CHAPTER 4
Three days passed between the day when she met Rigel…and Brittany…and Friday. Every day involved some riding mixed with sessions learning lines with Tina and discussions with Sam and the cast. Santana was happy, feeling the project start to gel together as they spent more time on it. It was going to be a good shoot and, she thought, an excellent film.
She had not had another chance to talk to Brittany, although she had seen the blonde from afar several times and managed to exchange smiles on a couple of occasions. Each time, Santana felt a wave of warmth spread over her and butterflies trembled in her stomach. She had finally acknowledged her attraction, but it hadn't made the situation any more comfortable than before. She found herself getting more and more desperate to know what Brittany thought of her. It was an impossible question while the blonde kept her distance, and kept her face so closed off. Santana was sure that if she got close enough the blonde's blue eyes would tell her all she longed to know, but even though they traded smiles the Latina got the impression that Brittany avoided a closer encounter. Santana would catch sight and move toward her, but the blonde always disappeared before she got there. It was beyond frustrating. Which was why a renewed suggestion that the cast and crew hit town on the Friday night provided the perfect distraction.
XXXXX
"Seriously? Robinsville has game! Who would have thought it?" Tina exclaimed, causing Quinn to laugh aloud and Jack to grin appreciatively. Santana agreed. It was a much larger city than she had been expecting. Earlier in the evening she had taken the opportunity to do a little shopping, both for groceries and other, more interesting things. Like clothes. She had seized a tight leather jacket as soon as she laid eyes on it and was wearing it proudly now, receiving the admiring glances and comments of the others with pleasure. She knew her own beauty and how to work it. The way Finn Hudson was trying to hang off her arm proved it. Not that she would have looked twice at him in a serious way, but tonight she had decided to let loose.
Mike heard the music first and gravitated toward the beat. He read the sign above the door. "Levels. Any good?"
Jack nodded. "Yeah. It's got, what did you say Tina, game?" Everyone laughed and filed through the entrance.
It was a typical club, complete with dark corners, flashing fluorescent strobe lights, a fast beat and a crowded dance floor. Mike was twisting and turning in a second, closely followed by Tina. Santana chose to follow Jack and Quinn to the bar, pleased to be rid of Finn and at the same time to drown out the memory of Brittany. Downing a couple of shots, she accepted the offer of a random to dance and lost herself in the sweat and movement of a body against her own.
By the time two hours had gone by, Santana was exhausted. But she felt the urge to keep going. The insistent pounding in her head drove her to dance, even as she was convinced that her legs were too sore to keep her upright any longer. She had to forget, she had to drain her body of the constant ache that was her deep yearning for Brittany. Luckily Jack was behind her as she fell, catching her and hauling her half-conscious to a couch kept free by Rachel and Quinn. A glass of water was pressed into her hand and she was urged to drink. Dazed, she could only smile her thanks, a smile that disappeared as Brittany appeared from the dance floor to speak into Jack's ear.
Fuck me, Santana groaned. I can't escape her…not that I want to.
Jack was replying to the blonde's comments, then he shook his head and grabbed her hand as she tried to exit by the way she had come.
"You're staying," Jack yelled, loud enough for Santana to hear. Quinn took the blonde's hands and dragged her into a dance, holding tightly to her hips and forcing Brittany to move with her. Once the taller woman accepted that she was there to stay, she took the lead and Santana swore to every witness in the universe that she had never seen anything hotter. Fuck breathing, she thought, watching Brittany run her hands through her hair and down her body.
And then she was staring into blue ice. She was lost, she was drowning, and couldn't care in the least. The guards were down. Those eyes were no longer veiled, and all they were doing was calling the Latina to them. Moving as if through treacle, Santana stood in front of Brittany, watching as she took her hands and placed them on the small of her back, drawing the Latina's front against her own. As if the beat had called it forth a current of heat and desire raced the length of Santana's body and settled somewhere below her belly button. She felt it throb and couldn't resist placing her lips to Brittany's neck, not thinking for a second that it was probably an inappropriate reaction to someone she barely knew.
But she did. She did know her. She knew this woman as well as she knew herself. It wasn't based on previous experience, or second-hand knowledge of her history. It went far deeper than that. It was a knowledge of soul and heart, a connection beyond conscious thought. And in that moment, Santana was convinced that Brittany felt exactly the same. The Latina drew her closer, the two moving as one. No one else existed, no world beyond the two of them.
The trance wasn't broken until Jack laid his hands on the backs of both women and yelled that they should leave if they wanted to be in one piece tomorrow. Reluctantly Santana pulled away, but sought out the crystal eyes again as a way of keeping the connection. Brittany generously gave her a few precious seconds, but did not say a word, not even as the group left the club and made their way back to the ranch. Santana didn't say anything either.
She split from the rest of the group as they approached her cabin. Tina was not following, choosing to stay behind and flirt with Mike. As she made her way to the doorstep, the Latina felt a hand take hers and soft lips touch her cheek.
"Thanks for the dance."
Brittany moved away, not looking back, but Santana's dark eyes followed her until she could no longer be seen.
XXXXX
It was Sunday, and Santana couldn't keep still. She had spent the previous day wandering the ranch, hoping beyond hope that she'd run into Brittany. No such luck. She'd even scoured the whole vast stables complex three times. Jack was giving her curious looks the third time around, but if he suspected her purpose for being there he didn't say anything. Seriously, had the woman just vanished? Or had she gone back to avoiding the Latina? Either way, it wasn't helping Santana's peace of mind.
Sighing, she chose a comfortable spot beneath a spreading tree and sunk into a sitting position. It was only two hours after breakfast but the sun was already hot…too hot, as though a storm was coming but couldn't be seen yet. Santana sipped from her water bottle and let her mind roam where it would. Of course, it decided the only topic of interest was a certain elusive blonde.
For once, the Latina decided to indulge fully in contemplation of the woman they called the Lioness. To begin with, she was beyond stunning. The sun-kissed hair, the startling blue of her eyes and her thin lips were almost elf-like, delicate yet somehow conveying a strength that was both mysterious and compelling. The thin neck and sturdy shoulders were corded with muscle, as was the rest of her tall, lithe body. Santana stirred as she mentally traced the long arms and legs she could so easily imagine wrapped around herself. Yes, Brittany was beautiful. But that wasn't all she was, not by a long shot. They say eyes are the windows to a person's soul, and in Brittany's case Santana could well believe it. In those rare moments when the Lioness was not guarding her emotions, the expressiveness of those eyes was enough to stop anyone in their tracks.
The emotion Santana had seen was quiet, but intense - so much so that she found it hard to breathe. She knew instinctively that the woman was capable of immeasurable depth and connection when she chose. But it was not a depth that could be taken from her. To access it, Brittany would have to offer it. Otherwise the treasure she kept at her core was unreachable. Santana desperately desired to be offered a chance to prove herself, to prove what she could be to the woman. She felt that desire transform her. She was giddy with it, but at the same time felt as though her feet were finally standing on solid ground rather than sinking in sticky mud. How curious that such a contrast was possible.
And then she slapped herself with an open palm because she knew she was gushing like a love-sick puppy. Besides, Santana had no idea what Brittany was feeling. Yes, the attraction had been mutual on Friday when they were dancing, but that was really the only time she had felt it. At any other time it felt more like the blonde was searching her, rather than revealing anything about herself.
Frustrated suddenly, Santana leapt to her feet. She had to do something, anything, to relieve the unbearable tension that was building in her. Glancing around somewhat wildly, she saw two riders mount horses outside the stables and it gave her an idea. She would go for a ride, clear her head.
Running to Jack's office, she exclaimed, "I want to ride. Would you saddle Rigel for me?"
Jack looked up from a pile of papers, a slight frown marring his weathered brow.
"Did we have a scheduled session?"
Santana shook her head, no.
"I've got to get these accounts done before the end of the day. Sorry to be a buzz-kill, but I can't take the time to supervise your practice."
"You don't have to. I want to ride beyond the stables today. There's some wide open fields around here, right? I'll go there. Please?"
Jack looked more closely at the Latina, noticing her flushed cheeks and over-bright eyes. He knew she needed to be given the space.
"Okay." He stood up and made his way to Rigel's stall, Santana following closely on his heels. As he was saddling the horse he gave his conditions.
"I want you back before the dinner hour, and you should stay within sight of the ranch buildings at all times. There are enough other riders out there today to see if you get into any trouble. Oh, and stay away from the forest and the hills. Once you reach them, you're beyond the ranch's lands. If it starts to rain you must return immediately."
"Yeah, yeah. Who knew you were such a worrier?"
"Just promise me, Santana." Jack glanced seriously at her and she forced herself to adopt a more serious mood for his benefit.
"I heard you, Jack. I'll be careful."
Jack nodded. "Okay, you're good to go."
Santana eased herself into the saddle and kicked the horse into a trot.
"See you later," she called as she went.
XXXXX
The feel of the wind on her face and the power of Rigel's muscles beneath her was intoxicating. Taking in a deep breath, she let out a feral yell which Rigel matched by quickening his gait. She was free for the moment, even from the recollection of blonde hair and ice blue eyes.
Fearless, she directed the horse across the length of the valley and back again, taking their time and moving in and out of a gallop. But by the time they reached the ranch stables again, it was still only 3pm. Stopping to let the horse drink his fill at a water trough and nibble at grass, Santana weighed her options. She could give up the last three hours until dinner and study some lines, or she could continue to ride. Of course, the latter was the better option. Lines could wait till nighttime.
Encouraging Rigel into movement again, a mood of recklessness overtook her. Jack had recommended against entering the forest, but only on the grounds that it was beyond ranch lands. If she could find a well-cut path, she'd take it. What Santana did not bother to take into account were the angry clouds gathering on the horizon, threatening to eradicate the sun which had shone unfailingly since she'd arrived in Montana.
Finding a suitable path in amongst the trees, the Latina did not hesitate to follow it. Deeper and deeper the path carved and Santana was entranced by the green light that fell through the leaves over her head and lit her way. Each breath brought smells of earth and growing things to her senses, reminding her somewhat of Brittany's scent, one she liked so much it scared her. It was fresh, new, unique.
It wasn't until she felt the first drop of wetness on her cheek that she realized the sun had disappeared and her environment had grown considerably darker. As this realization crept up on her, she and Rigel emerged into a small clearing, full of long grass and small silver flowers. Stopping to take a drink of water, Santana glanced up into the angry grey sky.
"Shit," she muttered. "Jack might have been right."
Turning the horse she made her way back onto the path on which she had entered the clearing and urged him into as fast a trot as the way would allow. The rain fell heavier as she went, turning the hard-packed earth to mud. After half an hour of riding, they came across a fork in the path. Santana had not seen it on the way into the forest and now had no idea which divergence to take.
"SHIT!" This time the curse was much louder.
Finally she took the left-hand path and hoped it was the right one. An hour later and it was almost pitch-black. The Latina was soaked to the skin, shivering as gusts of cold wind bit through her clothing. Nope, not the right way. Sighing wearily she was about to turn Rigel back toward the fork when they came across a clearing much like the one they'd been in an hour and a half ago. Maybe it was the same one, but it was too dark to tell for sure. Santana had been breathing curses almost non-stop under her breath for a while now.
And then, the topping on the worst metaphorical cake ever baked. A flash of lightning lit up every part of the landscape for a millisecond and a clap of thunder followed at almost the same time, seeming to shake the ground. It was so loud, so startling, that Rigel reared in panic. Santana, not an expert rider, found herself sliding sideways out of the saddle. She clutched desperately for the saddle's horn and missed, landing heavily on the sodden forest floor, her right ankle twisting beneath her. An excruciating pain shot through her body. The horse was still rearing and Santana rolled to try and avoid the flailing hooves. A glancing blow on her forehead stunned her and laid her prone on the ground. Rigel took off, crashing away from his rider and into the undergrowth.
An eerie silence fell, even as the never-ceasing patter of raindrops and the distant growl of thunder continued. Santana was alone and monumentally screwed.