"Santana, do you see my salient point here?" Quinn stresses every word, with the back of her hand slamming the other. "Puck told me he would show off a videogame – he never told me it was Pinball. It's not even a modified version of Pinball, like it would be on Wii or something. It was just on his freaking laptop, like we were ten-year-old kids feeling badasses owning up Windows."

She shoves a mouthful of strawberry ice cream to her mouth after speaking. Not the usual classy Quinn, but she's in a situation.

"And then you know what I said?" Puck points his bottle of beer at me after taking a chug. "I asked her, 'this looks lame. Wanna make out?'"

I was looking at them sideways, uncomfortably. We were by in my apartment, on my couch. I was at the middle of it all, acting as the great wall barricading the tension between the two people I consider my closest friends.

"God, he feels like he's got so much game! He was so very lame!"

"We kissed, though!"

"You did?!"

"It was a mistake!" Quinn insists with her whiny voice. I thought it was annoying. That voice would always be annoying.

"Yes, Santana! Quinn and I kissed," Puck announced smugly, as if I was his dad. He was even holding out his fist for me to bump with mine. I didn't.

I ran a hand through my hair. "I feel like these conversations you two are trying to engage me to should happen independently, you know what I mean? Like, when the subject matter isn't present?"

"Dude, I swung by the convenience store to have us some beer and chips. You're my lesbro. I should be able to talk to you about things like this."

"S, you are the closest person to me that is akin as a best friend. I feel like vomiting if I ever labeled us best friends. We talked about that, right? But the point is, I brought two tubs of ice cream so I could properly vent out to you."

"I know. I know that," I say as I raise both of my hands picking up the bottle of beer and the tub of ice cream. I put it down and gave each of them a pointed look. "But, Jesus fuck, if you want to date each other, just fucking date each other already. Don't make something complicated when it really isn't."

"The thing is, it kind of is," Quinn says like she doesn't want to say it. "I'm sorry I, or we, ambushed you."

"It just sucks you're our only friend," Puck shakes his head laughingly. "The most legit one, that is."

"Man, we really are losers together," I say with a little chuckle of my own. "We got it bad."

Quinn rested her head on my shoulder as I pulled Puck by the ear so he could do the same gesture. In this manner, we were somehow in a restricted three-way hug.

"Isn't that what people say?" I wondered aloud, "A relationship is stronger if it was built on friendship?"

"Bullshit. A relationship will only last if you practice sexual activities regularly," Puck counters and I can feel him smirk against my shoulder.

"Oh, shut up, Puck. I'm trying to make a point here," I brush off his inevitable profanity. I felt Quinn shake with a giggle by my side. "Before there was Pinntana Colada, there was Nocy Liu first."

"I got the Pinntana Colada part. It's the three of us, correct? Puck plus Quinn plus Santana." Puck pulls away from my shoulder, confused. "But what the fuck is a Nocy?"

"A bad combination of our real names," Quinn answers for me, "Noah and Lucy."

"What? It's impromptu," I shrugged defensively.

They sighed dolefully in unison. By this time, both of my friends weren't leaning on me anymore. I was pretty sure their stolen glances with each other were laced with so many questions.

"The kiss was nice," Quinn admits quietly.

"Yeah, it was – until you pulled away," Puck tells him with remorse in his tone. "I really, really like you, Quinn. I hope that part is clear by now."

"I know. And I do, too, even if you're so obscene sometimes."

"Goddamn it," I mutter exasperatedly. "Now that both of your feelings are out in the open already, which are apparently mutual, what the fuck are you waiting for?"

"Quinn," Puck states simply.

The only blonde in our trio shots him a look. She runs her hand through her golden locks. "I just don't think it's right – yet. I don't know. Fuck, let's talk about something else. I don't like this."

We gave each other tentative looks to test Quinn's suggestion. I'm so down with that, given that they are both making me feel very uncomfortable. I obviously want to serve my purpose of being a good friend, but when there's too much tension in one room it almost chokes me – I can't function properly.

When Quinn chugged down Puck's beer and Puck took a spoonful of Quinn's ice cream, I thought their present issue were temporarily set aside for now. I took that as a signal of truce. I get the impression Puck not wanting to push Quinn to something she isn't sure yet, and Quinn asking for more time to mull it over.

"Santana, tell something so we could conceal the awkward," Puck instructs me mutedly.

I ignored him because there was a reply from Brittany.

Brittany S. Pierce: Penguins are monogamous, S. They are very exemplary for the humankind. Could be effortful to maintain, but I'm sure they'll be worth it.

I stifled a laugh. I really did, because I don't want Quinn and Puck looking at me weirdly.

Currently, Brittany and I are discussing my seemingly permanent pet peeve towards any pet. She said she finds it odd, so she's enumerating different animals that could fall to my liking. She hasn't succeeded to find any yet.

I replied: Swans are monogamous too. Penguins walk funny, B.

Apparently, stifling a laugh won't be enough. I forgot to deflect my phone from my snoopy squad.

"Who's B?" Puck questions easily to neither me nor Quinn.

"Why is there a mention of monogamy? Are you settling down?" Quinn asks incredulously.

"Well, shit," I say, and they were giving me very expectant looks. So I explained, "It's Brittany."

"Who?"

"The one with the douchebag groom?"

"That would be accurate, Quinn."

"Oh, her," Puck nods in understanding. He frowns, "You're at her?"

"What does that even mean?" I said with a scrunched nose. I told them how we met at Cup-A-Cabana after the Tomahawk chase incident; I didn't tell them, however, that Brittany and I have been texting since then. I mean, it's only been a day – no big deal about that, right?

"So you are at her," Puck affirms his own assumption. "That's how you keep the ball rolling, yeah? You met once, then you talk, then you go out some more. Can't blame ya, she's hot."

"Santana's getting a girlfriend!" Quinn sing-songs in her high-pitched voice. Man, all of her voices sound annoying to me.

"Don't even," I say irately. "When you got up here, did you come across my exes? Don't even start with the word 'girlfriend' to me. I'm kind of scarred with the relationship thing."

"Oh, yeah, I did. They were very polite, which is new for Yvette, and I said small niceties to them. You have an array of exes I must say."

My phone vibrated once again.

Brittany Pierce: I just don't get it. Pets are very much lovable. I'm not giving up on you, though. What about dolphins? They. will. suit. you. perfectly. (I think.)

"Sure, you go talk about relationship and stuff," Puck speaks, "But if that goofy grin plastered on your face is not a sign of your infatuation with this Brittany girl, I don't know what else is."

I punched his arm with that verbal jab as I typed in my reply. Are you implying I'm big as a dolphin?

Quinn then queries, "Did you even tell her about her supposedly hit life story?"

I told them I did and that Brittany was in fact very cool about it. "I think you owe her an apology, though."

"I was just doing my job," Puck says with a frown. Quinn seconds his statement.

"Oh, whatever, you arrogant beings. I know it was never posted and shit, but we did spy on her, right? At least have some human decency."

"I mostly spied on Sam, though," the ever-so-witty blonde says. "If Brittany deserves some human decency, then so does he – which is actually kind of bullshit if you think about it because he had the least human decency towards Brittany. But we're out of their chaos. Whatever strain they managed to bring upon themselves does not concern us. So, you asking us to apologize to Brittany also mean apologizing to Sam."

Puck scoffs. "I see what you're trying to mean, Quinn. But I don't. C'mon now, do you really think we should be sorry for ever hinting someone her future better half would be disloyal? Not a lot of people get that advantage nowadays. Hell, no one does."

"Fine," I say. "But by the moment you meet her, I'm sure you will feel so much shame about the way we fend for ourselves. I did."

"We're meeting her soon? We're at this stage already?"

"I get it – it's a matter of her liking us and us liking her, no? You are definitely a goner, Santana."

"I wasn't even implying that!"

Quinn and Puck shared knowing glances, chuckled to themselves, and told me a sarcastic sure.

In this moment, when Puck and Quinn acted like they didn't have pent-up feelings for each other, as if everything's fine, and the spotlight was being shone towards me, I decided just play along, however reluctantly.

It's a good evening with my friends, I'm texting Brittany, and I'm not going to spoil both just because I refuse to admit I am a goner.

"You are the unicorn, Britt."

She had said that to me yesterday and it still left me feeling giddy in the insides today. I asked her then: you know unicorns are magical, right? She shrugged and said, you kind of are, as if it is the most obvious thing to declare.

I just smiled. I'm still smiling now.

Santana Lopez: Are you implying I'm big as a dolphin?

I snorted because I could totally imagine how scrunchy her face gets when she makes digs like this. Plus, her body is not, in any way, resembling that of a dolphin's. She's really…well, um, fit.

I replied: No, not at all. Dolphins are just gay sharks, S. And I'm sure they love their trainers very much.

Santana and I haven't known each other for a long time, but I think I've watched her close enough to afford personal presumptions such as the scrunchy face. I mean, I like paying attention to her face. After she made the unicorn compliment to me, I was just mostly watching her, and she was watching me. We were just kind of looking at each other. She is so pretty. And her skin always appeared divine. I wonder how she manages to look so stunning without trying so hard. Maybe I'll ask her some time.

"Talking About Feelings: Session Seven," Sugar cheers as she throws her body to my bed, face front.

Tina was following after her, two bowls of chips anchored by her arms. "Prepositions: It Marks the Difference."

I momentarily looked away from my phone to shoot her a questioning look. "Am I in English class?"

"You are not, Brittany," Tina answers as she flops down next to Sugar and I. "This is, once again, the borderline discussion between love and in love.

"You see, Brittany, I am in love with Mike."

"And I love you," Sugar supplements in with a cheeky smile. "See the difference?"

"I love you too?" I answered tentatively because I still don't get it.

"Now that's where it gets messy, isn't it? People often mistake 'I love you' as a question rather than a statement," Tina ventures like a friggin' love expert of some sort. I've seen this persona in all of our previous sessions of talking about feelings. "More frequently than not, we expect a ditto from an I-L-Y. The thing is: We don't have a say on that. We really don't.

"Now, I'm going to ask you, Britt: Were you ever really in love with Sam?"

I don't like it when Sam gets brought up, but Sugar and Tina keep insisting that I should face him – or the thought of him, at least. I deem their question to be difficult. I chewed on my lip because I was contemplating. While in the process of it, I felt my phone vibrate against my hand. I saw that Tina and Sugar were giving me the time to produce a definite answer to that confusing question, so I went on to shamelessly read Santana's text: You are right, Brittany. I am very gay and very shark.

I practically chortled.

"That laugh is not a sarcastic one," Sugar notes. "It's a genuine laugh, Britt. What was so funny with the question? Did you finally realize you're sibs with Sam?"

"No," I said with fit of giggles. "It's…it's Santana."

Tina gave me an inquisitive look. Sugar lifted her hands to her mouth in what I suppose was delighted surprise.

"Santana?" They asked at the same time, in united fake-innocence.

"Yes, the one whom I was with yesterday," I say. Sugar had made it to breakfast yesterday, and Tina was already in Cup-A-Cabana, and all of our paths had crossed. "You guys met, remember?"

"Barely," Tina brushes it off. However, Sugar was always happy to boast. "I did! I took pictures with her! I was momentarily a Twitter famous because of our picture together."

"It's too bad Cup-A-Cabana was so packed I had to help Mike," Tina adds with a hint of regret. "What's she like?"

I wanted to tell her how awesome Santana is, but Sugar beat me to it.

"She was so pretty!" She gushes. Like I don't know, I internally rolled my eyes. "I've always followed her blog, which is both mean and funny, and I actually thought she would be just like that in real life. She wasn't."

"Really now? How did she and Brittany know each other then?"

"Oh," Sugar's enthusiasm falls, "That I forgot to ask. I was so busy building-up my upcoming party, Sugar Shack, because I wanted her there, and, well, I kind of forgot to ask her the important questions."

"Besides the fact she's this hotshot blogger, who is this Santana?"

I clapped my hands at once, my phone briefly abandoned. "I'm so glad you asked, Tina! I was waiting for this moment!"

They looked at me curiously, so I went on to explain my excitement.

"Santana is my saving grace," I began. "After running away from my own wedding, I went to a bar to drown away all those ugly feelings I was feeling. Kind of drunk, I met two hooligans – well, not exactly hooligans, but they were very rude, so there's that. Anyway, as these two hooligans cornered me, and as I was losing the will to fight, Santana rescued me."

"How come we knew this just now?" Tina insisted, always looking out for me.

"Nobody really asked," I shrugged. "It's over, though. I'm fine," I assured them quickly. I then continued to tell tales of mine and Santana's expedition together. I caught the feeling of wanting to see her again only because of talking about her.

It appeared like Sugar and Tina were really not expecting these details from me. They were both intrigued and fascinated as they listened in to my story. The question of me being in love with Sam was long-forgotten.

"That toothbrush thing was so cute," Sugar muses. "She sounds really nice."

"Yeah, she does – overlooking the part when she attempted to humiliate you about your wedding story and make profit out of it."

"You're such a downer, T," Sugar snatches up a handful of chips and feeds it to her mouth. Muffled, she speaks, "I've never seen Britt smile like that in the past weeks, and I'm not taking away that from her just because I don't approve of her prospect admirer. And I do, Britt. I like Santana," she adds.

I was looking at Tina inquisitively. I was wondering where the sudden dismissal came from. I see her tracing unrecognizable patterns at the fabric of her pajamas, refusing eye contact.

"I'm just worried," she mumbles. "You know you're getting better, Britt. I know it, too. But I've seen you when you slapped Sam, when you cried, when you ran. I see things different from your perspective because I'm not you; I'm your friend, Britt. I can't help but to worry. I guess what I'm really trying to say is that I'm gradually getting the answer whether you were in love with Sam or weren't."

"What?" I breathed with a tinge of increasing irritation. "How does talking about Santana relate to Sam? If you haven't noticed, I'm having a hard time explaining what I truly felt for Sam. It's not easy, okay?"

"Never in our friendship have you ever talked about Sam like you're talking about Santana now."

My heart took pace. I was feeling uneasy. I felt cornered, and not in a rude, we're-just-fishing-for-fun-kind-of-cornered.

"Slow down, you guys," I say cautiously. "Santana is not a 'prospect admirer.' We're friends, I think, and it's only that. Just because I've met new people does not mean I want to date them immediately. You're both being too much right now."

My only friends were looking at each other and at the walls of my room awkwardly. I know someone between them is going to say something, but my phone rang and kept them quiet.

My eyebrows turned up as I read the name of the caller, but I decided to contain my giddy.

"I'll talk about feelings when I'm ready," I say to both of them and excused myself.

I went out to my terrace, and despite the unexpected confrontation just now, a smile was creeping up to my lips. I felt the wind kiss my face, and slightly disgruntle my hair. It's good I was wearing my PJs and pullover sweater since it was a chilly night.

"Santana," I say, "Hi."

"Brittany, hey," she says in greeting, though she sounded unsure. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, I guess?" I drawled the last word out. "Why'd you call? Is everything okay?"

"Everything's okay, Britt," she tells me and I hear voices in the background, like hollers of amusement. "My friends just dared me to call you. I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"No, no, you're not. You interrupted just right," I say but didn't really elaborate. Yet again, Santana comes in at the right timing. "Dolphins," I then offered happily.

I hear her chuckling as the hollers in the background fades. "Yeah, as I've said, I'm very gay and very shark. However, it concerns me how so high-maintenance they are, and I'm sure you need so many permits from the government, ecological, and animal institutes to lawfully own one."

I pouted. "You always have a way of turning down all of my suggestions, don't you?"

"Hm," I could imagine her contemplating, "if it's any consolation, I dislike your ducks the least."

"What about my cat?"

"I haven't seen it yet."

"Him," I promptly corrected her. "You have to meet him!"

There was a two-second pause of heavy deliberation. "I do not resent nor embrace the idea," she finally declares.

I chuckled. "Okay, Santana. I will arrange this momentous meeting as soon as LT is free."

"LT?"

"Lord Tubbington."

"I'm still neutral," she says.

I sighed with a smile. I like how conversations with Santana are so easy-flowing.

"What did I interrupt?" She asks. "I know something was up before I called."

"How so?"

"You sounded so relieved when you answered. I have never heard someone to be that happy to respond to a call, especially one from me."

I turned and saw Tina and Sugar watching me through the glass door separating us. They were watching me, and they looked away when I caught them. I turned away again.

"Well, uh, my friends are actually having a night over here at my house. We're having this thing where we talk about feelings – implicitly and openly."

"Jeez, sounds like a tough job," she comments.

"Yes. No. I mean, before…" I was supposed to say before Sam, but I bit my tongue. "Before, I was never pained when asked to tell what I feel. It just comes out naturally, and I'm sure that what I say reflects what was in my heart." I sigh. "But now…I'd do anything just to stall talking about feelings. It's exhausting."

"Aw, Britt," she speaks with such warmth that somehow comforts me. I didn't know I needed comforting. "You know you always have a choice. If these discussions of feelings are forced, you know you can always say no. Brittany, you had your life assumed until it was turned upside down. That fact alone is exhausting, and I think I can see why you want to keep to yourself at these times."

"I didn't mean that," I say. "I want to share my thoughts, I do, but, I don't know? – Maybe I want it in my own pace? I know they're looking out for me. I know they want to be aware of what's going on in my head, but heaven knows I need a break. It isn't even like I'm cooperating with Tina and Sugar in the past sessions, too, but they just don't give up on me."

"That's what friends do, B. They don't give up on one another."

"I know."

"So don't give up on them. They're going to worry about you. They're going to put up with you. And so do you. You have to understand that, more than ever, now is the time they have to seek for your comfort, when the fallout had already happened. Not only does it clear their conscience, but also because now is the time you need them the most." When Santana gives away her next words, I could imagine a disapproving frown on her face. "You all are so focused on Sam he's destroying your sisterhood, too."

I was quiet. I was annoyed one reckless person could ruin so many beautiful things.

"Talk to them, Britt," she suggests. "Not all of your feelings are solely directed to Sam. He strained a part of you and the relationships you have with the people around you, one way or another. And these people need to realize you don't only need to mend your self that was associated with Sam; you need to mend all of you."

If I was carrying a shelf of books on my shoulder, I felt like a row was taken out. Hearing Santana talk like this, I felt lighter. She didn't say she understood what I was going through, but she spoke like I'm okay, everything else is. She's so certain I'm starting to believe her, too.

"Okay," I nod as I feel myself agreeing with her. "I'll talk to them."

"Atta girl," she cheers, and I just had to chuckle at her enthusiasm.

"I'm so glad I met you, Santana," I told her in all earnestness.

"I am, too."

"It's also really nice to have you text and call me."

"Friends do that, B."

Yet again, I felt my feelings float. I smiled, "Awesome. Now I could proudly brag how we're friends. I was uncertain. Like earlier, I was talking to Tina and Sugar how we met and I just had to say 'Santana and I are friends, I think.' I mean, on my side I already consider you a friend, but on you – I wasn't sure about that."

"I have the same predicament. At least now we're clear."

"Dolphins."

"Dolphins," she echoes.

And we laughed for no reason.

"Is this our own version of the okay?-okay those kids with cancer do?"

"The Fault In Our Stars," I ventured. "I liked that book. It made me cry – both on paper and film."

"Sure," she says, and I could imagine her looking anywhere but me if we were in person.

I decided to tease her. "It made you sob, didn't it?"

"Whatever. I'm not telling you."

Santana is so cute. She's always achieving this badass leopard vibe around her (which she gets at times), but in fact all I can actually see is a cute puppy pretending to be a lion. This may be an animalistic comparison, but the point is: she's really cute.

"Friends don't keep things from one another?" I persisted.

"We're not yet on that stage," she retorts stiffly.

"Inform me when we are," I giggled.

"Sure, B." I could practically hear her eye-roll.

"So what's with the dare?"

"Oh, um, nothing, Britt. My friends were just being annoying. Forgive them."

"It's okay; I was just curious. You're having a night over, too?"

When Santana explained the situation with her friends, it was then that I realized affection could also be expressed through hateful words. She had said that Quinn is on a sexual drought, and so is Puck so they're both cranky motherfuckers. She informed me it was a nickname. Despite this, the concern she had for them was very evident. She had also said, in a quieter tone, that she hopes they'll end up fine – whether friends or more. In all honesty, this just adds to her cute-puppy-pretending-to-be-a-lion cuteness.

"Now that I have the time to think about it, them asking me to do this dare is more of my benefit than theirs. Me sitting with them, feeling uncomfortable is a thing; but them suffering solitude together is another. It must suck out there."

"Where are you now?"

"In my room."

I remembered how I had slept there, with all the great comforts I needed. I still feel grateful.

"Where are you?"

"Terrace."

And although we're apart, digital means the only avenue for our communication, I still felt connected to Santana in a higher note. In this moment, I did not dare question it, because maybe some things are just left be.

"I wish I could see you," she said, more like spilled out. As it was, she is quick to amend. "I mean, we should totally hangout soon."

"I know," is all I said because I do, and I understood.

"Great. In the meantime, you go give Tina and Sugar a talk. I didn't mean to hold you for too long."

"Okay. Thank you, Santana."

"Friends do this, remember? I'd put a winking emoji if we were texting," she adds.

I laugh, "I'd reply with the craughing emoji, then."

"I'll see you soon, Britt."

"I'll see you."