Chapter 4
I was glad my sister had decided to stay in California with her new boyfriend for the summer. Brittany was gone for a week and I moped around my bedroom avoiding Santana. Frannie would have caught on immediately and would have questioned me incessantly.
On the other hand, my parents didn't even seem to notice. My dad was working his typical long hours and hardly acknowledging my existence at dinner. Most of my mom's waking hours were spent with her friends doing random events and social outings, leaving me with the big empty house during the day.
Santana had called and texted me a few times and I ignored her, trying to make whatever it was that I was feeling disappear. Her latest voicemail was from last night and she sounded drunk and angry. I deleted it before listening to the whole thing. I knew I was hurting her and I was putting even more strain on our friendship, but I didn't know how to handle what was going on between us.
On Friday, the doorbell rang repeatedly until I finally pulled myself off of my bed to answer it. Brittany immediately wrapped me in a bone-crushing hug and I spluttered on the mouthful of blonde hair I received in my surprise. She finally pulled away and I saw Santana standing awkwardly on the porch step.
"Brittany couldn't wait to see you," she said, avoiding my eyes. I tried to smile at her and ended up just grimacing but nobody seemed to notice.
"We're going to sunbathe at Santana's. Go put your suit on!" Brittany squealed excitedly, but my gaze was still fixated on Santana. She shifted her weight awkwardly to her other foot and her attention was focused on picking at her cuticle instead of looking back at me.
"Just go do it, Q. You know it's not worth the fight," she mumbled. Brittany's face was still painted with excitement so I ushered them into the living room before trudging upstairs to put a bathing suit on.
The last thing on Earth I wanted to do was lie nearly naked on a lounge chair next to Santana, but it was seriously impossible to say no to Brittany. I sighed and pulled on my least flattering suit: a one piece Nike suit that I only wore to do pool workouts at the YMCA. I threw a loose fitting t-shirt and a pair of khaki Bermuda shorts over it and grabbed a towel from the hall linen closet, tossing it into the tote bag that had been packed for these days all summer.
Brittany grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the house, barely letting me stop to lock the door behind me. It took no time to walk the couple of blocks back to Santana's house and I let Brittany pull me through the gate in the fence and into the backyard.
Santana mumbled something and disappeared into the house, leaving Brittany and I to settle in. I couldn't relax, but I listened to Brittany tell me about her trip.
Santana re-emerged ten minutes later holding a pitcher of lemonade and three glasses with a magazine tucked under her bronzed arm. Her tan had gotten even darker in the week I hadn't been here. She had changed into a tiny navy blue bikini with little white polka dots on it and I couldn't deny that it looked absolutely perfect on her.
"You look hot," said Brittany, shamelessly raking her eyes over Santana's exposed skin. Santana smiled almost shyly at the tall blonde before dropping the pitcher on the little table next to meand pulling her aviators down over her eyes as she settled into her own lounge chair.
It was a quiet afternoon. Brittany had fallen asleep shortly after we had lain down. Santana's nose was buried in her copy of Seventeen, obviously avoiding me. I sighed and closed my own eyes, wondering if we should try to talk about it. Talking hadn't exactly been working for us, but it seemed like the mature thing to do.
"I'm sorry for running out on you the other night," I said softly, pushing my own sunglasses up on the bridge of my nose to make sure my eyes were completely blocked from her gaze.
"I shouldn't be surprised; it's what Quinn Fabray does."
"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked, an icy edge to my voice.
"You know exactly what it means. You run away when things get too real. I seriously have no idea what kind of issues you have, Quinn, but I'm not really interested in the baggage that you're obviously lugging around."
I huffed in annoyance. I'm not sure why I was annoyed; I had started this conversation to make it clear that we needed to stop whatever was going on with us for good.
"How are you just so okay with all of this? It doesn't matter to you that you're teasing guys by making out with your best friends at parties? Don't you know how people speculate about you and Brittany behind your back? This isn't San Francisco; it's Lima fucking Ohio. People are Conservative and religious and judgmental. Doesn't any of that scare you, Santana?"
I was on the verge of angry now. She was being so nonchalant about this and she had been for months. I understood how people like Rachel Berry could be so open and comfortable with things like this, but she was an outcast with gay dads. Santana and I weren't all that different from one another: we lived on the right side of the tracks in our matching mansions. Our parents belonged to elite social groups. My family was a little more religious than hers, but I knew she had a gold cross to rival my own.
I had only seen it around her neck once. I had slept over with Brittany on a Saturday night early in the summer and woke up to Santana wearing a dress that actually didn't show off every curve of her body. It was a simple white and red sundress that went perfectly with her caramel complexion. Brittany was still sleeping heavily beside me and I could see Santana fumbling with the clasp, so I climbed out of bed to help her with it. The cross was about the same size as mine, but it had tiny diamonds inlayed. She caught my eye in the mirror as I closed the clasp around her neck and let it fall against her breastbone. It looked natural there, like it had been something that used to be a daily fixture but now only was pulled out for Sunday mass to play the role of the innocent Catholic daughter.
We went to different churches; my parents still preferred our old one so we usually drove the half an hour to it on Sundays. Santana told me that her parents rarely went anymore, but her abuela showed up at the house every Sunday morning and demanded that Santana go with her.
"Of course it scares me, Q. But what am I going to do about it? I might hide behind a façade because it's the safest thing to do in this town, but I'm sure as hell not going to stop being me." Her voice tried to come out as confident, but there was a waver of uncertainty behind it.
"And who are you, Santana Lopez?" I asked, partially because I was curious, but mostly because I knew she wasn't a big enough person to admit anything despite being away from the public eye right now.
She faltered over my question, just like I had expected her to.
"The girl that does what she wants." I could tell by her expression that she knew it was a really lame comeback, but I let it slide. She was just as vulnerable as me under that thick armor she had built around herself for protection.
We were in the backyard of Tim's house, the party already in full swing by the time we arrived. It was the second week of August. In another week, Cheerio practice would start up again and our daily freedom would be ruined. I held onto the neck of my beer bottle, sipping it now and then as I slid through the crowd with Santana and Brittany.
It was different than it had been during our freshman year. We were no longer the naïve young meat in the eyes of the guys. The Unholy Trinity was practically untouchable.
It wasn't hard to notice that we were the three prettiest girls at the party. Brittany was wearing an incredibly tight aquamarine halter-top and white shorts that left a long expanse of her dancer legs exposed and she was strutting through the grass in heels like a pro. Santana stuck to a pure white strapless dress that left basically nothing up to the imagination. She was wearing red peep toe pumps that she had picked up on our last trip to the mall using her dad's unlimited credit card. They made her calves flex, showing off her strong muscles.
My outfit was muted next to them. I was in a simple pale yellow sundress with a scoop neck. Santana had moaned about me dressing like a nun, but part of me just wasn't comfortable wearing tight clothes like her and Brittany. I had kicked off my flip-flops as soon as we got here, enjoying the feeling of the cool grass under my feet instead. I had let Santana do my hair and my long sun-kissed blonde hair fell in loose curls down my back.
Brittany disappeared into the throng in search of another beer and Santana tailed her to make sure she didn't end up lost. I wandered around, saying hi to acquaintances and ignoring the leers I was receiving from most of the girls in the room. The boys had even less tact and I could feel their staring eyes as they raked down my exposed skin that showed off my summer tan. I wished I had the protection of Santana and Brittany, but I had mastered my own bitchy glare over the last school year and I used it to discourage most of the boys.
A tall guy that I recognized as a friend of Puck's wandered up to me, a goofy grin on his face.
"Hey, Quinn," he said, smiling even wider and looking even more goofy.
"Who the hell are you?" I said coldly, not really wanting to be bothered.
"Uh, Finn Hudson. We've met like three times already. I'm best bros with Puckerman." I just nodded mutely at him, vaguely recognizing his vacant expression. He was kind of pathetic, but he had a puppy dog look to him.
"Oh yeah," I responded casually, hoping he would just give up.
"I'm going out for quarterback this year, so I'm sure I'll see you around when I get it," he said with an arrogant wink. I was just thankful that he was finally going to walk away. To the left of his shoulder, I could see Santana grinding intently with Noah Puckerman, his hands planted firmly on her ass and his mouth sucking at her neck. Finn was turning to walk away.
"Hey, Finn?" He looked back at me. "Walk with me to get another drink?" He looked like he had just won a major jackpot and I felt a soft spot for the kid with the goofy smile. He held out his arm to escort me and led me through the crowd.
I spent the rest of the night hanging out with Finn. He had no game and seemed to only be able to talk about sports and video games, but a lot of people were making a point of coming over to say hi to him. It seemed like he hadn't been lying about becoming the next quarterback for the football team
When Brittany came to fetch me to leave, I was pretty drunk and I was sitting with my hand in his. He looked annoyed at the interruption, but I dropped an unexpected kiss to his lips and told him to call me before following my blonde friend.
The next day we were back to our lounge chairs by the pool. My hangover was definitely not appreciative of the bright sun and I willed the aspirin to kick in faster, pulling my dark sunglasses tighter onto my face.
Santana looked just as hungover as me, but Brittany seemed immune to hangovers. She was bouncing happily in her seat talking about how much fun she had at the party. I just groaned in response and looked over at Santana.
She was wearing jean shorts with the fly open and a pale blue bikini top. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun on top of her head and I saw the big bruise that took up one side of her neck, obviously the work of Puck's mouth. I felt anger rise up in me that she would let a guy treat her like such a piece of meat, but I bit my lip and looked away, deciding to not open that can of worms this early in the morning.
"So Finn Hudson, huh? I didn't realize you were into overgrown Cabbage Patch Kids, Quinn." Apparently Santana had no problem opening it though.
"At least my neck doesn't look like I lost a fight with a vacuum cleaner," I retorted. Finn wasn't the best looking guy on the team, but he had potential to be really popular this year. Wasn't that the only real reason to date guys in high school?
"Quinn, that beached whale has no business dating someone as hot as us."
"You don't get to decide who I date, Santana," I said coldly, sitting up and facing her.
Brittany had a look of worry etched on her face. I sighed and got up to walk into the house.
I locked myself in the bathroom and stared in the mirror. Lucy would have killed just to get a guy like Finn Hudson to notice her. Now I had popular friends telling me that I shouldn't date him because he's not hot enough. I never thought this day would even happen in this lifetime.
The door opened and I spun around in confusion. I had definitely locked the door when I entered.
"How the hell…" I started.
"It's my house, Q. And I'm particularly skilled at picking locks," Santana said with a shrug.
"And to what do I owe the pleasure of you breaking in on me in the bathroom?" I asked, sarcasm dripping heavily from my voice.
"Britt thinks we're fighting and it made her upset so I told her I would fix it."
"Of course," I said, rolling my eyes at her.
"Is Quinnie jealous that I try to make Brittany happy?" Santana asked mockingly.
I felt my anger rise up, my fists balled at my side. But instead of punching her, which had been my first urge, I crashed our lips together. It was the first time I had initiated any such contact and Santana seemed stunned by the invasion of her personal space for a moment before she started kissing me back.
It wasn't a gentle kiss, but it was everything I needed in that moment. My lips pushed roughly against hers and she met mine with equal passion. Her hand was lost in my hair, pulling it hard and keeping my face against hers.
We pulled away only when we both could hardly breathe anymore and I rested my forehead against hers, our noses centimeters away from one another.
"Fuck, Quinn," she heaved, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath.
"Brittany is waiting for us," I said, walking out of the bathroom and leaving a flushed Santana behind.
The afternoon was full of stolen glances. Every time I looked up from my book, Santana's eyes were glued to me and she would smirk before turning her attention back to the magazine in her lap. After lunch, Brittany insisted we all go in the pool and Santana's fingers seemed to graze my wet skin under the water every time she got close to me. She was having the effect on me that she desired. Despite knowing it was the last thing I should do, I desperately wanted to throw her up against the side of the pool and kiss her.
The rest of the week flew by and Sunday night found the three of us lying on the floor of Brittany's bedroom. We had painted our toenails and eaten more pizza than we would normally consider to be okay. It was the last chance we had for pizza anyway; starting tomorrow we would be back under Sue Sylvester's reign of terror.
Brittany's head was lying on my stomach and I played with her fine hair absentmindedly, thinking about what sophomore year would hold. If Finn made quarterback this week like he said was inevitable, we would probably be a couple by the time school was back in session.
We slept over Brittany's that night and groaned when the alarm went off at 6 a.m. The first week would be double sessions like last year and I was not looking forward to running so early in the morning. We got up and slipped into Cheerio t-shirts and red shorts. It was technically tryouts, but I wasn't really worried about our spots on the team and I knew we'd have Varsity uniforms on by Friday.
The morning session was beyond brutal. Coach Sylvester ran us up and down the length of the football field for hours, trying to immediately weed out half of the new girls. It worked; by the afternoon session we had lost at least a dozen girls. That didn't make it any easier. Most of it was conditioning as well and I could literally feel the summer's worth of pizza calories being burned off.
I was ready for dinner by the time she yelled in the megaphone for us to hit the showers. I turned my shower to cold in the locker room, letting the freezing water soothe my burning muscles. We had worked out over the summer to stay in shape, but it seemed like Sylvester's standards had gotten even higher in the last two months.
Santana and Brittany were showering a couple of stalls down from me, probably together. Nobody seemed to be batting an eye at it; the two of them had been so inseparable for years that it would have probably been weirder if they actually did something by themselves. I just rolled my eyes at their giggles that echoed through the tiled room and massaged the shampoo into my scalp.
My parents were quiet as usual at dinner, though I had no urge to talk. My whole body was already aching and it was taking all of my effort to chew my chicken. As soon as I cleared the plates, I collapsed onto my bed and fell asleep, not even bothering to climb under the blanket.
The rest of week was the same exact routine. The morning session consisted of hellish conditioning. Then I'd eat a Sylvester-approved lunch and drink a gallon of Gatorade to avoid passing out. After that, we'd return for session two, which had thankfully become more cheerleading related, but involved an awful lot of conditioning still. After she yelled a final time into her megaphone, we'd shower in the locker room, I'd return home to eat a silent dinner with my parents and fell asleep before 8 o'clock.
I was relieved when she finally gathered us around before lunch on Friday to announce the squad. The afternoon session would only be for those that were actually on the team and would hopefully mean we were going to begin learning a routine.
Santana and Brittany's names were called almost immediately. I got more nervous as the list went on and mine wasn't called. Santana kept glancing at me, her eyes looking nearly as nervous as mine. I didn't get it, I was just as fit as them and I didn't slack off at all. Sure, I had eaten a lot of pizza, but it hadn't affected my ability to beat the majority of the girls in sprints.
"And my head Cheerio this year is Quinn Fabray. She is my second in command, so I would encourage you to not do anything that would put you on the wrong side of either one of us." Sylvester walked away and I just stood there with my jaw hanging open. I thought she had given me head Cheerio last year more as a punishment than anything else. But I was the actual captain this year and she had put her authority behind me that the girls were to not make my life a living hell this time.
A few of the girls congratulated me, patting my shoulder as they headed towards the picnic tables to eat lunch. Santana and Brittany waited until everybody else had cleared out, leaving just the three of us on the field.
"Head Cheerio Fabray. You're crazy if you think you're going to get away with bossing me around," Santana said with a smirk. She linked pinkies with Brittany and I walked beside the two of them, not knowing what else to do.
Finn caught up with me near the end of our lunch break. He was heading towards the practice field, the football pads on his shoulders making him look even more massive. He gave me a goofy grin and told me that he had gotten the starting quarterback position. When he asked me go to Breadstix with him the next night, I agreed despite Santana scowling beside me.
"I can't believe you're actually going to date that Orca," she seethed, watching him walk away, high fiving Puck when they met up.
"What's wrong with Finn? He's the quarterback of the football team and he's sweet," I said casually, chugging more Gatorade.
"Besides the fact that he constantly looks like he's constipated, he's dumb as a bag of rocks. You're like the smartest girl in the grade, Fabray."
I blushed at the offhand compliment. He was kind of one dimensional, but he had potential to be the perfect arm candy to go into sophomore year with.
"Why does my intelligence matter for who I date? Isn't there some unwritten rule that the head cheerleader dates the quarterback? We'll have full reign of this school from this," I said. Santana knew I was right. McKinley's social hierarchy was based around the football team and the Cheerios.
My date with Finn was uneventful. Santana was right in saying that he wasn't that smart. I was easily bored by his babble about football, but I nodded politely and ate my salad. He walked me to the door and he kissed me goodbye. It was wet and sloppy and not really enjoyable at all. I pulled away and gave him a fake smile before sliding into the house.
News of my head Cheerio status and that I was dating quarterback Finn Hudson had flown fast through the gossip rings of Lima. I walked into McKinley on Tuesday morning with Santana and Brittany flanking my sides and people leaped out of the way of our swaying Cheerio skirts. Whispers followed us down the hallway and I basked in the attention for once, enjoying that I was the center of everybody's attention.
Finn was waiting at my locker like an obedient puppy, his black backpack slung over one shoulder. He was wearing a polo shirt and jeans, his dark hair was sticking up messily and it was in desperate need of a haircut. I saw Puck cling onto Santana a few lockers down, his hand around her waist and his mouth dangerously close to her ear.
I let Finn place a wet kiss on my lips before turning to open my locker. He leaned against the locker next to me and was rambling on about their upcoming game, but I just tuned him out as I unloaded my bag and organized my locker. Grabbing a notebook, I let him hold my other hand as he walked me to homeroom. I was rewarded with another sloppy kiss at the door, but I gave him a little smile and walked inside.
Sophomore year was a little harder. I had interchanged AP English and AP U.S. History to my schedule of honors classes and by the last period of the day, I was already weighed down in homework. Santana was in most of my classes again this year, though she had chosen to not take AP English with me. We sat together at a table in the back of the chemistry lab as the teacher read over the typical first day of school syllabus. She was doodling on the back cover of her brand new notebook and I watched her slim hand move along the cardboard, engraving it with hard strokes of her ballpoint pen. There was no actual picture, just swirls and stars, but I liked watching her draw. Her brow was furrowed in mild concentration and the muscles and tendons danced in the back of her hand as she gripped the pen.
"You're a creep, Fabray," she whispered playfully, having caught me staring at her hands. She dropped the pen and let her hand fall into her lap. I nearly squealed aloud when I felt her fingertips graze along the pleats of my Cheerio skirt. "My hands have better uses than drawing," she said, her voice deep. I swallowed thickly.
Fortunately, she didn't push it any farther, instead picking the pen back up with her left hand and continuing her doodle. My face maintained its crimson blush for the remainder of the period and I bolted out of my seat as soon as the final bell of the day rang.
Finn had gym last period, so he didn't meet me outside of class. I decided to wait up for Santana to walk to our lockers together. She strolled out of the classroom, her ponytail swaying behind her long after the rest of the class had exited. We walked next to one another in silence, stopping to pick Brittany up from Home Economics before gathering our books and heading for our locker room.
The Cheerios were spoiled. Our locker room was probably nice enough to be used by professional athletes. We each had a huge red locker with a name plate on it and at the beginning of the season, Sylvester would fill the shelf with our new track suits, personalized water bottles, and freshly pressed uniforms. When winter rolled around, our Cheerio jackets and ear warmers would be added to the mix to ensure that we could always be showing off what team we belonged to.
There was no reason to change for practice since we were already in our uniforms, so I hung my backpack up on the hook inside my locker. My locker tended to gain extra items, probably from my head Cheerio status so I wasn't surprised to see the shoebox on my shelf. I pulled the box out and revealed new white sneakers that had Fabray embroidered on the heel. Santana eyed them jealously as I slid my feet into them, wondering how Sylvester knew my shoe size.
Most of the Cheerios were already standing on the field when Santana, Brittany, and I arrived. They looked towards me and I remembered that I was now in charge of warm-ups before Coach arrived. I dropped my duffel bag on the edge of the track and tightened my ponytail before mustering up my authoritative voice to tell them all to get on the track. We ran a few laps and stretched before I lined everybody up for a round of sprints. Coach appeared as we were sprinting and she looked pleased with me. When I cut us off to start practice, my teammates didn't seem to share that enthusiasm with Coach Sylvester. Most of them were gasping for breath, clutching their chests. We got some water before heading towards Coach and her megaphone. The rest of the practice was spent working on technique. Head Cheerio meant top of the pyramid, which frankly scared the crap out of me. I hated climbing up my teammates to the top, where I rested my body precariously on the surface of Santana and my teammate Ashley's backs, hoping that they wouldn't collapse under the pressure.
I felt good after practice, my muscles tired, but not aching like they had for the last two weeks. I took a long shower, humming to myself as I did and ignoring the giggles coming from a few stalls down that I'm sure contained my two best friends. Brittany left the shower before Santana, calling goodbye to me as she passed. She had dance tonight so her mom was picking her up.
I jumped a mile when I head the stall door open behind me. I spun around to see Santana leaning against the door, her red Cheerio towel wrapped around her body, though her skin was still damp and her hair was dripping.
"Looking good, Fabray," she said, winking at me before letting her eyes wander slowly down my body. I moved to try to cover myself, which just made her laugh. "Why hide something so sexy?" My cheeks were fuchsia now and not from the hot water.
I turned off the water and reached for my towel, but she beat me to it. I groaned at her extended arm, keeping my fluffy towel out of my reach. I felt exposed and I wanted the cover of the towel, but I also couldn't take my eyes off of the lean muscles of Santana's shoulder as she stretched to keep it away from my frantic hands.
She gave me an evil smile before tossing the towel to me. Before I could even secure it around my body, her mouth was covering mine, her breath warm and her tongue gliding along my bottom lip. I nearly dropped the towel altogether from the surprise, but I kept my hand firmly on it, covering my naked body and letting her tongue enter my mouth to massage mine. She nipped at my lip and I moaned softly into her mouth at the sensation, feeling wetness flood in between my legs. Why was it only Santana had the ability to do this to me?
"Come over and study with me tonight?" she said, her voice deep and sexy as she kissed my jaw. I barely nodded, but she felt it and smiled against my throat as she kissed it.
I let her take my hand and lead me back into the main part of the locker room. She walked to her own locker and pulled out her duffel. The towel fell to the floor carelessly as she held out a tiny pair of lace panties and slid them up her legs. My eyes followed the movement, my mouth going dry at the sight. Santana knew she was being watched, but she didn't stop. She pulled a matching bra from her bag and snapped it on, covering her perfectly round boobs. I had seen her naked before in the locker room and in our bedrooms hundreds of times, but I had never noticed how dark her areola were. I also had never wished I could take one of her nipples into my mouth, but I was really having that urge right now.
She pulled on a Cheerios t-shirt and a pair of red track pants and I scrambled to dress, feeling her eyes burn holes in me as I pulled my plain cotton panties and sports bra on. I opted for white shorts and tossed on a t-shirt and a red Cheerio sweatshirt instead. I slid my feet into my Adidas sandals and tossed my uniform, towel, and sneakers into my duffel before I turned back to her.
"Ready?" she asked, a sexy smirk still lingering on her full lips. I gave another weak nod and followed her out to the parking lot where her mom was waiting for us. In another few months we would both have our licenses and we'd be able to drive ourselves home from school.
The ride was quiet. Mrs. Lopez was on her Bluetooth headset, jabbering away about something work related. Santana toyed with the radio and tapped her fingers on the dashboard when she found a song she liked. When Mrs. Lopez asked me if I was getting out at my house, I shook my head and she drove past it, pulling into their driveway instead.
We headed up to Santana's room while she made dinner. I dropped my heavy backpack right inside of the door and as soon as Santana closed it, her lips were on mine. Thoughts of my boyfriend never even crossed mine as I kissed her back, reveling in her soft yet passionate kiss. I let her push me back towards her bed and she fell on top of me as we tumbled onto it, our lips never leaving one another. My whole body was tingling with the sensation of her lips and her hands, which were firmly planted in my wet hair.
"San…" I mumbled, partially because of the amazing sensation that was spreading from where she was kissing my neck and partially because I was afraid that I was going to let this go too far.
"Just give in, Q. I know you want this as much as I do," she said, her voice muffled by my neck. She moved down and sucked lightly on my collarbone, causing my hips to jerk up into her and she knew she had gotten the response she was hoping for. I was a goner.
When Mrs. Lopez called us for dinner, Santana yelled at that we weren't hungry and her mom accepted that, leaving us alone. Santana's hands were on my stomach just under my t-shirt, having already pulled my sweatshirt over my head a few long minutes ago. I was panting under her touches, desperate for more while wanting it to stop at the same time. My body was in a constant struggle with itself, trying to twist out of Santana's grip, but also moving into it. She stayed strong on top of me, pulling low moans out of me with her mouth and hands.
The hands under my shirt inched upwards slowly. I could feel her gauging my every move, but I really had no control over the reactions my body was giving her anymore. When I felt them stop right below the swell of my breast, I took a deep breath and pulled her mouth back up to me, kissing her deeply. She took it as the answer she was looking for and she moved her hands slowly upwards again, palming my chest expertly.
"You okay?" she said softly against the shell of my ear, her voice actually expressing concern. I responded with a low moan as the pad of her thumb ran over my left nipple. I felt it tighten uncomfortably under the touch, but it felt so good at the same time.
She continued her ministrations above my bra and I started feeling bad that my hands were lying limply on my sides against the mattress. I reached up and rested my hands on her waist. Her t-shirt had slid up and I dragged my fingers along the bare flesh, loving the feel of her soft skin under my touch.
Santana removed her hands and gripped the edge of my t-shirt, pulling it up. I sat up to help her get it over my head and she yanked my sports bra with it, leaving me topless and feeling vulnerable. I immediately moved my hands to cover my bare chest, but she grabbed my wrists.
"You're beautiful, Quinn," she said, her voice silky and making me shiver. I let my eyes meet hers and I could see the lust swirling in the deep chocolate orbs. She had shifted her body, slipping a thigh between my own legs instead of straddling my hips and the pressure on my lower abdomen felt amazing. She pulled off her own t-shirt and reached around to undo her own bra, tossing them both on the floor next to us. Santana took my hands in hers and placed them back on her sides as she leaned down to kiss me again. I let my fingers explore the skin slowly, feeling the quick breaths against her ribcage.
Santana slid her body down mine, causing me to sigh at the sensation. Her lips brushed against the side of my breast and I shuddered. She was moving frustratingly slow, but at the same time I appreciated how she was worshipping every inch of my skin. I bit my lip harshly when her warm mouth found my nipple. She took it in her mouth and I arched my back up into her, loving the feeling of her lips wrapped around it as she rolled her tongue languidly over the hard bud.
"Fuck, San," I hissed through my teeth. She smiled against me but didn't stop, using her fingers to roll the other nipple to match the pace of her tongue. White heat was surging south in my body and I wanted more.
She seemed to know exactly what I needed. She rolled her hips, pushing her thigh against my center and causing me to moan softly at the delicious friction. Her body was moving so slowly that it was nearly torture, but every roll of hips made wetness surge to my center and I clawed at her back, holding her close.
I was panting hard from her movements, feeling like I could explode just from the feel of her mouth on my nipple and the friction from her thigh against me. She had other plans though. She pulled away from me and I whined at the loss of her warm body on top of mine. My eyes widened when I saw what she was doing. She shimmied her track pants down her hips and kicked them off of her feet, leaving her just in her lace panties. I licked my lips at the sight, seeing the dark patch of her arousal on the panties. She was still back on her heels and she tugged at my shorts, looping her thumbs through the side of my panties and pulling them down simultaneously.
I fought the urge to cover myself again. Santana's eyes were darker than I had ever seen them and I followed their path to the wetness that was glistening against my inner thighs. She moved down and kissed me on the lips. Her hands softly massaged the tops of my thighs, fingernails raking along the burning hot skin. I was mewing softly, wanting more. She moved inwards and slid her palms up close to my center. A look of surprise appeared on her face when I didn't stop her. She cupped me, causing us both to groan.
"You're so wet," she said in a husky voice, her mouth against my ear. I groaned at her words, knowing them to be true. "Are you okay, Quinn?"
She had been asking me that so much tonight, taking it slow and doing everything to not scare me away. I felt bad that she was so worried about pushing me too far, but I had run away scared so many times that I couldn't blame her.
I didn't respond verbally, but instead canted my hips up into her palm, looking for more friction. She got my hint and let her fingers slide through the slick lips. I groaned and moved my hips, wanting to feel more of her. She circled my clit and I had to bite my palm to keep from screaming out. Her eyes met mine and she smiled, moving slowly again and keeping her finger just out of the throbbing zone of my clit. She knew exactly how to move to drive me crazy, but I didn't want it to end. I could feel the pressure building in my lower abdomen and it was like nothing I had ever felt before. All I could think about was how sexy Santana looked with her bare, heaving chest and her hand between my legs.
"You're still a virgin, right?" she asked quietly. We hadn't talked about it since our conversation about Paul after prom. I knew she had slept with two guys plus Brittany over the summer so this wasn't new territory for her.
I nodded, my cheeks flushing at the admittance. She took her free hand and cupped my chin, pulling my face to hers.
"I'll be gentle, Quinn. Just tell me if I'm hurting you and I'll stop." I nodded again, not trusting my voice. She moved her fingers down to my entrance and circled it with a little pressure, running her free hand along my arms trying to get me to relax.
"Are you ready?" She was looking right in my eyes. I bit my lip but nodded. She smiled and kissed me before I felt her finger slowly increase the pressure and push into my entrance. I tensed as it entered. It hurt for a minute, but she stopped as soon as I winced and waited for me to adjust. Her hand was still rubbing my arm soothingly and I felt so safe in her arms. When my body relaxed, I opened my eyes and she started moving slowly in and out.
I moaned at the sensation. My inner walls were pushing against Santana's finger but I could feel it sliding in and out of me and causing the build up in my lower abdomen. She moved her other hand down to rub tight circles on my clit and I felt myself racing full speed ahead. My head was thrown back and I gripped her arm, digging my fingernails into the soft flesh.
"Come for me, Quinn," Santana breathed, kissing my neck and jaw. Her fingers sped up and I felt my orgasm rip through me, my hips bucking uncontrollably but Santana held on, her finger pumping in and out and drawing out my orgasm. I finally started to come down and she slowed with me until her hand stopped completely, the digit still buried inside of me. My chest was heaving and I could feel the layer of sweat shining on my skin. Santana's lips were kissing over my collarbone and up my neck, finally meeting my lips. As she kissed me, she slipped her hand from between my legs.
Once my senses returned, it brought the panic with it. Santana was cuddled into me, her body naked besides her tiny panties. Her fingers were running along my abs, tickling me slightly. My heart was beating fast at the feel of her against me, but I knew I had to get out of there and get away from my crazy emotions. She wasn't even trying to get me to reciprocate; she seemed content to just lie against me. I felt exposed, missing my clothes that she had thrown on the floor.
When the feeling became too intense, I tried to roll away from her. I needed to get to my own bedroom alone as soon as possible so I could deal with whatever was going on in my head.
"Oh my God. Finn." The words slipped out as I yanked away. It was the first time I had thought about my boyfriend since Santana had burst into my shower stall in the locker room.
"Who the hell cares about him?" Santana said crankily, reaching out to pull me back down next to her.
"San, I need to go." Her fingers were clasped around my wrist.
"Please stop running away every time you actually let yourself feel something." Her voice was soft, pleading with me to stay. I shook my head quickly, avoiding her eyes.
She didn't try to stop me when I pulled myself up off of her bed and scrambled around to find my discarded clothing. My backpack was still next to the door and I slung it over my shoulder, not allowing myself to look back at the bed as I left the room.
Tears stung my eyes as I lay in bed. I had called Finn when I had calmed down and he talked for a few minutes awkwardly before we said goodnight and hung up. Santana had called too, but I didn't bother returning her phone call, choosing instead to turn my phone off. I had left her mostly naked and alone on her bed without reciprocating after she was so loving and gentle with me. I let her take my virginity without even thinking about it, something that had completely freaked me out with Paul.
Sleep didn't come easily that night. I tossed and turned, wondering if I should tell Finn that I cheated on him. I knew Santana wouldn't say anything; she cared too much about her own reputation. It was one thing to make out drunk or have people assume that she randomly hooked up with Brittany because they had been best friends for years. It was a completely other thing to admit to everybody that she had slept with me.
I pulled on my Cheerio uniform and put my hair up in the signature ponytail the next morning, using makeup to hide the bags under my eyes as best as I could. Finn was leaning against my locker when I walked in and I internally groaned, not wanting to deal with my boyfriend so soon after what happened last night.
Sucking it up, I walked towards him with a fake smile plastered on my face. He obviously bought it, because he said hi and leaned down to kiss me. I had to remind myself that it was my boyfriend when I almost turned to give him my cheek to kiss instead. His lips were rough and chapped and he tried to deepen it, sliding his tongue sloppily against my lips. I pulled back and gave him another weak smile before focusing my attention on getting my books out of my locker.
He walked me to homeroom and I only let him give me a short, chaste kiss before I headed into the room, but he looked pleased enough anyway. I got through homeroom and AP English without having to see Santana, but she was in my Spanish class right before lunch.
I made it to the class before her and I sat down at our normal table near the back of the room. I had no idea what to expect, but she strode into the room with her normal air of arrogance and slid into her seat beside me. The bell rang and Mr. Schue started class before we could say anything, which felt like a relief.
About ten minutes into class, I felt Santana nudge her notebook into my elbow and I looked down at it. She had scribbled in the corner of it in her messy lefty scrawl.
Are we okay?
I had definitely not been expecting that. Santana usually worked like a light switch. She either completely shut down and ignored you or she blazed brightly, her anger like a fire. This was a side of her that caught me completely off guard. I was the one that treated her like shit, but she was checking to make sure I was okay.
Last night shouldn't have happened, San. I have a boyfriend. I'm straight. I'm sorry that I'm stringing you along, but we really shouldn't be doing this.
It took longer than it should have for me to pass a note back to her. I had contemplated the words, trying to sound sincere but stern.
You keep saying that, yet you keep letting it happen. You might want to re-evaluate the situation, Q. If you want to be straight, fine. But you might want to try harder. Like actually convincing yourself you like kissing your boyfriend as much as you like kissing me.
It was a typical remark from Santana when she was on the verge of angry. She was pissed at me, but her first note also showed that she was worried about me. The bell rang and I felt even more conflicted than I had before.