Chapter 9 : Elephants in the Room

Before the three of us got out of the car, Santana asked if we could wait to mention Karofsky. She said she didn't want to ruin dinner. I was fine with whatever she wanted to do and a little grateful. I didn't want to explain what had happened either. If I hadn't been able to explain it to Santana, then I wouldn't even be able to begin explaining it to the rest of the girls.

"Saying something right now would make it worse. I don't need everyone shoving their opinions down my throat." Santana shut her car door. Slammed it. She had sat in the back. I think it was so she could look through her phone without so obviously ignoring Mercedes and so she could have space to think.

"I don't know about that, Santana," Mercedes responded. We were walking through the parking lot. "It could have been any one of us that talked to him or might end up talking to him. Maybe it's best if we get it all figured out now. The girls will have your back."

That was true, they would. And what if he goes to work and talks to Tina and she didn't know Santana didn't like him? Tina was coming, right? I hadn't had a chance to think about inviting her or asking to make sure one of the girls had invited her to dinner. I spun around and looked through the parking lot, but there were way too many cars to even begin finding hers.

"But it wasn't just anyone," Santana hissed, lowering her voice.

I looked from scanning the cars back to Santana. The way her voice had snapped startled me. She sounded frustrated and I knew part of it had to do with me. I wasn't making it any easier for her. She would never admit that, but it was obvious. So if she asked me what Karofsky said again, I would tell her everything. That was the least I could do.

"I understand," Mercedes pulled open the door for us, "but what if he's sitting outside the house when we get back?"

Santana didn't respond. Maybe I should say something. So I did. "I don't think he will be. When I told him other people were coming, he left." The more I thought about it, the more Karofsky reminded me of me. Not in the scary way, but in the overreacting way. "He got angry and then he realized what he was doing and so he left." I nodded to myself, forcing my brain to make that make sense. It did, but it felt a little too easy. Easy was good though.

"There's probably a little more to it than that." Mercedes followed us in.

I shrugged. "He left when I said other people were coming. He wouldn't wait for us all to come back to the house."

Santana nodded and for the first time in a long time, something I had said comforted her. It was frustrating that I hadn't been able to do that earlier. She didn't need to take care of me in a situation where someone was trying to be mean to her. I cringed and then promised myself I would never react like I had again. I had a horrible habit of reacting without thinking.

"We have reservations," Mercedes said to the hostess. It was the same hostess that had been here when I was waiting for Quinn to show up for the lunch she had missed.

I turned to Santana. I needed to apologize and I needed to let her know that I wasn't a burden. "He said something that I didn't understand," I whispered. And my heart started to softly speed up. It reminded me of how a horse starts running.

Santana was about to ask who, but she realized who.

"I can tell you what he said if you want, if it will help." I spoke as quickly as I could. "He was scary. That's why I couldn't explain to him that nobody was inside with you... I think." I added that last part, because I wasn't entirely sure that was the only reason why I had acted so weird.

She didn't nod, just ran her eyes over me. "We'll figure it out."

It relieved me to hear her say we'll instead of I'll. I smiled.

The hostess grabbed menus and walked us to a big table where Tina was already sitting down. I was so glad she was here. So I sat by her. Santana sat straight across from me with Mercedes.

"How was work?" I asked Tina and scooted my chair in.

"Slow." Tina matched the smile I knew I had on my face. It was a combination of the smile I had given Santana moments before and an excited smile, because Tina was here. "I wasn't sure I would be able to make it to dinner, but Holly said she could cover the end of my shift."

"I wished you lived with us," I pouted. I really did wish she lived with us, but I understood why she lived with Mike, because I lived with Santana.

"It would be fun." She looked at Santana and Mercedes and then looked back to me. "How is it living there? Weird? Does it feel like home?"

"Well-." Mercedes took a breath in. "Living with four other girls is interesting to say the least." She took another breath and glanced between me and Santana. "But I love it."

"Me too," I quickly agreed.

What had happened with Karofsky flashed through my mind. I wasn't sure why. But it was hard to not think about it. It twisted nerves in my chest and it was starting to make me nauseous. I stopped thinking about it and I started reading the appetizers, over and over, even if there were only five of them.

"Hello ladies," Rachel announced. She walked up to the table and then took a seat in the empty chair on the other side of Santana. From the look on Santana's face, she hadn't expected Rachel to sit by her.

"I'm starving. Oh!" Rachel looked up from setting her purse underneath the table. "This Saturday you'll be singing first, Tina, and I'll be singing in the eleven-o'clock spot." She adjusted her seat. "I still can't believe Will didn't let us choose our own individual theme and forced us to draw from a hat. It's already bad enough he approved of Seven Deadly Sins Saturday." Rachel didn't like the name so she rolled her eyes.

"Oh please," Mercedes interrupted. "You got the best one. At least you're not stuck trying to find a costume for Greed."

Rachel tisked, but didn't answer Mercedes. "Are you sure you don't want to trade, Tina? Your costume isn't even right for the song you're singing."

Rachel wanted to sing an angry song to Finn and Tina had drawn Wrath from the hat. I still wasn't sure why she was upset with him. I hadn't even known that was the reason she has been angry until yesterday.

"Your song doesn't have to fit your costume," Tina responded. "Santana's song doesn't have anything to do with her outfit."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Which is ridiculous and is why she is singing last. It defeats the entire purpose of having themes."

Santana shot Rachel a dirty look.

Quinn walked up to the table before Rachel could keep going. Rachel always worried about themed nights. She didn't need to worry at all. They were for fun, not for worry.

"There you are, Quinn," Santana greeted. "Please, sit here. I saved you a seat." She motioned towards Rachel's chair.

Quinn just sat by me. She hung her purse on the back of the chair and then leaned in and looked at my menu while the other girls continued to talk about outfits. "What are you getting?" She sounded a little out of breath and smelled like cinnamon whisky. I bet we all smelled like one huge bar when we got off work. I bet our house smelled like a bar too.

And I bet she was out of breath because she was wearing heels. Whenever I wore heels it felt like I was constantly climbing up a mountain.

What was I getting? I had no clue what I was getting. I hadn't even been really reading the menu earlier, just looking at it.

"This is good." She pointed to something. Fettuccini Alfredo w/ Steak and Asparagus.There wasn't even a price. She pointed to a few more things, half of them I couldn't pronounce. "I'm really sorry about last time," she whispered but continued to look at the menu. "I shouldn't have let you sit here for that long."

"It's okay." I peeked over at her. She was looking at the menu and not at me. Quinn had found out she was pregnant right before she had not show up. I think that was a bit more important than making it to lunch with a friend.

"It won't happen again." She glanced at me and then back at my menu. "I'll make it up to you and take you out for lunch for your birthday."

My birthday! Not that I had forgot about it, but she just reminded me that my birthday was getting close.

"You should get this." Her tone switched from soft and only for me to hear, to normal. She pointed to something near the bottom. "It's my favorite. Oh! No," she said as she pointed at something else. "I take that back, this is my favorite."

"How much is everything?" I still didn't see any prices.

Quinn took my menu, but still held it in between us. "It's free, Honey. I'm paying."

I ran my eyes over the menu one last time. "Spaghetti," I responded. I had been waiting for her to point at it and say she liked it, so I could say I would get it.

"Brittany," Rachel sighed from across the table. "I can make spaghetti any night at the house. Why would you order that?" She shook her head and then looked back at her own menu.

The rest of the girls peeked up from their menus.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Gross. Don't make food."

Rachel didn't even care about Santana's comment. She kept her attention on me. "I was trying to imply that maybe you could order something different, branch out a little. If I didn't know any better I would think you lived in a tiny plastic bubble."

I knew Rachel wasn't in her best mood. Whenever she was mad at something, she acted mad at everything. When I looked up at her to respond she was looking at her menu. My face started to heat up. I didn't understand why she would be annoyed with me and I didn't understand why I suddenly cared about her being sassy to me. Maybe, because for the second time in a row, I couldn't tell if someone was insulting me or telling the truth.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

The girls were surprised I had said anything. I was surprised. But Rachel looked the most surprised. She shook her head. "Forget it."

No. I didn't want to forget it. If I didn't understand something, I wanted to understand it. "No. Can you please explain?" I tried as hard as I could to talk normal, but I knew my words had come out too fast.

She still didn't look up from her menu. "I meant exactly what I said. Don't take it personally, but..." she glanced at me and then back to her menu, "sometimes it feels like you're in your own little world and it's frustrating."

"Rachel," Mercedes warned.

She didn't need to warn Rachel.

"What?" Rachel finally set her menu down. She gestured towards me. "Brittany asked me a question."

I nodded. I did ask her a question.

Rachel looked right at me. "Like I said, don't take it personally, but you've always been ... predictable... It is literally as if you're in a plastic bubble and can't see anything outside of the bubble. You always order the same food. You leave your truck unlocked and just assume people won't steal it. At work you constantly allow male customers to cross a line that shouldn't be crossed, and at the housewarming party you didn't even bother to respect the fact that I asked you to use a coaster. You never take anything seriously. Everything you see and care about is what's inside your safe bubble."

I shouldn't have asked Rachel this in front of everyone. I shifted and couldn't find a comfortable way to sit. Some of that stuff could be true, but I did take things seriously. Lots of things. "That's not true."

"It is true." She looked even more annoyed. "At work you mix drinks without measuring anything and you drink while you're working. You do know that Will could lose his business license if you're caught drinking on the job? You could lose your job. Your job is something that should be taken very seriously, especially now that you're paying rent."

I hadn't ever thought about it that way. But everyone does that. "Everyone has drinks at work." I glanced around the table, skipping over Santana, to make sure I wasn't just imagining that. They looked uneasy. I didn't want to make dinner uneasy.

"Other people drinking at work is not the point," Rachel said.

"So the point is just about drinking?" I said and immediately wished I hadn't brought that up again, especially in front of Santana. I was digging myself into a big hole and I didn't want to make Santana think she had to pull me out. Drinking wasn't a big deal and it was hard to pull people out of imaginary holes when they imagined to get stuck. "What?" I said, because Rachel was staring at me.

"The point is, it's sometimes hard to communicate with you because of your plastic bubble." Rachel was going to continue, but was interrupted.

"Where is the waitress?" Santana glared around the restaurant in search of our waitress. "She hasn't even brought us breadsticks. Rachel, go get our bread sticks," she demanded. "Don't come back unless you have a full basket. You can ask Brittany to borrow her plastic bubble," she used her fingers to quote the last words, "to carry a few extra."

Rachel looked a bit surprised. I think she had forgotten Santana was here.

Santana said something in Spanish.

The conversation was dropped and then everyone pretended to look at their menu, but really just waited for Santana or Rachel to say something else. I was glad they weren't looking at me.

I chanced a peek at Santana and she looked unsettled. I wanted to reach for her hand, but I figured she didn't want the girls looking at her any more than I wanted them looking at me. Things were more overwhelming when people knew you were upset or uncomfortable. But, of course, Santana doesn't get overwhelmed at things like I do. Maybe I could reach for her hand.

I never did. The waitress walked over and Santana said something about finally getting our water and told her we had been ready to order for quite some time.

I ordered spaghetti. Everyone forgot about what Rachel had said and went back to talking about work, except Santana. She was really quiet. Sometimes I would start to say something to her, but chicken out. I knew she was quiet for a reason. I knew she didn't want people talking to her and I knew she didn't want to be here anymore.

Halfway through my spaghetti I got up to use the bathroom. Quinn followed.

"How are you and Santana?" Quinn asked from her stall. "She seems a little off."

Quinn had noticed Santana was quiet too. I wasn't surprised. Only surprised she was asking about me and Santana, because of our last conversation in her Easter-baby room. "She's tired," I answered.

"Santana always gets the last word in with Rachel." Quinn stopped for a little and I thought she was going to leave it at that. "Something's wrong."

I didn't answer until I was out of my stall. "I think she's tired." I started washing my hands. I knew why Santana was upset and I knew she wanted to wait to tell everyone.

Quinn walked out of her stall and turned on the water next to me. She had perked up. "I have an idea. How about we go to that theme park, Cedar Point. I overheard a couple customers at work talking about it and it sounds like a blast. They have a swim park and a dinosaur exhibit. I've never been, but I figured it would be a perfect way to spend a day. For your birthday," she added. "I'll buy you corndogs until you puke."

I had wanted to go there since I had found out about it! "My mom wanted to take me there for my birthday when I was little." I smiled at Quinn. I had always put it on my birthday list. One year my mom even bought tickets, but she got sick the day we were supposed to go. "That'd be fun!" My face started to cramp from smiling.

"Then we'll do it." She shut the water off and went to get a paper towel.

I walked to get a paper towel too. "Thanks for dinner," I told her.

She opened the bathroom door for me. "Anytime you want dinner, I'll take you out."

I smiled even bigger. "Okay."

When we got back to the table, Quinn started to tell me about the dinosaur exhibit at Cedar Point. The girls calmed their conversations and joined in on ours. I kept glancing at Santana, waiting for her to say something. She just smiled and nodded, but never said anything other than cool or sounds fun.

And then dinner was over and we headed home. Santana took the back seat again. The longer she was quiet, the more anxious I got. I wanted to ask her if she was okay, but instead I waited and I kept peeking at her in the window's reflection.

Karofsky wasn't parked outside when we pulled up, but Santana still didn't say anything. That was what I thought she would be worried about. Him. But maybe it wasn't. We went inside the house and I plopped on the couch. I didn't know what else to do. So I sat.

xxXXxx

Santana and Mercedes were in the kitchen drinking a glass of wine. I was laying on the couch with my legs over the armrest.

I still hadn't decided what to make of Rachel's plastic bubble comment. Was it a bad thing if it was true? I didn't think it was true. Why would it be hard to talk to me?

"Because I can't talk," I mumbled to myself and started to bite my nails. "That's why she didn't talk at dinner." Because Santana knew I had a hard time explaining myself. I bet she had wanted to talk about Karofsky at dinner. I was stupid and she was doing things she didn't need to do, because I was being stupid.

"Great," I mumbled again.

Or maybe she really hadn't wanted to talk about him and it was coincidence that I hadn't wanted to either. I didn't know. I couldn't decide.

"Where's my cat?" I pulled my nails from my lips and turned my head to search the living room. Lord Tubbington wasn't here. I remembered shutting him in my room.

Did Santana think I was in a plastic bubble? She had said that she loved me, and it wasn't because it had been raining. I was positive that was just one giant metaphor for losing my mom. So that meant she loved me not because she felt bad for me. So I wasn't in a plastic bubble, because Santana knew what I felt and meant and said.

"Looooorrrdd tubbiest-cat-in-the-world," I called. I wanted him to not be stuck in my room and come downstairs.

I wasn't going to sit and overthink things. I had promised myself I wouldn't overreact and if that meant talking to Santana, then that was what I was going to do.

I sat up and swung my legs off of the armrest, waited for a second so I didn't get dizzy when I stood up, and then I jumped up from the couch.

Santana was sitting at the table. By herself. Where was Mercedes? I looked around the kitchen and by the time I looked back at Santana, she had noticed I was here. Her wine glass was empty.

"Did you drink all of the wine?" I looked for the bottle.

She shook her head. "No." She didn't say anything else.

The feeling I got when she said no wasn't a good feeling. Something was wrong.

I looked for the wine again. It was the only thing I could think to do. I was a little taken off guard by Mercedes not being in here. Not that I didn't want to be alone with Santana, because I loved being around Santana. I just felt... unprepared.

I took a breath. "Are you okay?" I asked and walked toward the table. Maybe something scary happened. He probably called her. "Did Dave call you? He didn't say anything, did he? Did he come back?" I looked at the back door.

"No, no." Santana let out a smile. It wasn't a real smile, it was just a way for her to calm me down. Again she was doing something for me. "Did you want a glass of wine?"

I didn't not want a glass of wine, so I shrugged. "I don't care."

Her lips tucked into her mouth and she gave one nod. I had hurt her feelings.

"Should I care?" I asked. My nerves were making me ask. The way she had reacted made it feel like I should care. Maybe I should care. Yes. Probably. Of course I should care. I had said something confusing to her about drinking earlier and now I was being more confusing.

She shrugged.

Now what?

It was the first time I had felt like something was missing with us. Or maybe it was the first time I had noticed. It wasn't something bad or that couldn't be replaced, it was just missing.

It reminded me of conversations I had had with my mom. The ones where I wouldn't know what was happening or what she meant, and so I wouldn't say anything. I would pretend and wait for it to be okay, but misunderstandings sometimes ended badly.

I wasn't going to pretend with Santana. Thinking of doing that was scary.

"I'm not sure if being in a plastic bubble is a bad thing, and Karofsky thought I was drunk, and I'm worried that I'm going to make our relationship and our conversations difficult, because right now feels like talking to my mom." I said everything. "But you're not my mom. Obviously. I just don't know what to say right now." I paused and then spoke softer. "I was lying out on the couch and I kept wanting to come in here and I never did."

Santana pulled out the chair next to her.

I sat in it. It was better now that I was sitting down. Before it had felt like I had been standing on a cloud I was going to fall through.

"So we should talk," Santana said.

"Okay." I faced her. My knees bumped into her thigh.

She rested her elbow on the table. I think she felt better. She looked more relaxed. "What were you overthinking?" she asked.

I shrugged and instantly regretted doing it. It wasn't that I had nothing to say. Sometimes I shrugged out of habit.

Her eyes clouded. She spoke before I could take back my shrug. "I don't want you involved with Karofsky," she said. It was very decided in the way she said it.

I waited for more. But I think she needed me to ask for more. "You don't want me involved at all? What about the restraining order?"

She sat up, facing me, with the corner of the table in between us. "I'm not sure yet." Her entire body language changed. She looked like she was sitting on the edge of a cliff again. "I'm sorry for not bringing him up sooner. I-. It's easier-," she pinched her lips together. "I liked what you said before, about our relationship, about it being about just us. I never wanted him anywhere near you and so I started by not telling you who he was."

"Our relationship is about us," I reassured her.

"I know... it is." She ran her tongue over her lips. "As much as I want to be in a plastic bubble and hide away with you, we can't do that."

Was that why she was quiet at dinner? Because of Rachel's bubble comment? I nodded. It was a slow nod. I wasn't sure what she meant by that. If it was good or bad. We can't do what? Be us?

I spoke quickly. "I really didn't mean to overreact earlier, Santana. I'm fine now and if you want I can help with the restraining order. If you're worried about me getting hurt, you don't have to be. I like you and I don't care what he says."

"I care, Britt," Santana snapped. Not a mean snap, just intense. "I never, ever, want him to say another word to you." She took a breath and then it was really quiet. "Sometimes it scares me." She paused again. "I see you have these conversations with Quinn. I see how easy it is for you to talk with her and talk with the other girls. I'm not saying it's hard for us to talk, but it's been different lately. I don't even know why it's different." Her words sounded cold. I couldn't decide if it was because of what they could be implying or if it was me being paranoid.

"Maybe it's different because we're dating now," I said.

She flinched. My stomach sunk. Did she not want to date? Or she probably flinched because she thought I didn't want to date her. I couldn't decide. "I don't mean that in a bad way," I corrected myself. My fists clenched and I fought the urge to press the heels of my palms into my forehead. "This is what happens," I said it aloud, though it was only meant for me. This is what happens when I try to say important things. Nothing makes sense.

"What happens?" Santana whispered.

"I didn't mean that us dating is why we have difficult conversations. Big feelings come with big conversations. I have big feelings for you. I just suck at talking."

"You don't suck at talking," Santana said.

"But I do. I couldn't talk earlier, I can't explain myself now. I never say things that make sense. People don't take me seriously. You heard what Rachel said at dinner. Maybe she was right."

"We're talking now. Rachel sucks at talking."

Now I was making this huge unnecessary deal out of how much I thought I sucked at talking. I kept making huge deals. Obviously I didn't completely suck at talking to her. Only recently. "Just recently I suck at talking."

"We're talking now," Santana repeated. "This is just the first time we've had a real conversation in so long." That was true.

"Exactly." I wanted to reach for her hand, but I didn't know if that would distract me or if it would distract her. "We should have real conversations." She was right. This was the first time we were having a real conversation.

"The conversation last night was real though." I said as soon as I thought it. I didn't want to make her think the wrong thing. "I really do love you." She glanced up at me and then dropped her eyes back to her hands. Now I knew why she had been looking at her hands and it was because her eyes were teary. It was weird to see. I had cried so much lately and she hadn't at all. I wished we could switch bodies so she could be me and cry when she felt like it and I cry be her and be able to not cry.

She wasn't talking, so I kept going. "It was stupid for me to overreact about what that guy said about being drunk." I could feel my cheeks starting to flush. Not only was it embarrassing to think about what was said, but it was more embarrassing to think how I had reacted to it. "Sometimes I get stage fright when I don't know what to say. It's probably genetic. My mom was really worried about talking to other people too." I started to trace my nails over the wood grain in the table.

My mom had always made big deals about conversations with people. One time she told me a story about being at the grocery store when I was really little. I remembered the story word for word, because my mom would repeat stories, which was okay. Me and her had been in the cereal aisle and she said I was picking up different cereal boxes and bringing them to show her. She never said why she was at the store and not my dad. I had always wanted to ask, but I didn't know if it was okay to ask. Sometimes my mom would get upset about things she didn't want to share.

But then this woman said something to my mom about me being a handful. My mom said she told the woman I was a good kid. And that wouldn't sound like a big deal to anyone else, but my mom didn't really go out much. Each time she told that story she would jump back and forth between being unsure if she said the right thing, and proud that she had stood up for herself.

I realized me and Santana had been sitting for the quietest, longest, minutes. I considered telling Santana the story. Instead I continued with what I started to say earlier. "I just don't want to say something that doesn't need to be said."

Santana grabbed my hand. It took me a bit by surprise. And her eyes were still a little cloudy. "What'd you say to Karofsky?" She had an eyebrow cocked. "Before he left, you said you told him people were coming, right?"

The image of him trying to open the front door flashed through my mind before any words did. "Uh, yeah."

"Okay." Santana pulled her hand away from mine and held it up like she was emphasizing a point. "Exactly. I probably would have done something stupid and punched him." She had one of her soft smiles. It made me laugh, but mostly because I was relieved she was smiling.

Now I was overly anxious to spill everything. I wanted her to know everything.

"I walked outside when you were in the shower," I began. "He was nice at first, but he started saying things about you, asking about you, and he thought someone was inside the house with you." Santana nodded for me to continue. "He thought I was drunk and he kept saying things about it..." I trailed off. "I didn't even think to tell him that my truck was my truck. I just said nothing."

Santana nodded. "Thank God you didn't say it was your truck." She shifted in her seat and scooted a little closer to me so her knees were touching mine. "He kept saying things?"

"Mean things," I added.

"Like?"

"I don't want you to feel like you have to take care of me," I blurted. That thought had been floating in the back of my mind since I walked in the kitchen. Santana didn't need to take care of me and I didn't want our relationship to be that. "I hate that since my mom died it feels like you're always taking care of me." Maybe that was why I had a hard time talking. I didn't want the attention. I had had enough attention. "And it's my fault, because I don't know how to make it so I don't think that. I know you said you weren't with me and you didn't love me just because it was raining." I was hoping her metaphor for rain was the same as mine. "So obviously, I know you're not taking care of me." I stopped. I was losing my thoughts. I didn't know why I was saying what I was saying.

"You lost your mom," Santana said. The look o her face meant she didn't agree with what I had said.

I blurted out more. "I don't want you to take care of me."

She scooted back in her seat so our knees weren't touching anymore.

What was I doing? No. I didn't want her to scoot away. I just didn't want her to have to work to be with me. "I don't want to say the wrong thing." I felt like I was horrible train wreck and Santana wasn't someone I wanted to train wreck into. "Y-you," I stuttered and I knew it was because I had so many thoughts racing around. "I don't want you to have to take care of me," I repeated. It was the only thing I figured I could say a full sentence of and that made sense.

It looked like a million thoughts were running through her mind too, but she wasn't saying any of them.

She licked her lips and then sat up straight. It was powerful. Maybe I just felt really out of control though and it only felt like that. "I'm not always good with people. I don't know how relationships work, but I will help you if you need it. Relationships have more than one person for a reason."

I didn't have a response. But I liked what she was saying.

"I don't want him saying anything to you, or hurting you, or-," She broke off and shifted in her seat. She was running her nails over her knuckles. She was nervous. "No." That was all she said.

No what? I looked from her and around the kitchen. It was so quiet. Everyone else had to be asleep. I looked back to her and she still wasn't looking up. "Why no?" I asked.

"Because," she spoke so soft and nothing like how she had confidently been speaking. If I was a train wreck then she was definitely a roller coaster. "I can't figure out how we work." Her lips twitched so she held her breath and waited to continue. "I love my family so much and you saw how they were." She looked up and must have forgot she was trying to avoid eye contact and looked back down.

"I want you and I want my family," she spoke to the table. "I already ruined things with my dad. Family is all I have. You and family."

There were so many questions I wanted to ask her, especially about her dad.

"My mom won't even tell her family I was the one who caught my dad cheating. She was embarrassed." Santana started to pick at her nails. I was glad she wasn't looking at me, because when she said that it made my face fall. That was sad. "So," Santana cleared her throat, "Karofksy knows my dad and I don't want him saying anything about you and me."

That was easy enough to understand. If anyone would understand, it would be me. My mom hadn't reacted so good about my relationship with Santana, so I knew other parents might not.

I stood up from my chair and I leaned down to her. Right now I only had one answer for her and even though it felt a little obvious, I would still tell her. I put both hands on her cheeks and I kissed her. She looked like she needed a kiss and I remembered that her kisses had distracted me before when I had been upset. "You can have both me and your family."

A sob cracked up her throat. It was just one. I pecked her lips again. She was holding her breath and trying so hard to keep her emotions pushed down. She cared so much about this, maybe about me, about everything. She was trying so hard to stop crying. It was sweet and it was sad.

I could feel her tears run over my fingers. "Did you know that elephants are one of the only animals that cry 'cause they're sad?" I said it, because I could see how how desperate she was to stop crying.

Another noise cracked through her throat, but this time it was a laugh.

I stood up.

She wiped her face. "I'm a crying elephant?" She laughed again and it was surprisingly cute.

I picked up her empty wine glass from the table and started to walk it toward the sink. "Elephants do have the biggest hearts out of all the animals." I turned on the water to rinse out the glass. I didn't know if that was true, but they had to have big hearts since they were so huge. "Plus, peanuts are salty. Where else are they going to get their water?"

She laughed again.

I knew we still had stuff we had to talk about, but this was a start.

"Soon enough you're going to run out of things like that to say," she said. Doubt it. "Speaking of, I have birthday plans for you."

I slammed the water off and spun to face her. "Plans?" I knew I had the biggest smile on my face.

"After work on Saturday. We both have Sunday off and even though Sunday isn't your real birthday, we can pretend it is." She stood up, pushed her chair in, and grabbed my hand. We started walking out of the kitchen and towards the stairs. She stopped mid step and squeezed my hand so I would stop with her. "You weren't overreacting," she said it like she just remembered how important it was.

It took me a second to realize she was talking about. I nodded, but I wanted to go upstairs and fall asleep with her. I wanted to fall asleep happy and I didn't know if talking about confusing things would end happy or end confusing.

I smiled and she squeezed my hand again and then started leading me upstairs. Not like before. We were going up the stairs for a different reason.

We both got ready for bed in the bathroom and then this time we went to my room. I wanted to sleep in my new bed. We had to go in there anyways to feed Lord Tubbington. Santana crawled into my bed while I grabbed the food bowl from the bathroom and filled it with cat food I had hidden in my closet. If I didn't hide it, Lord Tubbington would eat himself to death.

When I got back to the room, Santana flipped the sheets open for me and I snuggled up next to her. I grabbed her hand and then when I turned to face her she started to kiss me. They were slow kisses that made me forget I was lying in a bed. She was really good at kissing and touching. Beautiful people gave beautiful kisses.

The sheets were warm, the room was warm, and her tongue was warm.

I had never kissed someone like this before falling asleep. These were real goodnight kisses. That was all we did. She had her hand on my hip and kissed me until my lips started to feel lazy and I fell asleep.