed to break free of my boredom.

It was a well known fact in my house that Brittany loves my mother's chicken noodle soup. It was also a well known fact that chicken noodle soup is the famous remedy for cold symptoms (according to several television shows I'd seen as a child). And what better way to help her feel better than to bring her some? I'd helped Mami prepare it enough to understand what to do, and I set to work. Fortunately, we had most of the ingredients (save for one or two vegetables) and within an hour, I had enough to not only fill two thermoses for us to share but also enough for my family to eat dinner later that night. After I gave the kitchen a quick wipe-down, I grabbed the soup and ran to the bus stop located at the end of the block, eager to take it to Brittany's house.

It was extremely difficult not to skip up to her front door and even more difficult to keep myself from holding down the doorbell. Normally, I would just walk into their home if the door was unlocked, but I felt a little strange doing it since Brittany was so sick. I was a ball of nervous energy, which was weird because I'd been to her house literally hundreds of times. I almost toppled over from embarrassment when Carolyn opened the door.

"Oh, hi Santana! I didn't realize you were back already. Brittany's up in her room." She stood to the side and allowed me through the door.

I thanked her and quickly made my way up the stairs. I tried to be quiet in case she was sleeping. When I reached the landing, I could see that her bedroom door was slightly cracked. The muted sound of music was drifting into the hallway, and I crept closer. To say I was surprised when I peeked through her door would be an understatement. Brittany was wearing a pair of black sweatpants that had been cut off at the knee and a tight fitting purple tank. Her eyes were closed, and she was on her back, her yoga mat spread beneath her. I watched as she kept her legs perfectly straight, lifting them into the air and stretching them over her head until her toes rested on the floor beside her ponytail. Her shoulders kept her back perpendicular to the floor, and her arms were positioned on the floor behind her.

It felt like my chest was collapsing in on itself. I didn't understand what was going on. This was not normal Brittany behavior when she fell ill. My weight shifted, causing the floor to creak underneath my feet. When her eyes snapped open to meet mine, a look of panic crossed her face. Her back rolled back down the mat, and she scrambled to her feet.

"Santana…"

"What's going on? Are you still sick?"

She shut off the music and turned to face me with a sheepish expression. "I guess so."

I stepped into her room and looked around. "Why didn't you call me?"

Her hands fidgeted nervously, and she sat down on the bed. "I was going to. You know, later today."

I saw her glance at her bedside table. Her cell was on it. "You found your phone? Britt, what's going on?" I asked.

The look of panic on her face had not disappeared. She was refusing to meet my eye. Suddenly, the idea that my best friend had lied to me twice and was trying to avoid me crossed my mind, and the immense weight on my chest increased tenfold. I didn't know what to say. I couldn't understand what I might have done to upset her so much that she felt the need to ignore my calls and pretend to be sick. A thick lump formed in my throat. I couldn't think. I waited for Brittany to explain, but the silence lingered for almost a minute. Without a word, I set the thermoses on her desk and began to leave.

"Santana, wait!"

I stopped walking, but I didn't turn to face her. I heard the springs from her mattress squeak as she stood up. The soft padding of her feet behind me gave away her position, and I felt her fingers close around my wrist.

"I have to tell you something," she said quietly.

I felt her tug on my hand, and I finally lifted my eyes to meet hers. She looked apologetic, making my resolve crumble instantly. She walked us over to her bed and sat down. There seemed to be no other option for me than to join her when she didn't let go of my hand. I watched as she played with my fingers, seeming to draw courage from our contact.

"I haven't been calling you because I'm afraid you're going to be mad at me."

My voice was quiet when I responded. "Why?"

"I went to Andrew's party on Saturday because they were going to have fireworks," she started, keeping her eyes on our hands. "There were a lot of people there, and…I probably had too much to drink."

She'd told me that she was going to that party before she stopped texting me, so that information wasn't news to me. "Okay…"

She drew in a deep breath and exhaled. It sounded shaky. Her eyes flicked up to mine. "I slept with Puck."

We stared at each other for a few seconds while my brain processed the new information. Whatever explanation I'd been expecting from her…that had not been it. I felt her squeeze my hand.

"You slept with Puck?"

Brittany bit her lip and nodded.

I pulled my hand from her grasp and stood. I couldn't describe what sort of state my emotions were in. I supposed that most girls would be pissed that their best friend had slept with their ex, but I didn't feel anger. I guess it was confusion. "Why?"

"We were both super drunk, and it started out with us kissing because I hadn't kissed him before, and I know it was wrong and I shouldn't have done it because he's your ex-boyfriend, but I wasn't thinking because there was so much alcohol, and I know that's not an excuse, but it's the truth, and then the next thing I remember is that we were both naked in someone's room and then –"

Anger finally began to rise within me. "Wait, stop. You said, 'the next thing I remember'. Did he force you into anything?"

Her eyes got wide. Immediately, she stood up and moved in front of me. "No," she insisted. "I was drunk, but I knew what I was doing, and I knew it was wrong the whole time, but I couldn't stop. I'm so sorry, Santana. Please don't hate me. It will never happen again, I swear."

I realized my fists were clenched and my breathing had gotten faster. I had to analyze my thoughts, but I wasn't upset with Brittany. I knew I should have been, but most of my displeasure was directed at Puck. The very idea that he could have taken advantage of her in her inebriated state was infuriating. Brittany was too trusting to get involved with a horn dog like Puck. "Are you okay?" I heard myself ask. "Have you gotten checked? Puck isn't consistent with – did you use a condom?"

"I think so."

I felt myself panic then. "Think? Brittany, we need to get you checked."

"I promise I'll go to a clinic. Just, please, don't be angry."

Worry was etched across her face. I was sure it mirrored my own, but for a completely different reason. Brittany was terrified that she'd lost our friendship. I was terrified that she'd contracted something or gotten pregnant.

"I could never be mad at you, Britt."

Her hands sought mine for reassurance. "Are you sure?"

Instead of answering, I pulled her in for a hug. Seconds later, her little sister burst through the door.

"Brittany, Mom says –"

I tried pulling away, but Brittany had her arms wrapped tightly around my waist and refused to let go. Ashley was gaping at us with her mouth wide open, and I started to squirm, uncomfortable with someone watching me show any sort of affection – especially when it was in a moment as private as the one I was sharing with Brittany.

Ashley glared at her sister. "Why didn't you tell me she was back?"

Brittany finally let me go to address her. "Because she doesn't want to hang out with a little snot like you."

"I'm not a snot, and yes, she does. Don't you S'tana?"

I didn't get a chance to reply. Ashley ran full speed into my side, hugging my legs with her little hands and head butting my stomach. "Oof. Shit," I wheezed.

Ashley jumped back and gasped. "You said a bad word!"

"What? No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did! Brittany, didn't she say a bad word?"

Brittany was trying to fight off her giggles. "I think she did, Ash."

"Now you have to put a quarter in the cuss jar," Ashley said.

"What the hell is a cuss jar?" I asked.

The little girl gasped again. "You said another one!"

"That is not a bad word," I defended.

Brittany's hand grabbed my elbow and slid down to clasp our hands together. "Actually," she whispered, "it counts in front of Ashley. Mom and Dad made the list."

"What is this cuss thing she's yammering on about?" I whispered back.

"Every time someone says a word on the list, you have to put money in the jar."

I looked back at her sister, who was looking up at me expectantly. "That's two quarters you have to put in the jar now!" she reminded me.

I let go of Brittany's hand so I could kneel in front of her sister. "And what if I refuse to pay up?"

"You have to go in time-out. And you have to go longer because you said two bad words," she explained, though I could tell that I was shaking her confidence.

"What if I refuse to let you put me in time-out? What then, Squirt?"

She looked up at Brittany, clearly at a loss. It was obvious that no one had ever refused to follow the cuss jar rules in the Pierce household.

I heard Brittany speak from above. "Then you'll have to suffer the consequences."

I started to look up at Brittany. "What conse–"

My hands barely had time to brace my falling body before I hit the floor. Brittany's body collided with mine as she pinned me against her yoga mat. She was sitting on the top of my thighs, immobilizing my legs. I didn't have time to fight back because she grabbed my wrists and held them down above my head with one of her hands.

"Quick, Ash! You do that side, and I'll get this one."

It suddenly clicked in my brain what Brittany planned to do. "Brittany, no! Don't! I swear to god if you –"

My pleas were ignored as both of them relentlessly attacked my sides with their fingers. I screamed with laughter and kicked furiously to no avail. Brittany would not budge.

"Keep your fingers by her ribs, Ashley. That's where she's most ticklish. Yeah, right there. Good job!"

"Britt – Brittany…Stop…I'm begg–begging you…Ash…God, please just…Sssssstop!"

I couldn't breathe, and they were loving it. Ashley giggled maniacally while Brittany just grinned down at me. After what felt like hours, I heard Brittany tell her sister to stop. I sucked in deep breaths to allow my body to recover the oxygen it had been deprived.

"The key to the best tickling," Brittany explained, "is to stop to let them recover."

"Why?" Ashley asked.

"Because that way they think it's over and won't expect it when you start again!"

I felt her fingers back against my ribs, followed a split second later by Ashley's. Tears were streaming out of my eyes. My attempts to squirm out from under Brittany weren't working. She had always been stronger than me and never had a problem using it to her advantage. My legs were kicking frantically as I tried to buck her off of me. I guess we were making a lot of noise because less than a minute into the second tickling session, I heard Carolyn yell up the stairs.

"What are you girls doing up there?"

"Nothing!" Brittany and Ashley shouted.

"It doesn't sound like nothing to me! Ashley, if you're done making that racket you can come down and watch cartoons now. The tv is free. Your dad just left."

My eyes were too tired to open, and the floor shook as Ashley ran from the room, not needing any more persuasion. My entire body was exhausted from the effort of laughing and trying to fight off my attackers. Ragged breaths were going in and out of my chest. It felt like I had just run ten miles. I could feel Brittany leaning over me, her free hand joining the other that had been holding my wrists. Her fingers slid between mine, and I finally forced my eyes open.

"Did you learn your lesson?" she asked.

"Yeah," I gasped, still struggling for air. "Never open my mouth around Ashley again. I can't do it without swearing."

Brittany laughed, and even though I wanted to hate her for putting me through that torture, it was the sweetest thing I could have heard at that moment. The crushing force that had been squeezing my heart since I'd walked into her bedroom had finally loosened its grip, and I felt normal once more. Her expression suddenly turned serious as she moved her face inches from mine.

"Are we okay? You promise you're not mad at me?"

I knew she wasn't talking about the tickle attack. "Yeah, Britt. We're good."

Her smile was so big. And even though my cheeks were aching from laughing, I couldn't help but return it. "So are you hungry?" she asked.

"Actually, I brought you some soup because I thought you were sick. There's enough for both of us if you want it."

"Ooh, what kind is it?"

"Mami's chicken noodle."

Without warning, Brittany leapt off of me and hurried to the thermoses. "Don't get excited," I told her. "Mami didn't make it."

The way her face dropped was almost too adorable. "Oh."

"I made it," I said as I stood, shrugging and trying to downplay the effort I'd put into preparing the soup. "It's probably not as good, but it should be decent. Although, I'm not sure if you deserve it after that stunt you pulled with Ashley," I added.

With a thermos in each hand, Brittany leaned over and kissed my cheek. The patch of skin her lips touched felt like it had been set on fire. "You're sweet, but you totally deserved everything you got. Just be glad Mom interrupted us. It could have been much worse."

She kissed me once more on the cheek, and I prayed that she couldn't feel the heat that had remained on my skin when she did.

"Want to watch cartoons with Ash?"

Figuring an afternoon in front of the television was better than not being with her at all, I agreed. "As long as we don't have to watch SpongeBob. He creeps me the fuck out."

A jab to my ribs made me jump. "Watch your language, young lady."

I grabbed a thermos from her hand and followed her out of her room.

"Yes, ma'am."

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