I get the day off cuz of Memorial Day so you guys get an extra chapter. This is the longest chapter I've written for this story so far. So with that...Enjoy.

Chapter 10: Sunday Funday

Saturday flew by after I said goodbye to Santana and went to work. The eight hours seemed to pass in no time at all and before I knew it, it was 8 pm and time to go home. I thought about calling up Tina and asking if she wanted to come over and hang out at my place for the evening but I was still tired from the night before and decided against it. I ended up just going home and watching re-runs of The Fresh Prince and then going to bed early.

I got up today and went for a run. It is a beautiful March day and I couldn't pass up the opportunity. Lord Tubbington and I are hanging now and I am contemplating calling Tina up and asking her if she wants to go to a movie or something.

"What do you think Lord T?" He is curled up on the couch cushion on the opposite end of the couch as me. He just blinks slowly at me and that's as much of an answer as I think I'm going to get. Not even a meow or him getting up and coming over by me. He just sits there like I didn't even say anything. Fine.

"Now, I just need to find my phone. I don't suppose you know where that is?" I stand up from my spot, and move to stand in front of him, and stare down at him. He just yawns in response.

My phone isn't in the living room. That's where I was sitting. It wasn't on the end table or the coffee table. It wasn't lying on the couch cushions unless it's stuck between the cushions.

I go into the kitchen and don't see it there either. Not on the counter or the island thingy. The only places left are the bathroom and my bedroom. Odds are my phone isn't in the bathroom.

I wish I had a phone, to call my phone, when I misplace it, but I'd probably misplace that phone too.

It's not on the dresser or the desk in my room. It's not on either one of the two nightstands either. That just leaves the bed. As I approach it a hear a little beep beep noise. Which means, I either just got a voicemail or a text message, a few seconds ago. Probably right before I came into my room. I know the phone is on the bed, I just have to find it now.

I figure it would be easiest to just pull back the covers and expose the bed. So I do just that, but I don't see the phone under the blankets, so I drop them at the end of the bed. They hit the floor with a thud. I peel the sheet back onto the bed slowly looking for my phone the whole time. I still don't see it when the sheet is flat against the bed again.

I look on the floor next. There at the foot of the bed lays my phone. It must have fallen out of the sheet when I put it back on the bed. I go to pick it up not bothering to put the comforter back on the bed. I pick up the phone and walk back into the living room. As I plop down on the couch, I scroll across the screen with my thumb, unlocking the phone. And holy shit.

It's not a voicemail. It's a text message.

From Santana: 2 things. 1: I know ur not workin today. 2: do u have afternoon plans?

I look around the room. I'm not sure why I do it but I don't know what else to do. My heart rate speeds up just the slightest bit. I mean come on, Santana just texted me. That's very exciting stuff. When me eyes finally return to my phone, I read of the text three more times, to make sure I understand what is going on right now. Did Santana just text me to see if I want to do something with her this afternoon?

I just stare at the phone for a few more seconds before I can shake myself out of it and restart my brain. My fingers start typing before I even realize it.

To Santana: No afternoon plans

I hit send, and sit, and wait. I stare at the phone in my hands. The seconds seem to tick by painstakingly slowly. The screen lights up at the same time that the text alert sounds. I nearly drop the damn thing in my hast to unlock it.

From Santana: k. if ur free u wanna hang?

I want to type fuck yes but refrain and instead reply with an ok sure. I don't want to seem to eager but I really am eager. Eager to see her. Eager to spend time with her. Eager to do anything that involves her, really. And have it not be in the confines of the bar.

I'm not sure what's doing to happen. I get up to get ready to go out but I don't even know what happening yet. Are we going somewhere? She is coming over to my place? Should I ask if I should go over to hers? Are we going to meet somewhere?

I get an answer to some of my questions when she texts back.

From Santana: I'll come over to ur place. Be there within the hour.

Holy shit. She's coming over here. I pace back and forth, in front of the couch, in between it and the coffee table. I'm not sure what to do. I should get ready in case she wants to go somewhere. No. I should clean up the apartment a little. I look to the kitchen. There are dirty dishes there from breakfast and lunch. I run a hand threw my hair. Yuck. I need to take a shower too. I should have done that a soon as I got back from my run.

The shower is more important than the dirty dishes. I rush into my room to get a change of clothes. Oh shit. What am I suppose to wear? Something cute. Something comfortable? Something sexy. What am I doing? Fuck.

I look around the room. There are dirty clothes from yesterday lying on the floor, in the corner. The bedspread is still lying on the floor, at the foot of the bed. Fuck it, it's just gonna have to stay there.

I go over and pull the second dresser drawer open and grab a long sleeved gray sweatshirt out. It's comfortable and casual. Next, what about below the waist? I pull open the bottom drawer and grab and pair of black skinny jeans. It's the perfect outfit. At least, I think it is.

I hurry into the bathroom. I have less than a hour. I throw my clothes on the floor and turn on the shower as fast as I can.

I am showered and out of the bathroom faster than I think I've ever been. I run in the living room and check my phone. No messages. I still have time. Next up, the dishes. I scurry into the kitchen and start the water in the sink. Add the soap and start washing. There's not a lot but washing all of the dishes will take more than five minutes.

I'm halfway through my I hear my phone go off. A message. I stop washing. There's a bowl and two plates and a pot left to wash. After wiping my hands on the dish towel. I spin around for my phone. I set it on the kitchen island so I would hear if I got any messages.

From Santana: I'm downstairs in front of ur apartment

I look around frantically. I know I can't leave her out there while I finish the dishes, so they will have to wait.

On the way down the stairs I wipe my hands over my thighs nervously. I don't know why I'm so nervous. This has never happened before. Her and I. Usually I'm at work. Or it's after work. But, there is no work involved at all today. Maybe that's it. That's why I'm nervous.

I can see her standing outside on the stoop. I take a deep breathe as I reach the door before pushing it open.

"Oh. Hi Brittany." She looks around like she's not sure what to do or say. "I didn't know if you got my message. You didn't reply."

"Sorry. I got it. Obviously."

"Right." She says and looks down at her shoes.

"Well, come in." I hold the door open for her with one arm and with the other I motion toward the stairs.

"Thanks." Santana looks up and gives me a shy smile.

I follow her up the stairs and into my apartment.

"Sorry the place is such a mess." I mumble as we walk into my apartment. "You can have a seat if you want. I have something to finish real quick and then we can-" I'm not sure what is going to happen after I finish the dishes. Are we going to hang around here or go somewhere else.

"Can what?" Santana asks. I spin around to see her taking a seat on the couch.

I chew my bottom lip between my teeth as I think of something to say. Anything really would do. My brain doesn't seem to be working properly. Why can't I think of anything.

"I have to finish my dishes." Comes out of my mouth dumbly. I squeeze my eyes shut in embarrassment. I turn my back to her and take a deep breath. This shouldn't be so difficult.

"Do you want any help?" I hear her say.

"No." I say sharply probably too sharply. Why would she want to help do my dirty dishes.

"Are you sure? I could like dry. You could wash and I'll dry." Santana suggests.

"No. It's fine. I'll do it, but thanks for offering." I blink my eyes open slowly and walk back over to the kitchen sink. "And when I'm done we can go eat or get ice cream or something. I love ice cream. Do you like ice cream? If you don't, we can get coffee or something else. Or maybe you don't like coffee. I don't know. We don't have to get anything to eat or drink. We don't even have to go out. We could stay here and watch a movie. Or we could go to a movie but-"

"Brittany. Breathe." She giggles. I stop. Stop talking. Stop washing the plate in my hands. Stop all movements. I want to turn around so bad and see the expression on her face. I assume it's super cute. But I can't do that. For one thing, I am even more embarrassed than I was before. My face probably looks like a tomato.

"Sorry." It comes out as a whisper. I resume with my dishes in silence.

"Don't be sorry. It's kinda cute when you ramble. And I do like ice cream and coffee. You can pick which one we should have though."

I freeze again. "Okay." I start moving around after a few seconds and hurry up and finish my dishes. "Sorry. I should have had these done before you got here but I ran out of time. I should have done them as soon as I was done eating."

"It fine, really." She assures me and I sigh out a relieved breathe. She's not put off by my dirty dishes.

"Okay." I finally finish washing and rinsing my last dish. "I was thinking we could get ice cream."

"That sounds-" Santana pauses. "-awesome."

I wipe my hands on the dish towel and turn around with a big smile on my face. She's smiling too and it makes me smile a little bigger. "All done. You wanna go now?" I nod towards the door.

She stands up from the couch. "Sure."

I get to the door first. I swing it open and gesture for her to go though first. She smiles shyly and ducks her head as she steps out of the apartment. After I lock the door, and she is waiting for me at the top of the stairs, we head down and out to my car. I know the perfect place to get ice cream and my brain seems to be working properly again. I guess I just needed some time to calm down and get my head on straight. I have a whole plan now for what Santana and I are going to do today.

I pull up outside the little ice cream shop. "This is it." I announce when I put the car in park. Santana hops out of the car and is standing in front of it before I can even get out.

I open the door and get out. "You must really like ice cream." I tease.

"Well, I do but- let's just go in." She thumbs over her shoulder to the ice cream shop.

"Right."

We get our ice cream and I suggest that we go to the park. She agrees and we get back in the car. "Can you hold this for me?" I turn to Santana in the passengers seat and hold my ice cream cup out towards her. "Need two hands to drive"

"No problem." She takes the ice cream cup from my hand. Her fingers brush over my during the exchange. She sucks in a sharp breath and turns to look out the passengers side window.

My hand snaps back and I clasp it around the steering wheel. I back out of the parking spot and start the drive over to the park. It's not that far away, really. Maybe two miles or so. It's a small town so everything is close in proximity to everything else.

I pull the car into the park a few minutes later and shut the car off. I continue with my plan for the afternoon. "I thought maybe we could walk around the park while we eat our ice cream. Sound good?"

"Yep. Here." I look and she is holding my ice cream out for me to take.

"Thanks."

Two ice creams and a walk around the park later we are both sitting on a park bench.

"So, do you have any brothers or sisters?" I ask her as I get more comfortable on the bench seat. I bring up my right leg, and cross it under the other, and sit on it, with my body half turned towards Santana. With my elbow on the back of the bench, I lean on it and wait to hear her answer.

"No. Only child. What about you?"

"I have a little sister. She's sixteen."

"Really. I didn't know that." Santana comments. "I mean, how would I, but- yeah." She folds her arms over her chest.

"Yeah. I never mentioned it so- She does her own thing. She works in the kitchen at the bar on Friday night but as soon as ten o'clock hits she's gone. She got friends to attend to or something. She doesn't really want anything to do with the family business." I shrug. "It's not really a big deal. A little disappointing that I don't see her a lot anymore but she is a teen and has her own life."

I watch her the whole time as she takes in the information that I am telling her. I want to see how she reacts to everything I say. I'm not sure why. But, just about everything about her intrigues me. My whole plan for the afternoon, after the ice cream, is to ask her a whole bunch of questions about herself. I want to know everything about this woman.

Her head tilts to the side. "Family business?"

Oh, right. "My parents own the bar. They actually only five buildings or businesses in town including my apartment building. My mom works everyday at the bar. Either in the kitchen or in the bar. My dad works as a handyman during the week and on Friday nights and Saturdays he works at the bar. It's been in my family for 40 years. My mom's dad opened the bar and she took over for him when he retired. And I will take over someday too."

"Wow. I didn't know we had so much in common." She laughs.

"Yeah." I join in with her laughter. I never thought about it before now but we do have more in common than I realized. Both of us taking over our parent's business's is just one of the many things.

She stops laughing suddenly. "So wait. You work at the bar, live next door to it, do you pay your parents rent then?"

"Yeah. Is that weird?"

"No. It's just, I don't think I could handle that. All the parts of my life being so- so connected. I don't think I could pay my mom or my dad, for that matter, to rent out an apartment that they own."

I shrug. I don't really know what to say. It's easy and I like it. I don't have to worry about a lot of things that way. I lead a simple life and it works for me. To have everything so close. My home and my work are on the same city block and my family are always around. I like it that way.

"I like it. I'm a simple being. I don't need a lot of things in my life to make my happy. I have what I need and I love what I do." I shrug again. It's not complicated.

"Wow. You are even more amazing than I thought." She says. I smile cuz how can I not. She turns away when she sees me smile and realizes her error. She wraps her arms around herself tighter.

I look down and notice that her hands are balled in the ends of her sleeves and tucked under her armpits. I look around the park quickly. It's March and it's not exactly hot outside. Everyone else in the park either has on a light coat or a heavy sweatshirt. Santana is in a plain blue, thin, long sleeved shirt. I am fine and I look down at what I am wearing. A sweatshirt. "Hey, are you cold?" I say it before I even think it.

She turns to look at me. "No." She hugs herself tighter.

"Yeah, you are. Don't lie." I manage to maneuver myself until I can pull the sweatshirt up and over my head. "Here. Put this on." I hold the sweatshirt out for her.

Santana shakes her head. "What about you?"

"I'll be fine. I like cool weather. And we can leave soon." I drop the shirt in her lap when she doesn't take it. "Just put it on, please. I don't want to be the one responsible for you getting sick."

She eyes the sweatshirt and then me and then the sweatshirt again. "You wouldn't be the one responsible. I'm the idiot who should have worn a warmer shirt."

"You're not an idiot. You just didn't know we would be outside." Santana looks back up from the shirt with those big brown eyes. There's something about them, but I don't know what it is, yet. I don't know if it's sadness, or hope, or fear, or what, but I can see it in her eyes. "Put it on before you freeze to death."

She nods. "Okay." It's a whisper. She lifts shirt and pulls it over her head. She's leaning forward but the sweatshirt still gets stuck on the back of the bench seat. I reach out and pull down the little wad of fabric that is stuck. Her head pokes out as I help her pull the shirt on. "Thanks." She ducks her head. Shy. And runs her hands through her nearly black hair.

"No problem." I use her reply from before. I have more questions to ask so I figure I should start up again before I run out of time. "So, I've heard about your mom but what about your dad?"

Santana looks off into the distance. "He works a lot. He's a doctor."

Okay, that was a little vague. "What kind of doctor?"

"Pediatrics." She shrugs.

"That's cool. He works with sick kids. That must be so rewarding. Getting to help sick kids get better."

"Yeah. He loves it." She sounds distant when she says it.

"You don't sound too happy that he helps kids."

She slowly turns to look at me. "He's not around a lot. My whole life he has been at the hospital helping little kids with cancer and all sorts of serious medical condition while I was at home perfectly healthy. I know it's wrong of me but I was jealous of all of those kids."

"It's not wrong. You just missed your dad and wanted to spend more time with him. He sounds like a really great guy."

"That's the problem." I gave Santana a confused look and she continues. "He is a great guy. He isn't anything like my mom. He's compassionate and caring and only wants to see me happy, no matter what or who it is, that makes me happy."

"Well, he sounds great. Maybe I'll get to meet him one day." Now it's Santana's turn to give me a confused look. I rethink my words. Maybe I shouldn't have said that. I don't want to imply anything or put any sort of unwanted presser on Santana. I change the subject quick to cover my mistake. "We should get going. It is actually a little chilly out here."

She chuckles. "You're just saying that."

I hold my hands out in front of me. "No I'm not. I wouldn't lie about something as important as the warmness, or in this case, coldness of the weather."

She eyes me curiously. Probably trying to figure out if she should believe what I'm saying. Finally she says okay and stands from the bench. I stand with her and we walk side by side back to my car. I don't say anything and she doesn't either. And that's okay. I could spend the whole day with Santana and not say two words to her and be okay with it.

The car ride is filled with just the sound of the radio playing in the background and the noise from the road until Santana spots a group of young boys on the sidewalk. "Little bastards." She mumbles. I don't think I was meant to hear it but I did.

"What's wrong with them?"

There are four boys walking down the sidewalk. One is kicking a soccer ball in front of him. Two of the boys are pushing and shoving each other. And the fourth boy is walking a few feet behind all of them with his hand stuffed in his pockets.

As we pass the one boy tackle the other he is wrestling into someone's front yard. They start rolling around and wrestling on the grass. Kicking and punching and yelling. The one boy gets loose from the other's hold and is running through the yard. The second boy is chasing him. They run through the flower bed.

"That right there. Did you see that? Those kids have no respect. They run around and do as they please and they are totally trespassing on somebody's property. They don't give a shit for anyone but themselves."

"You don't know that. They look like they are just having a little fun. They aren't hurting anyone expect for maybe each other." I don't really see what the big deal is. They're boys. Boys will be boys right. They are young and impulsive. That's just their nature.

"Whatever." She mumbles. We fall into silence again for the remainder of the ride back to my apartment.

I unlock the door to the building and step inside holding the door open for Santana after me. A sound catches my attention and I whip my head around to see my downstairs neighbor out in the hallway.

"Hi Mr. Carlson."

"Hello, Brittany." He smiles politely. Mr. Carlson is a middle aged, single guy. He's one of the nicest guys I know. He even lets me borrow sugar from him sometimes if I run out. He always say hello when he sees me and ask how I am. "How are you?" Just like that.

"I'm good. Just working and stuff. You should come up and see Lord Tubbington some time soon. I'm sure he would like that." His eyes shift from me to my left as I am talking and I can tell that he isn't even paying attention to what I am saying anymore.

He waits until I'm finished. "Who's your- pretty little friend?"

I turn to my left to see Santana. I don't know who is blushing harder, me or her.

"This is my friend, Santana. We just went to get ice cream and went to the park."

"Oh lovely. Well, it's nice to meet you, Santana." He says extending his hand to shake.

"It's nice to meet you too, Mr. Carlson." She shakes his hand and grins at him. I can see the slightly hint of blush tinting her cheeks still.

"Please, you can call me Hank."

"Hank. It was nice to meet you, Hank."

"Will I be seeing you around again?" Hank asks.

The thing is, I don't usually have anyone over to my apartment. Once and a while one of my friend will stop by but usually I go to them. It's not the biggest apartment, so I don't like having a lot of people here, and I normally just don't have anyone over. I think Mike has been here like twice before and I've known him longer than I've lived in this apartment.

Santana eyes me warily before she shrugs. "Maybe."

"Well, until we meet again ladies." He says and turns around towards his apartment door.

"Bye, Mr. Carlson." I yell after him.

"Bye, Brittany. Santana." He says and disappears into his apartment.

"That guy is weird." Santana says as soon as he is gone.

I narrow my eyes at her trying to figure out if she means that he is actually a weird guy or if she is just saying that. Okay, so maybe he is a little weird but I am used to it. "He's a nice guy."

"Yeah, nice but weird."

"Lets just go upstairs." I suggest.

When we get upstairs, I throw my keys into the ugly little ceramic bowl that I made in the sixth grade. It is lopsided and a gross purpley-blue color. I don't even know why I still have it. "Do you want something to drink? I have water, orange juice, milk, and apple juice."

"Apple juice, really, how old are you?"

"Twenty-one, almost twenty-two, and I really like apple juice, so sue me."

Santana laughs. "I'll have apple juice then."

"Comin' right up Ms. Lopez." I wink and say to her before turning to the cupboard and getting two glasses, then pulling open the fridge, and getting the apple juice out.

"So, how long have you lived here, Brittany?"

"Just over two years now."

"Wow. That's impressive."

"Not really." I shrug.

"To me, that's impressive. I still live at home, remember, and I'm like two years older than you."

"Yeah, but I didn't go to college like you. Where did you go again?"

"Ohio State."

"Oh, right. Did you like it?"

"It was alright. It was college. Lots of studying during the week and lots of parties on the weekend." I turn around with our drinks to see her shrug.

"I'm kinda jealous. I never got to have the whole 'college experience'."

"Well, maybe I'll tell you all about it sometime but believe me it's not all it's cracked up to be."

I hand her, her glass of apple juice and take a seat on the couch next to where Santana is sitting. "What was your major?"

"Business." She says and takes a drink of her juice.

"Cuz of taking over the insurance company?" I ask. That seems to make sense.

"Yeah."

"How long has that been the plan?"

Santana shrugs. "Since, I was, like, sixteen."

"Didn't you ever want to do something else?" She sets her apple juice on the coffee table. She looks at me, like I just told her that the sky was red and not blue. "What?"

"Uh- that's been the plan since I was sixteen."

"Yeah, you just said that."

"That's the plan." She tells me for the third time.

"Right. But, is that what you really want to do with the rest of your life?" I feel like something is happening here, but I don't know what. I know one thing though, that Santana doesn't really want to take over for her mom. Either that or something that's related to her mom or the insurance company.

"Yeah, I guess." She shrugs and looks down at her feet. "I don't really have a choice."

"Don't you, though?"

"No. Brittany. I don't. This is what I am suppose to do with my life and it's what I went to school for. It's what my mom wanted, for me to take over for her when she retires. And that's what I am going to do."

"Uh- okay." I don't want to argue with her. That's the last thing that I want. I don't know why she is raising her voice with me right now.

"Look. I have to go." Santana stands up and runs her hands through her hair.

My face scrunches up in confusion. She didn't say anything about having anywhere else to be today. If she did why would she ask me to hang out with her. "But- you didn't even finish your apple juice."

She puts her hands on her hips and looks down at me. It's kinds scary, actually. She has that angry scowl on her face right now and I don't like it one bit. "Fine." She growls.

Santana grabs the glass off of the coffee table and brings it to her lips. She drinks the whole glass without taking it from her lips or breathing at all. When it's empty she shovels the glass in my face. "Happy?" She grumbles.

I take the glass from her hand. Not really, I want to say but don't. Today was going so well and now- this.

"I have to go." Santana walks to the door and I leap up quickly and follow her. "I'll see you around." She whispers as she pulls the door open.

Part of me thinks she doesn't actually want to go but part of me knows, already, that this is what she does. When conflict arises she flees. "Okay." I tell her. "See ya soon."

"Yeah." She mumbles and she's gone.

I stand there, in front of the closed door, thinking about what went wrong. Thinking about what I said and thinking about what I could possibly do to make it better.

I learned a lot about Santana today and it helps me understand how she works. Her mother and her father and their history with her have formed her into the person she is today. That is both good and bad. She wants to be happy like her dad wants her to be and she wants to please her mom by taking over the insurance company. But those two things don't necessarily go hand in hand.