Very important chapter here. Santana's having a heart to heart with her father, after her first fight with Brittany.

After that, she tries to find her.

Keep sending me your questions and suggestions - I love to read them! xx


Day Nineteen.

The warm, cosy house of my parents is located just outside of town. I haven't been here in weeks and I missed it. Me and my mother usually meet for a coffee at the mall, so we can combine quality time with shopping. Always practical, my mom. And every time I need to see my father, I just drop by at his practice downtown. He's hardly ever home anyway.

It's late in the evening when the squeaking door lets me enter the living room. It smells like exotic food in here, it always does. But something weird is going on: my mom's dancing next to the couch where my father decided to relax for a second. She's all dressed up and awfully loud at this hour and when my inspecting eyes find the empty bottle of wine at the coffee table, it dawns that she's had one too many. My father seems to be enjoying the spectacle, though. He has an amused smile on his face that's soaked in love.

"Mija!" he shouts joyfully and my mother turns her head to face me.

She throws her hands up in the air and walks over to hug me. But her arms wrap around me so tightly that it kinda hurts. I groan and try to push her back a little.

"What are you doing here, Santana? I haven't seen your face in ages."

We've missed our weekly appointment this week. I can't really explain to her why that is, though. How do you tell your mother that you've been too busy fucking your girlfriend? A forced smile suppresses my worried face as I try to escape her tight embrace. She smells really bad - like she went swimming in a pool of alcohol, while wearing that awesome outfit. Kinda like Brittany, when she's been out for a couple of night in a row. Where the hell have my parents been?

"We went to a party at the Jefferson's. You're mom ... um."

My father tries to find the kindest of words. His tailored grey hair catches my attention, it looks so cute on him. He already jumped out of his suit to wrap himself in the cosiness of his pajamas.

"She had a good time with Mrs. Jefferson."

"I can tell."

My snarky response has nothing to do with the fact that she's drunk. My mother hardly ever drinks, so when she does and has one glass of alcohol, she's tipsy within a second. Let her have it. I walk over to my dad and peck him on the cheek. My mom tells me that I look too skinny and decides that it's an appropriate hour to cook some tacos. So she disappears through the kitchen door and leaves me alone with Papá. A soft smile manages to break through my depressed attitude.

"So that is how the future me looks like."

Papá, who hasn't been drinking at all, chuckles and pats the part next to him, but I refuse the offer and walk over to the stool in front of him. That little, soft thing has always been my favorite spot in the room.

"What's wrong, mija? You look sad. Did you and Jacob fight again?"

I shake my head and lower my head to get released from his worried look. He knows about the break up. Everybody knows about the break up. There has been nothing but talks about the break up. But they don't understand why I still live there. It's not like I own half of the house or something. My father doesn't judge, though. He never does - at least not out loud. But right now, I couldn't care less about him.

"It's not Jacob. It's Brittany."

I haven't told my father the truth yet. Not to anyone. Brittany's not ready for the impact a serious relationship might have on her life. And I'm not sure if I'm ready to tell my friends and family that I am in love with a girl just yet.

"What happened with Brittany? Is she okay?"

Good question. He likes her very much. He thinks she's the best friend I've ever had. She is. If only he knew that she was fucking me, that might chance his feeling about that.

"We had a fight. A massive, massive fight."

"About what?"

He has always been actively involved in my life and I love that about our bond. But I can't tell, even though I really want to. There's bending the truth, although I'm not sure he'll understand.

"We've been ... spending a lot of time lately, since Jacob and I split up. And now ... she feels like I'm smothering her."

At least I'm not lying to him. I'm just covering up the entire truth a little bit.

"Well, mija, she has her own life. Maybe there is another person, a special someone, she needs to pay attention to."

I mischievously smile and crinkle my nose: "There isn't."

He sits up straight and kicks off his slippers. Then, he aims his eyes at me again.

"Brittany is a very sweet and wonderful friend. You know that I love her like my own daughter. And I can see that she makes you very happy by being so generous and kind to you. But you have to admit that's she's rather ... wild and restless. She's unpredictable and that's part of her personality. Without that, she's not the same person. You should respect that at give her the opportunity to be whoever she wants to be. If she needs some time away from you, that might not be the worst thing in the world."

His words make me think. Maybe it's true. Maybe it makes sense. I do spend every free second I have with her. Apart from school and the last hours of the day that I spend at Jacob's before he falls asleep, I'm always at her place. Always. We don't go out, because as soon as we see each other, we end up kissing or pulling off each other's clothes. So basically, she has no way of letting her wild side out anymore. I did steal her carefree existence, when I think about it. She never had to care about a single person, and suddenly there's me: absorbing every bit of energy and claiming all her free time because I've happened to develop feelings for her. But how can she be with me and still go out and flirt with all the girls that are around? That's not acceptable, is it? She has always lived that life, I get that. But she needs to be my girlfriend now. She needs to commit. Suddenly, it hits me: she doesn't know that. And how can she understand something that she never had?

She ran out of the bedroom right after I called her a coward. That look in her eyes, it made me so angry. Like she was disgusted by what I just said to her. About everything. About us. It was our first fight ever. I even told her to go fuck herself when she walked out the door.

"Have you tried calling her already?" my father asks.

I don't bother answering him. What a ridiculous question! Of course I did. I've called her like a million times already. Brittany hasn't answered her phone a single time. It's been eight hours and I've searched in every place I know, but she's nowhere to be found. Papá slides to the edge of the couch, so his hand can stroke mine. I look up to him and nearly start to cry. I'm not ready to lose her. Why did I start the fight? Why did I fall in love with her to begin with? Why couldn't things have stayed the exact same way they were before?

"Relax, Santana. She's probably just hanging out with a friend. She'll call you when things cool down."

"You don't know that. I just ... I really need her to call me."

I'm practically panicking and that scares him. His little girl never gets this emotional over something. He knows the daughter he raised. I'm the notorious bitch that got kicked out of high school twice. Once because I started fighting and the second time I had to leave the school, it was for the best, because I almost got sued for slander by a teacher. I might have insulted the guy one too many times, thinking about it. But he had it coming, that perv. No, he can tell that something's up, because Santana Lopez doesn't normally care about little fights and discussions.

He smirks and says something that scares me to my core: "If I didn't know any better, I'd start to think that you're in love with her or something."

My entire body freezes and he notices. The look in his eyes changes and all of a sudden, it hits him: she's not just a friend to me. I'm too ashamed to look him in the eye. He organizes his thoughts and thinks about all the things that changed the last couple of weeks. I broke up with Jacob, but I haven't told anyone why. I spend every waking hour with Brittany instead of coming home. I'm mad at her because she thinks I'm smothering her. I'm this upset because I don't want her to go out and continue her ladykiller experiments.

He knows. Deep down, he knows. I've never been this anxious before. My father knows that I'm in love with a girl and I'm so terrified that I can't even breathe anymore. At the same time, there's nothing in my reaction, not an annoyed or rejecting twitch that's so typical for me, that even tries to deny what he just said. Seconds pass and not one of us says a word. We just sit there and process. I swallow hard and make sure my eyes keep staring at the carpet underneath my feet. My body's curled up, wishing I could just disappear. I'm too afraid to look up and face him.

My mother re-enters the room with a plate full of fresh, hot tacos. She's being extremely loud again and sings along to one of her favorite songs that's playing on loop inside her of her head. The tension is as plain as clear day-light, but she's too tipsy to notice.

"Here you go. Food! Grab one and tell me how delicious they are."

She puts the plate on the coffee table and gleams. A tear comes rolling down my cheek and I quickly wipe it away, so she won't see. My father notices and softly squeezes the hand that's still feeling his touch. My lungs inhale the deepest breath they ever took and it helps fighting back the rest of my tears. Out of nowhere, my phone starts beeping, which finally triggers a reaction. I get it out of my back pocket and look at the screen to find one of my friend's name.

Quinn (22h46):

'I'm at Fiesta. Brittany's here, too. Why aren't you with your twin? xxx'

My heart skips a beat. Finally, I know where she is. I get up on my feet and release my father's touch. The phone disappears in my back pocket again, while I come up with an excuse to leave. Lying to my parents to sneak out to go to a party is like my second nature, so it comes in handy.

"I'm sorry, Mami, I need to go. Quinn needs my help."

"Is she alright? Does she want some tacos?"

She's quite adorable when tipsy, really. My father realizes what's going on and shakes his head: "I don't think she does, darling. I'll take one. Just say goodbye to your daughter."

It sounds symbolic. Like she should say goodbye to the Santana she has known since I was born. I know he is.

"Can I call you in the morning?" he asks me after a couple of seconds. By now I have made it to the door. A hesitant jabber takes over, but I finally look at him and see the concerned look on his face. I nod and tell my parents that I love them both. My father's nose twitches and his eyes become extremely glassy. Are there tears filling up his eyes?

"I love you, too, Santana. I always will, no matter what. You remember that, okay?"

"Me too!" my mom shrieks, full of excitement.

I smile softly and grab the doorknob. I wish I didn't have to leave.


"Where is she?"

My hand grabs Quinn's shoulder to turn her around and face me. She's surprised and blinks a couple of times before she realizes it's me. I don't even have the decency greet her. Or Rachel, who's standing beside her. I don't really care about the latter, though. Rachel is better off thinking that I don't like her, because, honestly, about eighty percent of the time, I really don't. She gently smiles at me and slurps her drink. She's always hanging around Quinn and it's annoying. She's annoying. And she thinks I'm rude and selfish. Quinn's not that surprised by my current behavior, though. I can get pretty dominant, especially when it involves Brittany. That's how it's always been, ever since we met.

"Good evening, too, Santana Lopez. How about a hug?"

Her breath smells like martinis. She opens up her arms to put them around me, but I push them back irritated. She wipes the loose, blonde hairs away from her forehead and frowns.

"What's up with you? You're being even bitchier than on a regular monday."

I hate mondays - Quinn's aware of that. And she's not afraid to tell me to my face.

"Where is she?" I urge.

She's so confused that she's no longer interrogating me. She simply lifts her hands and points in the direction of the dancefloor. Like I would be talking about anybody else than Brittany. That's when I see her, fifteen feet away from me. She's dancing in the middle of the room, surrounded by a group of girls. Typical. My face freezes. Her body, covered in pink shorts and a top that's hardly bigger than her bra, is showing off flirtatious dance moves that can only mean one thing: Brittany's drunk. She's awfully drunk, I can tell. That's how she deals with issues: she drinks until she can't remember their existence. I don't say a word, I just watch her as one particular girl grinds her back against Brittany's chest, who is too drunk to have a clue what's happening. The fact that she can still dance with those high heels on is remarkable. The sight makes my blood boil. I'm about to go all Lima Heights on that girl's ass!

"She's on fire tonight." Rachel informs me straight forwardly while carefully holding on to the glass of water Quinn probably ordered for her. "Even though I don't support the lack of dignity she seems to possess and the fact that she practically insults every argument feminists have ever made since the late 1800s by throwing herself at that group of willingly, sex-craving girls, I must say that's she very good at it. That ginger girl over there is practically undressing herself, in front of all the others."

"Shut it, Hobbit." I growl at her.

Quinn quickly sorts me out, but minimizes the risks of me further insulting her friend by telling Rachel to shut up.

"Why are you dressed like that, Santana? You do realize that this is the hottest bar in town, right?" she asks me.

I know what I'm wearing: a white top, some casual jeans and knee-high boots. My hair's a mess and I'm not even wearing that much make-up. But I'm not concerned at all.

"I look like I just got out of bed and still manage to look ten times as hot as Rachel, so I can live with that." I mumble.

Neither of them bothers to even comment on that. They know I'm right. I walk away from them and make my way over to Brittany. We really need to talk. Just when I'm almost close enough to tap her on the shoulder, the girl in front of her surprises me by turning around and kissing her on the mouth shamelessly. My body backs away from what's happening and my heart skips a beat.

What the fuck is happening here?

Brittany doesn't push her away, though. She lets the redhead kiss her like there's absolutely no reason why that should be a problem. As soon as my mind and heart have recovered from what I just witnessed, my feet take the final steps to reach her. I push the carrot top away from my best friend and aim my flaming eyes at her.

"Get the hell off of her or I'll kill you with my bare hands."

I'm pretty sure that's not a lie. Brittany, suddenly snapping out of her drunk high, gapes at me with an expression I've never seen before. She did not expect me here, that's obvious. But I don't allow her a chance to say something by shoving her, but not enough to hurt her. I would never really hurt her. This is just some old-fashioned shock therapy.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Nothing that should interest you." is her numb, yet slightly pissed off reaction.

My jaw drops and there's absolutely nothing I can think of in order to reply. I'm not sure if she's realizing that it's me who's standing in front of her. Not a single person on this earth would dare to speak to me this way.

"Come with me." I eventually order her.

My pinching grip drags her out of the bar. We pass Quinn and Rachel, who stop having a good time the minute they discover the storm that has taken over my already angry face from before. They call out our names, but I ignore them. I swear to God, if that Israeli dwarf would have said another thing to me, I would've slapped her.

"Brittany, what the hell?" I shout at her as soon as we are outside.

It's cold but I don't care. I just want to know why she just let that girl kiss her. I'm raging, I'm furious. My hands slightly shove her again, because I'm so very mad at her. I want to punch her in the face, actually, and I feel bad about even thinking about that. I wish the hobbit was here, she's be an excellent punching bag.

"What?" she asks me, while putting her hands up in the air like there's nothing going on.

"You made it pretty sure that you disagreed with me this morning. So I just go back to living my old life again now, don't I?"

I'm confused and frown deeply.

"What are you talking about?"

She walks over to me, while pointing her index finger at my face.

"You told me to go fuck myself."

She's angry at me. She's angry at me for telling her that. I sigh angrily and slap her accusatory finger away from me.

"We didn't break up, Brittany. We had a fight. We argued. It's what people do when they are involved with each other. I got mad, you got mad. I yelled, you ... well, you didn't yell, but that's irrelevant. I told you to fuck off, you ran out. That's how it works."

She shuts up and thinks about my sentence for a while.

"And then what?" she asks with a small part of arrogance in her voice.

"And then we make up and have awesome make-up sex, duh."

She twitches her head and pouts.

"Really? That's how it works?"

It's genuine surprise that escapes her mouth. I take a deep breath and bite my lower lip with frustration because I can't help but finding all of this cute. She's impossible, but at least I get it now: I'm the manual for once. She hasn't got a clue. She has no clue how this works. That fact is so fascinating that it takes away every angry feeling inside of me. Dammit, Brittany!

"Yeah." I sigh. "That's how it works, silly. So basically, you just cheated on me."

She hears the word coming from my mouth and puts her hands together like she's about to pray or beg ... or dive into a pool, really.

"Oh, God. I'm so sorry, Santana. I'm really - really sorry! I never wanted you to feel like I cheated on you. I thought you never wanted to see me again after we argued so I just ... I thought you dumped me. I've never been dumped. I don't know how these things go - how I'm supposed to behave."

She's a lot more sober right now. Like our second fight of the day did the trick.

"Apparently." I snarl, but her cuteness makes me cave in. "Now, just shut up and kiss me."

"What?"

I grab her by the neck and pull her close to me. Our lips touch and she's too surprised to put her arms around me. We kiss hard and long, and for a minute, it feel like the world is spinning around us. We are in the middle of an abandoned market place and yes, it's in the open air - so, yes, people can see us being all heated up and passionate, but I couldn't care less. I just need to kiss her. I need to feel her warm tongue firmly in my mouth, playing with mine. We part and our foreheads lean against one another.

"I'm so sorry, Santana."

I know she's telling the truth. There was not a single part of her that thought she was doing something wrong. This girl's going to be a lot of work to be with. But she's so worth it. She's my best friend. The most beautiful and smartest person I ever met.

"Why are we fighting? Why didn't you tell me that I was smothering you? I would've been more careful about that."

She shakes her head and pants inches away from me. It's so damn cold out here.

"It's okay. I'm just scared. I'm so very scared about all of it."

I don't get it. I need her to tell me. She always tells me everything.

"What are you so afraid of?"

The blur in her head is fading away. But I can see she's struggling to formulate what's going through her mind. Her body steps away from me and turns around to face the empty sky.

"Suddenly I have feelings, Santana. I never had feelings - I don't need feelings."

She stamps her foot to the ground and pouts again.

"Make them go away."

She's acting like a little kid. An adorable, little kid. It's her awkward way of telling me that she thinks she loves me. But her body makes a drastic turn and walks over to me again.

"I guess we can try this." she carefully utters. "We can, like, be a couple or something. I can try if you want me to. I'd do that for you. I would do anything for you, I think."

So freaking adorable, the way she tells me that's she's up for the challenge. It's absurd how scary this whole idea of being seriously involved with somebody is to her ... But the most important part is: she wants to be with me. Her fingers are touching mine and she wants to be with me. I smile and walk with her to the car that's waiting for her. She always has a chauffeur when she's out to party. Being rich kind of is an awesome thing, really. A lot of times, a limousine takes us to wherever we want to go. We get in and I can't stop staring at her. The car is taking us further and further away out of town, but I don't care. For all I know, she's leading us to the edge of a cliff, where a massive colony of giant snakes is having us for dinner and the devil himself has his invitation to enter hell ready for us, but that would be okay because our fingers are entwined and she just told me she wanted to be with me.