AN: I took a long hiatus from this story, but I'm now at a point where I can dedicate time to it. I'm hoping to at least crank out bi-weekly updates as long as life doesn't get too crazy. I'm sorry that it has taken forever for this update, but I hope it has been worth the wait! It's been amazing to see how many people have followed/favorited this story while it's been on hiatus!

This chapter is a little bit different – I've transitioned to writing from Santana's POV so it backtracks over the last chapter a little bit and seeing it from the other side. Let me know what you think – I don't normally do things like this but I thought I'd try it out.

Chapter 10

A fucking relationship. Well, a secret one, but it still prohibits from me getting action from anybody but Quinn. Not that it's necessarily a bad thing; Quinn is amazing in bed. I guess Britt has always been right when she has said that sex is better with feelings. I've spent two years scoffing at Brittany and ignoring her blatant pleas to talk about what has been going on between us and it's not until Quinn is in front of me being an insecure, jealous bitch that I realize why I've been avoiding the talk with Brittany for so damn long.

I thought I was avoiding "the talk" because I didn't want to admit certain things to myself like the fact that I'd rather watch Berry twirl in her obscenely short skirts than ever make out with Finn or any other of the football guys. I have two and a half more years in this shitty cow town to endure and there's no way I'm doing that with that kind of label permanently adhered to my forehead.

Having Quinn put the same kind of pressure on me feels so different. I have the power to crumble Quinn, but doing it to Quinn would mean I would have to lie. I want all of the things Quinn is offering. Sure, I wasn't going to fly a freaking rainbow flag in my front yard and we were going to be locked in the closet until we were far away from Lima, but the idea of any sort of future with Quinn feels like winning the biggest prize at the carnival.

I feel like a lovesick, pathetic loser on Thanksgiving as I keep my phone within reach every second of the day. The first message from Quinn comes shortly after noon with a frantic message that she can't pick what to wear. It's a little surprising because Quinn basically never cares what her outfits look like. Her closet is filled with a million of her knee-length dresses that don't flatter her amazing figure in the slightest and she just alternates what color she's going wear on a given day. I close my eyes and mentally flip through the outfits I've seen her in. I have to keep pulling my thoughts away from her legs in her Cheerio uniform to focus on the task at hand. Finally it comes to me and I send her back a text.

Green sleeveless dress with one of your super conservative cardigans. If you really want to pull off your perfect little girl look, throw in some pigtails.

I'm not surprised when I get a message back a minute later, though the words on the screen are unlike any response I had expected to get from Quinn.

You only want me in pigtails so you have something to grab onto later ;)

I practically choke on my own spit at Quinn's flirty message. In all honesty, I didn't even know she had it in her. I let myself use it as a pathetic way of asking her if I can come over later. She gives me an open answer yet again and I sigh, sending back a half-hearted joke before stuffing my phone back into my pocket.

Dinner has been cleared hours ago when my phone finally buzzes again. I refrain from immediately accepting the call on the first ring so I don't sound desperate. As it buzzes a second time, I swipe my thumb across the answer bar and lift it to my ear.

Quinn is inviting me over and I'm accepting without hesitation. I try to sound indifferent when I tell her that I'll be there in ten minutes, but as soon as I hang up I know how ridiculously smitten I sounded. All she had to do was call and I already come running.

Knowing how uncomfortable the Fabray house usually is, I call Quinn's cell phone while standing on her front porch instead of ringing the bell. Her dad's car is missing from the driveway, but I'd still rather avoid an awkward conversation with Mrs. Fabray if I can help it.

A minute later the heavy door swings open and I'm greeted with the sight of Quinn in the outfit I had picked out for her minus the pigtails. In all actuality I prefer her long, loose waves to her hair pulled back anyway. I feel sheepish as I sense her eyes raking down my own outfit: a pair of dark jeans and scuffed black Chucks. I'm wearing a winter coat and I have a beanie pulled down over my ears. I had chosen to walk the couple of blocks and, damn, it was cold out tonight.

She ushers me inside and I catch a glimpse of her mom cleaning up in the dining room before I'm whisked up the stairs towards Quinn's bedroom. I've only been in the room a couple of times, but I waste no time in collapsing onto her bed. I'm facing away from her as I sprawl out on my stomach with my feet dangling off of the edge. Quinn's perched on the end of the bed, just out of the reach of my peripheral, but I can hear her tapping on the screen of her cell phone.

I reach over and pick up a tattered book that's sitting on her nightstand. It's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and I chuckle internally at the fact that Quinn is reading a kid's book. For such a hard-ass bitch, she really is a damn softie.

Careful of the crumbling cover, I open the book and writing catches my eye. The handwriting is formal penmanship that was written in an expensive fountain pen. It's obviously pretty old as the letters are faded, no longer a strong onyx black. The message is addressed to a girl named Lucy.

"Who's Lucy?" I ask Quinn and her eyes dart up from her cell phone laced with fear before hardening into indifference. She runs her tongue over her bottom lip briefly before responding.

"It's my actual first name," she says, trying to feign nonchalance. I see right through it when I notice the beet-red blush that takes over her perfect porcelain skin. Now I'm just plain curious about what is going on.

"Why do you go by Quinn then?" I ask. I know I'm pushing, but I'm really just interested in why Quinn is pretending to be someone else.

Quinn seems to believe that I'm being genuine, which I am, and I see her shoulders relax just a fraction.

"I was a much different person when I lived under the name Lucy. But when I changed, I started going by my middle name instead."

Trust Quinn to answer the probing question with the most vague response ever. I let out my breathe and take a moment to plan my next move so that she actually gives me some actual information on what's going on.

"I'm sure you didn't change enough to require you to go by a completely different name," I say as casually as I can muster, letting my eyes penetrate her bright hazel ones.

Quinn moves then, lifting herself off of the end of the bed and walking over to a picture frame that was displayed on top of her dresser. She took the silver frame in her hands and looked down at the picture before crossing the room again. Quinn pauses in front of me and slides the back off of the frame before handing me two pictures.

My eyes dart between the two pictures. One of them is pretty recent; Quinn is wearing her Cheerio uniform and has a face smile plastered to her face with a girl that looks like a younger version of Mrs. Fabray standing beside her. The other photo is much older. The Mrs. Fabray mini-me is in it, standing in front of an enormous Christmas tree looking stiff next to a girl, a few years younger that was overweight and looked awkward next to someone as put together as Quinn's sister.

"That's Lucy," Quinn says softly, jabbing a finger at the girl in the Christmas photo. "And that's Quinn."

My eyes follow her finger back over to a girl I recognize well. I glance back at Lucy and realize that under the glasses are the same sparkling hazel eyes as the ones on Quinn Fabray. The tension has seeped into the room at Quinn admitting this huge part of her past. I stay silent, having no idea how to handle it.

"It's amazing what a nose job, contacts and a strict diet and exercise regime can do," she says, trying to give a little chuckle.

"What made you do it? Change, I mean," I ask, not looking up from the photographs held tenderly in my hands.

"The teasing and bullying mostly. I didn't fit in even in my own family. So one day I woke up and decided that I couldn't take it anymore. I convinced Mom to take me to the eye doctor to get contacts. My braces came off shortly afterwards, leaving me with straight white teeth. Frannie got me involved in working out and trained me for cheerleading. I begged Dad for a nose job the summer before ninth grade and he agreed readily, figuring it would be the perfect birthday present since I had lost the weight already and I would be starting at a new school in the fall."

I was immediately sick to my stomach with the idea that her whole family had taken part in changing her. Encouraging your middle school daughter to exercise and eat right was one thing, but what kind of dad lets their fourteen year old daughter get a nose job?

"I wish I could have met Lucy," I say genuinely, the sadness I feel for the girl welling up inside me.

"You would have tortured Lucy," Quinn states simply. I finally look up from the pictures. "I wouldn't have been a cheerleader or dating the popular jock. If McKinley was anything like my old school was for Lucy, I'd be lower on the totem pole than Berry was before glee club started."

"You're probably right," I mumbled, dropping my gaze from hers with a twinge of shame.

"Hey," Quinn says softly, her fingers against my chin and urging me to look back up at her. "You're a good person, Santana. I haven't told anybody about my past since we moved and I trust you enough that I'm telling you all of this because my life could be ruined if it got out that Quinn Fabray wasn't always the perfect popular cheerleader that she is now."

Quinn's eyes are filled with trust and passion and I can't help but smile. She leans in and kisses me, causing my insides to squirm happily. Quinn, Lucy, whoever she was, was kissing me and wanted to only kiss me. The perfect popular cheerleader is making out with her second in command rather than some asshole jock. I grip her tightly, holding her face tenderly against mine until my lungs start to burn with the need for oxygen.

I pull back, resting my forehead against hers. Her hair tickles my cheeks and I smile at having her this close to me. I move my arms so that I pull her into me, causing us to tumble back onto her bed, both of us giggling.

"I'm glad you came over," Quinn says quietly, sounding even more vulnerable than when she was telling me all about her secret past.

I reach up and pull her face towards mine, letting our lips meet again instead of responding with words. I'd love to promise her that we're going to make this work but I'm scared shitless. Instead, I do everything in my power to reassure her physically and avoid talking altogether.

I'm sitting outside Quinn's house at four in the morning. She clambers down the front steps and down the walkway to my car. I smile as she opens the door and slides into the passenger seat. It's the first time she's going Black Friday shopping and as much as I hate being up at this hour, I can't help but admire how freaking adorable she looks.

I left her house a little after ten last night after she claimed that she needed to get a decent night's rest for shopping this morning. I could hear the giddiness in her voice at being included in something that had always been a tradition for Britt and I. With one more peck, I was grabbing my jacket and pulling my hat back onto my head for the walk to my house.

Quinn reaches over the center console as I'm backing my car out of her driveway and brushes her fingers across mine that is on the gear shift. I feel an involuntary shiver shoot down my spine at the tiny gesture. I swallow hard and head in the direction of Brittany's house in near silence.

Guilt consumes me the second Brittany appears, bounding down her driveway with unabashed excitement. I haven't seen her since she left my house on Wednesday night. Looking at her all I felt was the dark cloud looming over me that I was going to actually talk to her about feelings in the very near future. That was bad enough in itself, but to have to tell her that my feelings didn't match hers just seemed unbearable.

Quinn hops out of the car and pushes her seat forward and climbs into the back, leaving the passenger seat open for Britt. I sigh softly wishing she was sitting in the front with our hands brushing against one another. As I'm pulling out of Brittany's driveway, I catch her eye in my rearview mirror. She gives me a warm smile, her eyes dancing with happiness. That look makes all of this hell feel worth it.

The Lima Bean is a necessary stop on the way to the mall. I don't do well without my morning caffeine on a normal morning and this hour is just unbearable. It's crowded and I'm instantly cranky at having to wait in line to get a double shot of espresso into my system immediately.

Brittany is bouncing on the balls of her feet while making silly faces at a screaming toddler in front of us in line. Only Britt would find a noisy two year-old exciting at four in the morning. Quinn was standing still and quiet beside me, her hands buried in the pockets of her pea coat as she gazes at the chalkboard menu mounted behind the counter. Her hair is pulled back from her face in a loose ponytail and her face has practically no makeup on it. Her skin is flawless as always and I force myself to pull my gaze away before I get caught staring.

We finally get to the counter. Brittany orders a hot chocolate with extra whipped cream before moving aside. I gesture to Quinn, letting her go first. She blushes lightly at my chivalry and orders her chai tea. I give the barista my order: extra large coffee with a double shot of espresso. I see Quinn raise an eyebrow at me, but it drops when I shrug my shoulders and give her a sheepish smile.

I give the girl a twenty and wait for my change, my eyes watching Quinn and Brittany standing next the pick-up counter. Brittany is talking animatedly and Quinn is obviously half-listening, her eyes darting over to catch a glimpse of me. It's weird that the smallest little move makes my insides melt.

My right hand is gripped around my coffee, the left on the steering wheel as I pull into the mall parking lot. It's absolute madness and I have to drive up and down the parking lot for fifteen minutes before finally getting a parking spot. I zoom into it before some asshole can steal it and toss the gear shift into park and climbing out of the car.

The air is crisp and I can almost feel the Christmas season in the air. My breath appears in front of my face in little puffs as I breathe and wait for Britt and Quinn to get out of the car. We walk towards the entrance of the mall in silence. Brittany is skipping happily a little bit ahead of Quinn and I, so I take the opportunity to walk with her.

"Ready for the joys of Black Friday?" I ask, taking a sip of my coffee.

"This place is already a zoo," she replies, glancing around the packed parking lot and the line of people outside of the entrance waiting for the doors to be open.

"Just wait until we race the crazy moms for the toys! They are freaking nut jobs if you can get your hands on the Barbie they want for their kid," I say with a laugh.

"Do you actually do any Christmas shopping?" she asks as we join Brittany in the growing line.

"Unless buying myself a new wardrobe on Daddy's credit card counts as early shopping for myself, no." Quinn gives her head a little shake in disbelief.

"You get up at this ridiculous hour to buy yourself new clothes? You do that every day anyway, San," she says, trying to wrap her head around the situation.

"That defeats all of the fun, Fabray! Don't you want to knock some bitches out of the way to make sure you get the season's hottest knee-high leather boots?"

Quinn still looks shocked that she got out of her warm bed at this hour to accompany while I try on amazing shoes and tight dresses. I guess I'll just have to show her my appreciation of her company in a dressing room later.

The doors open and people start pouring into the mall and run in every direction. Brittany grabs my hand so that we don't get separated. I still have my coffee in my other hand, so I offer Quinn the crook of my elbow to grasp as we push our way through the crowds of people and head directly for my favorite shoe store.

The place is packed and people are pulling boxes down from every shelf by the time we get there. I had looked at the circulars the day before so I knew exactly what I wanted. I weave through the crowds and through the women's shoes until I see them on display. The boots are knee-length and made of soft black leather. They have enough heel to boost me a couple of inches. I scan the shelves expertly, extracting a box in my size. I push my way to a bench and squeeze in next to a major MILF that was trying on a pair of cheetah print heels.

I slide my feet out of my Ugg boots and pull the beautiful boots out of the box. I tug them onto my feet and pull the zipper up my calf, feeling them hug my legs perfectly. I stand up and take a few steps in them. They feel fantastic and my fingers are itching to swipe Dad's credit card already.

I feel eyes on me which, to be honest, was pretty typical. I was one of the few ethnic people in Lima and I was smoking hot. What I wasn't expecting was to spin around to catch Quinn Fabray's eyes glued to my ass in the middle of the busy store. I smirk at her until her eyes make the slow path up to meet mine. Her eyes flutter away in embarrassment and she turns back to the plain flats she had been looking at.

The other two join me in the checkout line with their hands empty. I'm clutching the shoebox possessively as the line slowly inches forward. My heart is pounding from all of the caffeine and I'm jittery as fuck. Damn, I totally deserved that Quinn eyebrow earlier. She knew I shouldn't have drank that much coffee. I finally pay for the shoes and we leave the store with our first bag of the morning.

By ten, we are weighed down with our purchases. Well I am at least. Quinn only has one small bag and Brittany has three, one of them being a huge amount of candy. My stomach is grumbling angrily at the fact that I had skipped breakfast, so we load our bags into my trunk and I drive us to the diner in the middle of town.

The place is packed with moms and their young kids who obviously didn't want to cook the morning after Thanksgiving. The hostess leads us to a booth on the far side and I slide in first. Quinn immediately slides in beside me before Brittany has a chance to do so. I want to laugh at the obvious attempt to make sure she got to sit next to me, but I suppress it, not feeling like starting an awkward conversation with either of them.

I glance down at my menu and try to ignore the warmth of Quinn's leg pressed against mine on the seat bench. The bench is easily long enough that we could sit far enough apart to avoid brushing legs, but she obviously has ulterior motives to drive me absolutely insane.

My fingers twitch, wanting to reach across her lap and intertwine with her own. I refrain; the restaurant is crowded and it's inevitable that we'll see someone we know over the course of breakfast. It makes me wish for high school to be over so that we can move somewhere that we won't have to hide this kind of crap.

I turn my attention back to the conversation at the table. Quinn is listening to Brittany talk about Lord Tubbington. Her eyebrows are knit as she works to maintain her serious face given the topic at hand. It's impressive the way she can wear such a mask at all times; most people would have broken down and told Britt that she's absolutely ridiculous at this point. But Quinn's face is as stony as can be, her fingers absentmindedly playing with her straw wrapper.

Our food arrives at the table and my stomach growls in appreciation from the very first bite of my waffles. I shove a piece of bacon in at the same time and moan at the deliciousness of it all. Quinn giggles and rolls her eyes at me as she carefully cuts her pancakes into little squares. Brittany is pouring ketchup over her scrambled eggs to look like a face before swirling it all together and shoving a forkful into her mouth. It's adorable and I've watched her do it probably a million times, but my urge is to watch Quinn cut with precision, taking her time pouring the sugar-free syrup over them and lifting the first bite to her mouth. I'm halfway done with my food by the time she starts eating.

By the time Quinn finally finishes her breakfast and we pay, it's nearly noon. My caffeine levels have fallen drastically and I can't wait to crawl into my bed and sleep the afternoon away.

I'm about to drive past Quinn's house in favor of my own automatically, figuring we'd all nap together. She asks me to drop her off and I catch her glance in the mirror, trying to read her expressionless face.

"We always have nap time after shopping, Q!" Brittany exclaims from the passenger seat as I guide the car to the curb in front of the Fabray mansion.

It clicks then: Quinn wants me have alone time with Britts to have "the talk." I swallow hard at the thought and avoid catching her eyes again.

"Sorry, B. I have a lot of homework to get done and I want to be able to hang out with your guys tonight," Quinn replies nonchalantly. I hop out of my seat to let her out and follow her to the trunk so she can get her solitary bag.

"You can come over, you know," I say softly as I lift the trunk door up. She rifles through the mess of bags for a moment until she locates her own. I shove my hands nervously into my pocket and stare down at my shoes.

"San.." she says, obviously aware I know exactly why she's not coming over. "Hopefully I'll see you tonight," she says sweetly with a smile I've only ever seen her use when looking at me. My heart melts instantly and I reach out to graze her hand quickly before walking back towards my car door.

"See ya, Q," I say, trying to stay emotionally vacant as I possibly can.

I climb back into the car and pull away from the curb without glancing back. As soon as I pull my car into my garage I turn off the ignition and move to grab the bags out of the trunk. I'm no longer in the mood to nap now that Quinn isn't here. Brittany picks up her own bags and follows me into the house.

We close ourselves into my bedroom and Brittany immediately makes herself comfortable in my bed, sliding under the covers and scooting to the side to give me room to crawl in next to her. I know I have two choices: talk to her and get to have Quinn for real but break her heart or climb into bed and take a nap and just try to avoid getting into awkward situations with Britt.

Against my gut, I choose the weak path and climb into the bed, trying to stay strictly on my side of the bed. Brittany immediately rolls over to snuggle into my side and my body goes stiff. I hope that she doesn't notice because I really don't want to explain right now.

Her lips brush my neck right under my ear and I jerk away. The confusion immediately sprung across her face at my rejection and my stomach dropped. Good, I hate making Britt feel anything but happy.

"I'm exhausted, Britts," I mumble and roll away. There's always later to deal with this.

I don't actually take a nap. I feel guilty about not doing what I know Quinn expects me to. I feel awful about shrugging Brittany off with zero explanation. Instead I stare at my ceiling and listen to the steady rhythm of Brittany's breathing. It's something that I've fallen asleep thousands of times but now it just makes me completely restless.

When my phone starts buzzing on my nightstand I roll over, careful not to cause Brittany to stir, and scoop it up.

I miss you. How are things with B?

Knots immediately form in my stomach. Omitting isn't lying, right?

They're okay. She's sleeping right now and I'm lying on the other side of the bed thinking 'bout you.

Flattery goes a long way. It should be enough to buy me at least a few hours, if not a couple of days.

I lean up on my elbows and glance over at Britt. She's so peaceful and innocent, but it triples when she's sleeping. I can't help but crack a smile at the sight of my best friend. She was my first everything. Am I really willing to throw that all away for the undeniable angst that Quinn causes me on a regular basis? Brittany is simple and even though I never know what is going to come out of her mouth, her loyalty is unwavering.

I can't take the agony of lying here any longer, so I slip out of the bed. If I go downstairs, my mom will know something is up with me and will make me talk about it so I'm stuck amusing myself in my bedroom. Part of me wants to sneak out of my window and visit Quinn. I wish I had the balls to confess to her that I'm a scared closeted teenager that has no idea how to turn down the one person who has always loved me despite my tremendous flaws.

Instead, I pick up a notebook from my desk and rifle through the drawer for a pen. I've never been much of a writer, but it seems better than having to say the words.

Quinn comes over after dinner and I'm excited and nervous all at once at the sight of her standing in the doorway of my bedroom. She hadn't bothered knocking so she obviously trusted that all parties inside would be fully dressed, so that's definitely a start. Her face lights up with the most perfect smile and my anxiety is soothed slightly just at the sight of her.

She glides across the room with her typical gracefulness and hops up onto the bed next to me. I can feel her eyes trying to read the situation to figure out how the afternoon went. Britt is sprawled across the end of my bed with my laptop in front of her stalking some random junior guy that she made out with on Wednesday night.

I can see Quinn's eyebrow quirk in my peripheral and the knots immediately reform in my stomach. She knows I haven't told Brittany anything yet. I mean, I guess it's pretty obvious. I doubt Brittany would be lying around my room so carefree if she knew I'd rather be sleeping with Quinn instead of her. Then again, Brittany rarely gets upset about anything.

"What's the plan for tonight?" Quinn asks, smoothing invisible wrinkles from the skirt of her dress.

I shrug, really not in the mood to deal with anything tonight. It's the perfect night for a pint of Ben and Jerry's and a marathon of really bad reality television shows by myself in my bed. However, I know that's not an option with these two around.

"There's an upperclassman party at Paul's," Brittany says, her eyes still glued to the computer screen. I look over at Quinn at the mention of her ex-boyfriend's name. She's still completely stony faced.

"Could be fun," I say casually, leaning over to get a nail file out of my nightstand drawer and start filing my nails simply for something to do but stare at the two girls on my bed right now.

"Whatever you guys want to do is fine," responds Quinn. I didn't really know how to take that so I just shrug.

A party could be amazing or dangerous. Britt got even more cuddly when she had been drinking and I couldn't recall a party we had attending in the past year that we had drank without at least making out with one another. Even if I hadn't actually talked to Britt about our situation yet, I really didn't want to break my word to Quinn. This party could end up being the preliminary test to whether we should even waste our time pursuing this insane secret relationship.

"Let's do it," I say, making up my mind. If I can respect Quinn's parameters while drunk around B, then I'll have the feelings talk with Britt and give this stuff with Quinn a chance. If I can't handle it, then I will stop dragging Quinn through all of this angst.

Quinn smiles nervously and I know that we're sort of on the same page without even speaking. I start praying in my head that I don't screw this all up tonight. I don't want to lose both of my best friends because they're all I have in this town.

"Who wants to do shots?" I ask, getting up to extract the bottle from my closet. Here's to the start of a crazy night.