Chapter Eight – Saturday, 6 o'clock in the evening
I hate this job. I hate the people. I hate the customers. I hate everything.
I hate the fact that I haven't seen Brittany since last Saturday and I have no fucking clue why she hasn't come in. Is she embarrassed? Was she lying? Where the fuck was she?
I hate the fact that every time I heard the doors slide open, I look up. I hate the fact that I'm fucking looking for her. Every damn time those doors open.
Every time a blonde walks in, my heartbeat accelerates to an impossible rate and I open my mouth to say something until I notice it's not my blonde. Where were the long legs, the pale skin, and those blue eyes?
None of the blondes were her.
"What's wrong with you?" Puck muttered, punching out.
"Nothing."
"Sure."
"Puck…"
"Fine. I'll leave it alone. See you tomorrow," he said, waving and heading out the door.
Sometimes he wasn't all that bad.
My mood over the night remained constant. I was bitter. I expected her to show up any minute.
Didn't she owe me that? She comes in here, drunk off her ass and tells me she likes me? Only to never be seen again?
What the fuck is that bullshit?
My hands shook with rage and I ripped a sale sign in half. "Shit!" I cursed, throwing it on the floor.
A head whipped in my direction and I looked up to see a red-head around my age. "Sorry," I muttered, looking away.
She gave me a small smile. "You're fine." She looked back at the face cleansers and I took the opportunity to look at her.
She was gorgeous. And Santana fucking Lopez did not waste time mourning over a girl who declares her love—well, I guess like is the more appropriate word—and not show up… at all.
No, sir. Santana Lopez was a flirt and flirting is just what I was going to do.
"You need help finding anything?" I asked, standing up and facing her.
She frowned. "Maybe. I used to use this stuff," she started, holding up the Neutrogena Pink Grapefruit acne wash. "But it irritates my skin now. Do you have any suggestions?"
"Well, I'm not skin doctor. But I'll see what I can do." I moved to stand next to her, our arms were inches apart.
She laughed and looked expectantly at me.
And her eyes were green, not the blue I was craving.
I shook the thought out of my head. "First of all, your skin is gorgeous, so—"
"Thank you," she grinned.
I returned the smile. "I use Clean and Clear, sometimes Clearasil. It depends."
"Well, your skin is beautiful so I'm sure you just made a valid suggestion."
I smirked and grabbed the acne wash off the shelf, handing it to her. I let our fingers brush. "Here, try it. If you don't like it, you can always return it. Just keep the receipt."
She nodded and her eyes dipped down to my cleavage before locking onto mine. I smirked, knowing I had her.
"I'm Santana." I held out my hand.
"Clearly." She nodded to my name tag and I shrugged. Sometimes, I forget about it. "But I'm Heather."
"Nice to meet you. You come here often?"
"Apparently not often enough," she smirked.
I grinned. In. The. Fucking. Bag. "I get off at ten tonight. You want to meet up? I know this club we can get into?"
"How old are you, babe?"
Babe. Totally getting into the sentiments already. "Nineteen."
She took a couple steps back. "Whoa."
"What?" I asked, my voice cracking. Shit, was this girl underage? She didn't even look underage. She couldn't be.
"You're younger than I thought," she muttered, setting the cleanser back on the shelf.
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-six."
"So?" I shrieked. Why was she doing this to me? I needed a rebound. I needed one badly.
She froze and stared at me. "I don't do seven years younger. I'm sorry."
I watched her walk out, the doors sliding closed behind her. "Fuck!" I let rip out of my throat. Why the fuck does this always fucking happen to me?
"Santana!" Quinn rounded the corner, angry eyes on me.
Well, fuck.
"What?" I muttered, looking at the floor.
"I don't care how mad you are. You cannot under any circumstances yell that out loud. What if a customer was around?"
"I don't give a fuck," I hissed, feeling my eyes grow wet.
Her face softened and she took a step closer to me. "What's wrong, San?"
"What the fuck do you think?"
I bit my tongue, realizing my mistake. Rule number one in a friendship with Quinn Fabray: don't take your problems out on her. I watched her eyes harden and her jaw set. A literal gulp went down my throat before she spoke again.
"No need to bite my head off. I'm guessing this is about Brittany not coming in?"
I nodded, not trusting my voice. It'll be just my luck to snap at her again. Knowing her, she'd hit me across the face.
And I can't have this beautiful face getting damaged.
She grabbed my hand and released a lungful of air. "I saw her on Monday."
"Where?" I asked, confused. Quinn lives a half hour away from here. Where the hell could she have been to see Brittany who I thought lived pretty close?
Quinn's eyes softened even more, if that was possible. "Here. She came in for tampons."
I froze. She came in on Monday. A day she knows I never work.
She was avoiding me.
I could feel myself crumpling, breaking down. The tears threatened to fall.
Was I being pathetic? A Rite Aid customer that I've met a handful of times was making me this upset. Pathetic.
But can you blame me? We connected instantly. It was like seeing a best friend after a couple of months but nothing had changed. We picked up from the moment we had said goodbye.
It doesn't help that Quinn is pretty much my only friend. I'm not good at meeting new people. It makes me panic. And it's not like I can hog Quinn all to myself. Sam would get pissed. I'm pretty sure he hates me enough.
And you can't blame me for being instantly attracted to Brittany. She was fucking attractive and I have a thing for blondes. I can't help that.
I guess you can blame me for falling head over heels for her, though. I got my hopes up too fast. Especially after she said she had a crush on me. That's all I was thinking about Saturday night. And then the images and thoughts just fell into place.
When Tuesday rolled around and I didn't see her, I was confused. But Quinn just cleared that up.
Quinn's hand brushed against my cheek. I hadn't even realized I was crying. My bottom lip trembled. I looked at Quinn, hoping she could stop this inner torment raging in my head.
"San," Quinn murmured, pulling me into a hug. I crashed against her, burying my face in the crook of her neck. Her fingers danced over my back as she made soft shushing noises in my ear.
I listened to her heartbeat, the slow steady beat driving away my sorrow. It pumped loudly in my ear. I felt more than heard her swallow and my ear tracked the sound down to her stomach. Her hand stilled on my back, moving up to my hair. She leaned back when I grew quiet and brushed the hair away from my face.
"You okay?"
I looked at her, my expression blank.
"Yeah, stupid question." She sighed and took my hand in hers. "Take a bathroom break. Get her off your mind. I'll help you with the signs if you can help me in the back when you can."
My heart swelled. This is why I loved Quinn. She knew me better than anybody else.
I looked up at her and nodded. "Deal."
A/N: Didn't even realize I named the girl Heather until just now. Coincidencessssssss.
