May 2008

When I was in eighth grade, my favorite class was creative writing. A lot of people hated it, but I thought it was so fun. Over the first month, I wrote a series of short stories about Lord Tubbington, and Mrs. Roberts told me that they were very imaginative. I wanted her to think that I had a good imagination, so I didn't tell her that they were all true. Anyway, my favorite assignment came in May. When everyone got to class and sat down, Mrs. Roberts said, "I want you all to write a story today about your first crush." Everyone in the class started whispering. Some people giggled, but others looked kind of embarrassed. "It doesn't need to be sexual," she continued, making more people laugh. "Just try to remember when you were very young, meeting someone who you couldn't stop looking at. Someone who you really wanted to be friends with."

I smiled. My first crush was easy to remember. I decided to write a story about the first day of kindergarten, the day I met Santana. She came into the room and I remember that I dropped my crayons because I was so surprised by how beautiful she was. I pulled open my notebook and began to write really fast. When I was about five sentences in, Suzy Pepper turned around in her seat to face me. "I can't think of anything," she whispered. "What are you writing about?"

"Um." I paused with my pen above the page. I hadn't said Santana's name yet, but I had just started to describe her hair and her skin and the way she had first looked at me with one of her eyebrows raised. I didn't really want to tell Suzy who I was writing about, but I saw her eyes flicker down to the page and move back and forth as she read my paragraph. Then she looked up at me strangely.

"Oh," she said before turning back. I shrugged and kept on writing.

By the end of the day, everyone in the class seemed to know about my creative writing assignment. They didn't know who it was about, but they seemed very interested by the thought that my first crush was a girl. I wanted to ask Santana to explain to me why they suddenly seemed to think I was a freak, but for some reason, she was nowhere to be found. She seemed to be avoiding me, and as the day went on, I became more and more miserable. When the last bell finally rang, I practically ran to my locker, ready to get my books and go home. But for some reason, Rachel Berry was standing there waiting for me. "Hello Brittany," she said brightly.

"What do you want?" I asked, sounding meaner than I meant to. I wasn't mad at her, but I really wanted to go home. Rachel, however, didn't seem to get the message.

"Well, I don't know if you remember, but we used to be quite friendly in elementary school," she began. "We took dance together, as I recall."

"I remember," I said.

I turned away from her, facing my locker. As I began to spin the lock, she said, "I heard about the story you wrote."

"I'm sorry if I made you mad," I said, trying not to sound as upset as I felt, "but everyone else already made it clear that it was wrong, so don't worry. I won't do it again."

"No," Rachel said quickly. "No, Brittany, I wanted to say that I thought it was very...admirable of you. I have two gay dads," she explained. "I've had to deal with animosity from my peers for my entire life and to see someone be so open and unapologetic about their sexual orientation was really inspiring to me. So I just wanted to say that I applaud your bravery."

"Oh." I didn't really understand what Rachel meant, except the part about having two dads, which was interesting because I never knew that. I had never heard of someone having two dads before. I wondered if there were kids who had two moms. "Um, thank you," I said.

"You're very welcome," Rachel replied. She looked around the hallway and suddenly she seemed nervous. I wondered why.

"Well I guess I'm going to get my stuff now," I said, pointing at my locker.

"Hold on," Rachel reached out to put her hand on my arm. She looked down at where we were touching and pulled away quickly. Then she took a deep breath. "As you can imagine, growing up with gay fathers, I have an intrinsically different ideology from most children," she began.

"Okay," I said.

"Unlike many of our classmates, I have not been sheltered from the idea of homosexuality. My fathers never made the assumption that I would be interested in boys. As a result, I find that I am far more willing than most people to be open to all types of experimentation. Unfortunately, I have not been able to fully explore my options due to the regrettably closed-minded atmosphere in Lima, but now here you are..." Rachel bit her lip. "We know each other well, and you're aesthetically pleasing to me, and I think that there could be some potential here. If you're agreeable, I think it would be interesting, to say the least, if we explored some kind of relationship...whether or not it would work, I can't honestly say, but if we were to give it a try, with no expectations for one another, just to see what happens...say, one dinner, perhaps, and then if things are disastrous, we can simply say that it was a friendly outing and be done with it." The longer she went on, the faster she started talking, until I began to feel overwhelmed and held up a hand for her to stop.

"Rachel," I said, feeling immensely confused.

"Yes?" she asked anxiously.

"Are you trying to get me to ask you on a date?"

Rachel turned a deep shade of red. "Maybe," she said in a small voice. She looked so worried that I started to laugh a little bit. When I did, she began to look even more horrified. "Oh God," she breathed. "I've completely missed the mark, haven't I? Please don't tell anyone. Especially not Santana. I promise I'll leave you alone."

I stopped laughing immediately, realizing that she thought I was making fun of her. "Stop talking," I said. Rachel just nodded. Then, without really thinking about it, I asked, "Will you go out with me this weekend?"

Rachel's face lit up immediately and it made me feel warm inside. "Yes, absolutely," she said. "Thank you so much."

"You're going to have to talk less, though," I said. "Or at least use smaller words."

Rachel laughed. "I promise."

For the rest of the week, I could barely concentrate in school. I was busy planning out our date, and I was kind of nervous. My parents had always told me that the most important thing to look for on the first date was a guy that acted like a gentleman, and I wanted to make sure that I was respectful. But I was worried. Would it be different with two girls? How was I supposed to act? Santana would probably know the answer because she always seemed to know everything, but she continued to avoid me all week. So I planned the date all by myself, and on Friday evening, I got everything ready and went over to the park.

I made sure I was a little bit early so that Rachel wouldn't get there before me, and I sat on one of the tables until she arrived. When she saw me, she waved excitedly and hurried over. Instead of wearing the skirt and sweater that she had been wearing that day at school, she was dressed in jeans and a white tank-top. Her hair was down and she was a lot cuter than I remembered. I blushed a little bit as she got closer. "Hi," I said.

"Hi yourself," she replied, sitting down on the table next to me. "So are you finally going to tell me what you planned for this surprise date?"

I looked over at the basket next to me, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "I thought we should have a picnic," I said quietly.

Rachel beamed and I immediately felt better. "That's so cute," she said.

I smiled. "Good," I said, getting up and picking up the basket. I set it down on the grass and took out a blanket for us to sit on. We both sat down and Rachel looked up at me, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. She was blushing a little bit, and I started to feel tingly. "I wasn't sure what people ate on picnics or what you liked to eat, so I made waffles," I explained. "Since everyone likes waffles. Except now that I think about it, it's sort of a dumb thing to eat for dinner."

"Oh, Brittany," Rachel said with a laugh. "You're adorable." She pulled the picnic basket close to her and began to unpack it.

Things became less awkward after we started eating. Rachel liked to talk, which I appreciated because it took away a lot of the pressure. We talked about school and dancing and she told me about how she had started voice lessons and hoped to join the Glee Club in high school. I didn't know what a Glee Club was, but when she explained it, it actually sounded really fun. "Can you join Glee Club to dance?" I asked.

"Of course," Rachel said. "We always need backup dancers. It makes the performance more dynamic."

"I think I want to join Glee Club, too," I said. "But I have to do Cheerios." Since we were little, Santana had talked nonstop about how we were going to join the Cheerios when we got into high school. Now that eighth grade was almost over, we had just started practicing for our tryout in the fall.

"I think you can do both," Rachel said. "It would be cool if you did. Apparently, cheerleaders don't usually get along with people in the Glee Club."

"That's silly," I said. Rachel smiled adorably, and I found myself wondering why Santana and I were always so mean to her. She was cool. Being out with her was different than being out with a boy, too. I mean, I had liked dating Finn and I had gone on dates with a few other people since then, but being with Rachel was more comfortable. Plus, she didn't stare at my boobs while I talked, and she seemed to care about more than just kissing. As we finished eating, though, I started to wish she would try to get a little more inappropriate. We were still sitting across from each other on the blanket, not even close enough for me to reach out and hold her hand. I tried to scoot closer to see if she would take the hint, but she seemed to be talking too much to notice. "Do you want to go to the play structure?" I asked when there was a pause in the conversation.

Rachel looked around. It was starting to get dark, and everyone but us had gone home for the night. "Sure," she said. We got up from the blanket and I followed Rachel to the swings. We both sat down and she began to move back and forth slowly, tracing circles in the sand with her toe. "This is a good date," she said. "Most guys just wanna go to the movies so that we can make out instead of talk."

"Yeah," I said. "That's true." I was surprised at how much Rachel seemed to know about dating. I wondered if she had actually dated a lot of guys before, or if she was just pretending. I glanced over at her slyly. "Does that mean we're not going to make out?" I asked.

Rachel blushed a deep red. "I don't know," she said. "Are we?" She looked uncertain.

"Whatever you want," I said, not wanting to pressure her into anything. After all, she had said she wasn't sure if she was into girls. But she had complimented me twice, so...

"Let's go on the structure," Rachel said, standing up abruptly. I shrugged and stood up from my swing. We walked over to the play structure and she began to climb up. "I haven't been on one of these forever," she said with a laugh.

"Really?" I called up to her, leaning down in front of the slide to build a sand castle. The sand was too soft and it ended up being more of a sand hill. "I come here all the time. Santana says it's babyish but I know she likes it, too."

"Santana is strange that way," Rachel said, walking over to the slide. She paused at the top and leaned against the railing. "Why are you friends with her, anyway?"

I shrugged. "We've been friends forever," I said.

"You and I were friends too, but that stopped a few years ago," Rachel replied. She looked a little bit hurt, and I felt bad for teasing her so much in sixth grade. "Why her? I mean, you guys are opposites. You're so nice and she's just..." Rachel trailed off, looking like she regretted saying anything. "You know," she finished quickly.

"She's a good person," I said, feeling awkward. "Sometimes she just gets a little jealous or angry and she has trouble controlling it."

Rachel nodded. "I just think she needs to learn when to stop," she said. Quickly, she added, "I don't blame you, though. You're a sweetie." When she said that, my whole body got warm and I couldn't stop a huge grin from spreading across my face. I hid my smile behind my hand, but luckily Rachel didn't notice it. She was looking down at the slide. "I don't know if I should go down it," she said. "I think I'm too big."

"I go on the slide all the time," I told her. "It's fine. I'll catch you at the bottom."

Rachel laughed. "Okay," she said. She sat down on the top of the slide. "Ready?"

"For sure," I replied. Rachel pushed herself off and slid down very slowly, coming to a stop right in front of me.

"Well, that was anti-climactic," she said, standing up. I laughed.

"Yeah, it used to go faster when I was littler, but..." I trailed off. I suddenly realized that we were only a few inches away from each other, and that she was looking up at me quietly. She didn't move, either, so I took a step forward, placing a hand on each of her cheeks. When she didn't pull away, I leaned in softly and took her bottom lip between mine.

It felt amazing. Rachel didn't try to grab me or force her tongue into my mouth, she just moved her lips gently against mine. I knew instantly that I had been right all along—it was the same thing as kissing a boy, or maybe it was even better, but it definitely wasn't worse and it definitely wasn't wrong. Santana was usually so smart, but she had messed up when she said that it was different, that it wasn't supposed to happen. I kissed Rachel until I felt her starting to pull away, and then I respectfully let go and looked at her. She ran her fingers across her lips and looked at me apprehensively. "Sorry," I said. "Was that okay?"

"It was definitely more than okay..." Rachel began, still trailing her fingers across the place where my lips had just been. "You're a good kisser," she said.

I blushed. "Thanks."

"But..." She looked apologetic and my heart started to sink. I already wanted to kiss her again, but I could see where this was going. "But for some reason it just doesn't feel quite right."

I sighed. "It's okay," I said. "I understand."

"Look, Brittany," Rachel said, stepping forward and taking my hand. "This has been an amazing night. And I know that if I didn't feel sparks kissing you, then I must really not be into girls. Because you did everything perfectly."

Despite my disappointment, I felt good when she said that. "Thanks," I said quietly. I was glad that I had done the date right, anyway. I had been particularly nervous about that.

"And I want us to still be friends," she said firmly.

"Of course." Then I shrugged. "That's probably better. I don't know if I like like you anyway. But you do have really soft lips."

Rachel giggled. "Thanks, I guess," she said.

"Can I kiss them again? Just one more time?"

Rachel smacked me playfully on the shoulder. "If we're going to be friends, no funny business," she said, but her eyes were twinkling and I knew that she took my interest as a compliment. "Now come on, I bet I can do the monkey bars faster than you."

I shook my head. "Most people don't know it, but I'm actually a monkey bar pro."

"Well, maybe that's just because you haven't raced me yet," she said. "Come on, let's go." She turned and hurried towards the monkey bars. I laughed and followed her.

We played at the park for a little bit longer before it got too dark to see anymore. After that, we had to walk opposite ways to get home, so we said goodbye on the sidewalk. Rachel gave me a tight hug. "Thank you," she said. "I had a lot of fun."

"Me too," I said. Unable to control myself, I leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. "Sorry," I said once I had done it.

She giggled. "It's okay. See you Monday," she said, waving as she started to walk down the sidewalk.

"Bye," I replied. I watched her until it was too dark to see her anymore, and then I began to go to my own house. Even though I had technically been rejected, I still felt really good, and I found myself humming as I walked. I swung the picnic basket back and forth in my hand.

When I got home, I was surprised to see Santana sitting on my doorstep. Her chin was resting on her hands, and when she saw me approaching, she got up and hurried down the driveway towards me. "Your mom told me you went somewhere with Rachel," she said when I reached her.

"Yeah." I shrugged. "I did." I knew she was probably mad about me and Rachel hanging out, but I didn't want to apologize. I was mad that she had been ignoring me all week.

Santana bit her lip. "A date?" she asked.

I thought about lying, but Santana seemed to know the truth already, so I said, "Yeah. But we're not girlfriends now or anything."

Santana breathed out a long breath. Her shoulders dropped. "Good," she said.

I frowned. "Good?"

"You realized you're not into her. That's good."

"Actually, it was sort of the other way around," I said. "I mean, I maybe could have liked her but she said she realized she doesn't like girls, so we're just going to be friends."

Santana looked at me for a long time. "Did you kiss her?" she asked finally.

"Yes," I said carefully, waiting for her reaction. Normally, we shared details of all our dates and kisses, but this time, she sounded more like she was accusing me of something. I wanted to tell her everything, but for the first time in my life, I felt like I couldn't.

"Did you like it?" Santana asked. She looked like she was almost afraid to hear the answer.

"I...I did," I admitted. There was a long silence. Santana turned and walked slowly back to the porch. She sat down, staring intensely at something invisible on the ground. I stood beside her, not sure what to say, watching as her leg began to shake and she brought a hand to her thigh to steady it. When she finally looked back up at me, she looked shocked.

"You're..." she began. "You're..."

"I'm what?" I asked.

She shook her head back and forth really fast. "Brittany, you're...um...do you like girls?"

"...yes," I said slowly, looking at her in confusion. I couldn't figure out why she was acting so strange. Duh, I liked girls.

"And boys?" she asked, her voice sounding higher than usual.

"Yes," I said again. Santana's eyes snapped back to the ground. I was starting to feel kind of mad. She could at least tell me what was wrong.

"You're..." she began again. This time, I didn't let her finish.

"Spit it out!" I said angrily. Santana looked up in surprise, and she seemed to snap out of her trance. She stood up and looked at me apologetically.

"Nothing," she said. Then she took a deep breath. "Next time you like a girl, you can tell me," she said. "Just so you know."

I suddenly felt very relieved. "Okay," I said. "I will."

"Good." She still looked a little shocked, but calmer than she did before. "I think your mom was making popcorn. Do you wanna watch a movie and you can tell me about your date?"

"Yeah!" I said. "I do. Let's go."

"Okay." We turned to go inside and Santana tentatively reached for my pinky. I looked down at our linked fingers in surprise, and when I looked up at Santana, she was smiling shyly. "You're the best friend ever, San," I said.

"Thanks," she replied. "You are too."