Chapter 10: Pride & Envy
"Brittany!" Rachel yelled through the bathroom door. "What are you doing? You've been in there for twenty minutes."
There was no way I had been in the bathroom for that long. "Just a second," I called back.
Rachel opened the door. My sweatpants were off and balled up on top of the sink and I was sitting on the edge of the bathtub with my foot up on the counter. It was at least two weeks since I had been bit and my cat bite was still tender. It was hard to clean. It hurt. And I was trying to put the bandage on, but it kept sticking on the wrong spot. If I didn't do it right then my shoe wouldn't fit.
"Let me see that." Rachel set her bathroom caddy on the counter and grabbed the bandage from me. "You cleaned it, right?"
I nodded.
"That cat is such a fuss," Rachel began. She didn't like Lord Tubbington. "Wouldn't it be much easier to leave him at your dad's house with your sister?"
No. "Hailey isn't home enough."
"Still." Rachel grabbed my ankle and perched my foot against her thigh. She unpeeled the half stuck bandage and started to poke around the bite with her thumb.
"Ow!" I jerked my foot off of her thigh. "I can do it." I didn't want her poking it.
"I need to see if it's infected." She sounded annoyed.
I have had my fair share of annoyed-at-me-Rachel for the past few days. "It's okay." I reached for the bandage, but she held it away from me.
"Brittany." She patted her thigh. "I'm serious. Put your foot back up."
"So am I." I stared at the door. I was already grumpy from my foot still being sore. "I'll do it myself in my room." I stood up and held my hand out for the bandages.
"Sit down," Rachel demanded. "Please." Then she asked nicely.
It was easier just to sit down than to argue with her. If I walked out now then she would spend the rest of the day being mad at me. Like the time I told Rachel I was going to hang out with Quinn after work instead of heading over to her house right away. Rachel didn't talk to me the entire night when I had shown up. We just watched movies and didn't order pizza like we had planned, because I had shown up too late to order pizza.
I sat back down on the edge of the tub and Rachel squatted by my foot. She gently moved her fingers around the bite this time. "It doesn't look infected." I watched her as she stuck one side of the wrap to the bottom of my foot. She wrapped it slowly, careful to stick it exactly like she wanted it to be. I almost made a comment about this being the cat-wound version of Cinderella, but I kept quiet.
"I want to apologize for what happened the other night at dinner," she said.
What? Rachel never apologized.
"You don't need to," I responded. And she didn't need to. I was the one who had insisted she say those things and it wasn't like she was wrong. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that maybe I really was in a little bubble. Especially after what Santana had said about thinking our relationship was in a bubble. Sure, Santana and me were the most important part of our relationship, but obviously it affected other people.
"No, I do. It was uncalled for. I shouldn't have said those things in front of everyone. You're my best friend and I don't want you to think I don't respect you. Work is stressful, Finn is driving me insane, and living with four girls who can't stand to spend more than two seconds speaking with me isn't my idea of home sweet home."
Best friend? Really? Nobody had ever said I was their best friend before.
"I just-." She finished with the bandage and smoothed it with her fingers. "I'm sorry and I won't do something like that again."
Rachel wasn't someone who said things that were really bothering her even if she made those things blatantly obvious. Like Finn. I knew she was dying for someone to really talk to her about it, but at the same time she would never start that conversation.
"Why is Finn driving you insane?" I asked, because now I really did feel like her best friend.
She took in a breath and let it out. "I overheard him at the housewarming party talking about Quinn. They used to date and he didn't disagree when Sam said she was the hottest girl at the party. Later that night I saw Finn talking, flirting, with Quinn. So I told him that it'd be best if he didn't stay the night. Now he keeps leaving me voicemails saying whether or not he works the next day."
"So he wants to hang out!" I encouraged her. "And maybe he did disagree later. If Sam said that Quinn was the prettiest I would agree and I would also think that all of the girls were pretty." That was true. Though when it really came down to it, I thought Santana was one of the prettiest people in the world, hands down. "Maybe he thinks you're the most beautiful instead."
Rachel let out a shy laugh. "I don't know." She stood up. "I do need to shower though or I'll be late for work."
I took that as my cue to get up. I headed to the bathroom door and before I shut it I poked my head in. "The girls like that you're here, I promise. Even if it doesn't seem like it sometimes. They wouldn't have moved in with you if they didn't want to."
Rachel smiled and nodded and I shut the door.
"Your pants!" She yelled from inside the bathroom.
I opened the door, snatched my sweatpants from the sink and put them on. And then I hopped down the steps two at a time, gripping onto the railing extra tight when I reached the last few steps. The last time I had jumped down the stairs, I slipped and fell on my butt and Mercedes had come running out of the kitchen scared and then angry.
But I made it safely this time and headed for the couch. I sat down and not even a moment later Quinn walked out of her room. She looked like she was still sleeping. Her hair was everywhere. This had to be the first time I had woken up before her.
"Good morning!" I chirped at her, and when she winced, I figured that after work last night she must have had a few drinks. Either that or she was sick.
"What day is it?" she croaked and wavered over to the couch. She was definitely hung over, not sick.
"Saturday," I told her. She sat next to me and shoved her hands into her face. "Be right back," I said and hopped up from the couch.
Water and medicine was the only way Quinn wasn't going to feel completely awful for the rest of the day, so I made my way into the kitchen.
Santana was cooking an egg and the kitchen smelled like breakfast. When I walked behind her I pinched her butt and then darted away before she could do anything.
"Brittany!" She had tried to stifle her squeal halfway through my name. Then she pointed the spatula at me. "Don't." She made a serious face and turned back to her frying pan. "Oh!" She turned back around when I was pulling medicine out of the cabinet. "My mom invited us over for lunch and- are you sick?" She looked at the bottle I had just pulled out of the cabinet.
"It's for Quinn," I said and grabbed a glass for water. "And fun!" I responded to the lunch thing. That would be fun and I liked the idea of her mom inviting us.
I spent most of my time before lunch doing nothing and sitting on the couch with Quinn. Santana joined us with her egg and then Quinn kept making comments about how it smelled like vomit. Then Santana and I got ready and we left.
When Santana pulled up into her mom's driveway the curtain from the front window flung open. But they shut so quickly that if I hadn't known any better I would have thought it was the wind. Seconds later, as expected, Marcus swung the door open and leapt off the porch. He had a Spiderman Halloween costume on, with one of those plastic half-masks. I was kind of impressed that he remembered. The last day I had been here, before Santana and me moved out, he had said the next time I would see him I might not recognize him because he would be Spiderman.
He ran up to the car. Since he was so little he could barely see into it. But he held up three popsicles and knocked them against the window.
Santana laughed and I carefully opened my door so I didn't hit him.
"Here!" He held up one to me. Thankfully it was still wrapped in its paper wrapper. "This one is Santana's." He held up another one.
"Are you going to wear that to school?" I reached down and pinched the fabric of his costume. School was starting soon.
"What!" He scowled and slammed his mask down over his face. "No! I don't go to school!"
I laughed and handed Santana her popsicle after she walked around the car.
"How are you going to eat your popsicle with your mask on, you little freak?" Santana flicked the plastic mask that was now covering his face.
"Ugh!" He flicked back at her and then flipped the mask back up to rest on the top of his head. "It's hard to breathe in there."
Both Santana and me laughed and the three of us started toward the front door. It had been left wide open. "School is for losers," he sang and jumped up the step.
"What?" I couldn't believe he had said that. I thought all little kids thought school was exciting. "School is fun."
He reached for my hand when I walked in the house. Sometimes he held my hand when we went into different rooms in Santana's house and sometimes he ran like a maniac and sometimes he held Santana's hand. This time he held my hand for a second and then sprinted off towards the kitchen.
Santana was about to say something, but Marcus came sprinting back. He ran straight to Santana and punched her in the thigh. "Your papa is here," he whispered and then sprinted off again.
She froze. She looked like she was about to sprint out the front door. Her face went flush. "We can leave, Britt." She looked back at me, completely panicked.
Her mom walked into the room and there was no way we could leave now. "Brittany!" Her mom walked up to me and gave me a hug. "I love your shirt." She stepped back and admired the sloth on my shirt.
"It's for work." I grinned so big. "We're doing the Seven Deadly Sins theme."
She grinned just as big as I was and said that I must be Sloth.
She hugged Santana next. "Your father and abuela are here." And then her mom said something in Spanish. "Come help me in the kitchen, girls."
"Why is he here?" Santana quietly begged for an answer. I wished she had looked at me so I could give her a reassuring smile or at the very least a nod. I knew the last time I had met her father hadn't been ideal, but he hadn't been completely awful. Plus, her mom was really nice. I doubted that he would say something too scary in front of her. Maybe this could be a good thing.
Her mom hushed her and guided us into the kitchen. I kind of wanted Santana to have an answer about why her dad was here. I figured it would calm her down. But her mom does know their family a million times better than I do.
"It smells amazing," I said and walked up to the stove. There were lots of pans and lots of things cooking. Their house always smelled amazing. Like something spicy and sometimes like tortillas or even cinnamon.
Santana and her mom started talking again. It wasn't in Spanish, but I got the feeling that it wasn't something that I should overhear. So I excused myself and headed upstairs to the bathroom. I didn't like using the downstairs bathroom. It was way too nice and the last time I used it I broke a nail polish bottle in the sink.
I hopped up the last step and almost ran into the bathroom door before I noticed it was closed. I had been too busy looking at the family pictures on the wall.
The water was on. I could hear it. And then it shut off. The door opened.
An older woman jumped and grumbled when she saw me. She had to be in her late eighties. She had thick glasses, a dress that looked more like a fancy nightgown, and she was a lot shorter than I was. She mumbled some other things that I figured were in Spanish and also probably curse words. She had to be Santana's grandmother.
"Oh, sorry." I stepped back so she could get out of the bathroom. "I didn't mean to startle you. I'm here with Santana. I'm Brittany," I introduced myself and almost held my hand out before I remembered when I had tried to shake Santana's dad's hand and he hadn't wanted to.
She just gave me a grumpy nod and started to waddle out of the bathroom. How did she get up the stairs? Wasn't that dangerous? "Do you want some help down the stairs?" I asked.
She shook her head. And then she stopped. "Shit," she cursed and slowly turned back around. "Forgot to feed that stupid cat." Her voice was raspy and shaky, but not in an unsteady way. She looked at me for a few seconds. "Get down the bag of cat food." Her accent was thick. It was more noticeable now that she had spoken a full sentence. She said something in Spanish, rolled her eyes, and then said in the bathroom.
I immediately went in the bathroom and opened every cupboard until I found a small, purple, bag of cat food. It almost spilled, but I caught it right as it was falling. When I turned back to the hallway Santana's grandmother was staring at me and I was so thankful I hadn't spilled the cat food. "Where to now?" I asked.
"Follow me," she said.
I followed her. She walked really slowly. Now I was positive that there was no way she would be able to get down the stairs without someone's help.
"I have a cat too," I said. "His name is Lord Tubbington."
She turned and scowled at me before continuing. It made me smile.
"Now be very quiet. Whiskers is fragile. She doesn't need you stomping in there and giving her a heart attack."
I gave a quick nod.
She opened the door and pointed into the bedroom. It was the guest bedroom. It smelled like someone had left flowers in the room for way too long. The whole time I had stayed with Santana and her mom nobody had used it. It had always been empty. Now there were things strewn across the entire room. Bags, clothes, and a wig was hanging on the vanity mirror.
"It's on the dresser."
I tiptoed into the room. The cat wasn't anywhere to be found, so I tiptoed even lighter. I poured food in the bowl and then a necklace caught my attention. It was a cross with little turquoise gems. "This is pretty." I pointed to the necklace.
When I looked at her I knew she hadn't heard me.
"The necklace. It's pretty," I repeated myself. "Where did you get it?"
She wobbled in and picked it up. Her hands looked so old and wrinkled and her fingers were crooked. She held the cross in her palm. "There it is. I thought that little shit lost it." She said something about a spider and some other things in Spanish, and I knew she was talking about Marcus. "He either loses my jewelry or he's mouthing off about something. He spent the entire morning talking about some blonde girl." She looked up at me.
I didn't know how to respond. I wasn't sure if she was complaining or just stating a fact.
"That boy thinks you're something special." She smiled for the first time and then just stared at the necklace in her hand for a few minutes. "I got it from Santana's grandfather. He and I would go to antique stores every Tuesday afternoon." She pointed to the bottom of the dresser. "Under there, grab a box."
I dropped to my knees and looked under the dresser. There was a cloth jewelry box with faded rose designs. Had it been here the whole time? It was really dusty so it must have been. I pulled it out, stood up, and set it on the dresser.
She opened it and when she did there was so much jewelry. I bet that was why Santana had so much jewelry.
"This one is an amethyst." She set down the necklace and picked up a small purple rock. "I've had this ever since I can remember." She handed me the rock and then picked up a ring. "And this is a ring with the same type of stone." I loved how she talked. Her accent, how she said things. It was different.
She kept handing me different pieces of jewelry and had different stories for each one. It was amazing. My favorite was when she had told me she had stolen a ring from a pawn shop clerk because it was overpriced. She made it a point to say how clueless the guy had been handing her the ring and then walking in the back and not expecting her to steal it.
And then she went off on a tangent about smoking cigarettes. That was when I noticed Santana standing at the door. I smiled and gave her a small wave so I didn't interrupt her grandma.
"Lunch is ready." Santana walked up and grabbed her grandma's elbow. It was incredible to see how similar they were. "I'll help you down the stairs."
At first her grandma tried to say she could get down the stairs by herself, but right before the stairs she reached for Santana's arm. When we got to the kitchen, I didn't even notice her dad until we sat down. He looked just as intimidating as he had been at that work party, but I felt a little safer since there were a whole bunch of people around and since he didn't even notice me.
I sat between Marcus and Santana. Marcus had brought the half-melted popsicles to the table that we had left in the kitchen and then Santana's mom made him put them back in the freezer.
There was a lot of small talk with everyone and that made me feel even more comfortable. Santana kept giving me sneaky smiles and so I would tap her shin with my toe. And then Marcus kept chugging his milk and asking me to pour him glasses.
"You're going to get a stomach ache, Marcus," Santana's dad echoed across the table. Marcus froze and pulled the milk glass away from his mouth.
"Oh, let him be," Santana's mom responded without looking up from her plate.
"You're signed up for your classes this fall, Santana. Is that correct?" He turned his attention to Santana and suddenly the mood around the table shifted.
Santana nodded and shoveled a spoonful of food into her mouth. I knew Santana hadn't wanted to take classes. She had talked to her mom and me about wanting to take a year off from school.
"School is lame," Marcus whispered across me, to Santana, and suddenly I thought he was the sweetest little boy in the world. He saying that so Santana had someone on her side.
"What about your friend?" Santana's dad spoke after taking a bite.
Me? I peeked up to see Marcus was staring at me and so was Santana's dad. So was everyone.
"Her name is Brittany." Santana said.
Her dad ignored the comment. "So, are you taking classes?" He had already asked me this. At the work party. I already had said no.
"No," I said again. Did he want me to elaborate and explain.
"Why not?" He asked.
Yes, I needed an explanation.
"Because not everyone is forced to take classes when they don't want to," Santana snapped.
He didn't look at Santana and kept his eyes on me. "I find it hard to believe any parent not strongly encouraging their child to get a proper education." Finally he looked at Santana. "Even if it is only from a community college."
"My dad is really, really, busy," I said and then regretted saying it because I didn't want him to think I was implying that he wasn't busy.
"And your mother?" When he asked that he side-eyed Santana's mom as if she had done something wrong.
This was the first time someone had asked about my mom and didn't know she had passed away. It was kind of nice that someone didn't know. But I got a weird empty feeling in my stomach the second I realized I had to talk about her.
"She passed away recently." I said it quickly and then shoved a whole bunch of food in my mouth, just like Santana had done earlier, hoping that would make him not want to ask me questions. I felt nervous. I didn't want to say something weird or inappropriate.
"What happened?" Santana's grandma asked. It was the first time she had talked during the lunch.
"She was sad." My voice felt like it had a million little nerves shaking through it. "And upset. I think she thought it'd be easier," I stopped. I didn't know exactly what my mom had been thinking and I didn't want to assume. "She thought it'd be easier," I paused again and stabbed the food on my plate with my fork, "or not as confusing if she wasn't here. I think." I swallowed my food and my mouth felt so dry. It felt weird saying that. I glanced at Santana thinking she'd maybe nod or smile to approve of what I said, but she didn't do anything.
I had no clue what made me say that much. Maybe because I was around Santana and I trusted Santana and she already knew so it was okay. And maybe because I liked her family. Or maybe it was because I was so taken off guard I didn't have time to figure out I didn't want to answer it.
I wished I hadn't looked at Santana. Now that weird felt even bigger. And saying that out loud made me realize how unfair and stupid the situation was. It didn't even have to happen. My hand was shaking from being so nervous, my eyes wanted to cry, and my body wanted to go hide.
"After lunch I'll take you back upstairs," Santana's grandmother spoke to me. "There's a jewelry box shoved far in one of the closets that I'll have you help me pull out."
I nodded and then Santana's mom started up another conversation. I was relieved that nobody apologized or asked more. When I peeked up at Santana's dad he pulled his eyes away from me before we made eye contact.
I tried to set my fork on my plate, but it fell off the edge and then clanked to the floor. "Sorry." I smiled and before I could duck down to pick up the fork Marcus was out of his chair and grabbed it for me.
He took the fork from his plate and put it on my plate and then took the dirty fork to the kitchen.
"That boy should not be wearing a costume all hours of the day," I heard Santana's grandma start to complain. She went on about it for a while.
Marcus came back with a new fork and went back to eating and everyone forgot that I was a nervous, clumsy, wreck.
I jumped a little when Santana touched my knee with her hand and squeezed. I exchanged a sneaky smile with her and we finished our lunch.
After that I went upstairs with Santana and her grandma, looked through jewelry, and then Quinn called and asked us to meet her at her mom's house to help her pick out a work costume for tonight. It figured would be fun to help Quinn pick out a costume. And even though I liked being in Santana's house I felt like I needed a little fresh air.
So we said goodbye to everyone, except Santana's dad since he had left before us, and we drove to Quinn's mom's house.
We parked, walked inside and this was the room that I remembered and the house where Quinn had had her party. It was still a huge house and beautiful, but it wasn't a mansion and it didn't have an elevator like her dad's house had. I bet Quinn would make the perfect president's daughter. Her dad had a huge house and she was always so well-poised, except for the one time when she pulled Santana off of the back of a bar stool. But those were extreme circumstances.
I walked straight for Quinn's bed and sat on the foot of it. I was so exhausted. I wanted to lie down and take a nap. I wondered if Santana and Quinn would want to do that.
"You're really going to wear that, Brittany?" Quinn smiled, laughed, and then walked over to her closet.
Santana slumped over to the bed and plopped down right next to me. Maybe we really could take a nap.
"Yeah," I squeaked through a yawn. Then I decided to give up on sitting and laid back onto Quinn's bed. Quinn had a lot of beds. One at our house, one here, and one at her dad's. "What are you wearing?" I closed my eyes. They were so heavy. I wished it was already Sunday and Santana and me could be doing my birthday surprise and I didn't have a full, busy, night's worth of work ahead of me. "We should get energy drinks before work."
The bed shifted and Santana laid down next to me. And then the bed shifted more and I felt her head rest on my arm. I smiled.
"Uh," Quinn's voice was softer since she was probably now in her closet and pulling out clothes. "I was just going to wear a tiara and get all dolled up."
Wait. "Why? I thought you were the Pride sin?" I was expecting Quinn to say she was wearing an American flag shirt or another country shirt. Or maybe a sports team. Why would she wear a tiara?
"It's supposed to mean vanity. It wouldn't be a deadly sin if I had pride in a country, unless maybe it's a bad country."
That made sense. Our costumes were supposed to be sins. I lifted my head a little and looked down at my shirt. I laid my head back down and closed my eyes. "Should I change? Does my shirt look stupid?"
"No," Santana mumbled just loud enough for me to hear.
"Your shirt fits you," Quinn spoke seconds later.
It fit me, but did it look stupid?
"What Quinn is trying to say," Santana mumbled again, "is that she is naturally conceited and therefore does not need to dress up out of the ordinary-"
Quinn cut her off. "I didn't mean it like that. Her shirt isn't stupid." I opened my eyes. "Your shirt isn't stupid. Don't change it," she looked at me. "It's easy and simple and cute. It fits you. Rachel could take a few pointers from you. All of us could."
That made me smile and feel a million times better about what I had chosen to wear.
There was a soft knock from the door. I turned my head to look at it and had to look over Santana. It was an older woman, who if I had to guess, would be Quinn's mother. She stood like Quinn, had the same hesitant smile as Quinn, and the same piercing green eyes.
I sat up and snaked my arm from underneath Santana. I hadn't met Quinn's mom yet.
"Hi girls." Her mom looked from Santana to me to Quinn. "Quinn, when you get a moment could you come downstairs?" Her mom had a soft voice.
"I need to get to work." Quinn didn't even look at her mom. She was shuffling through clothes in a dresser by her closet.
"It will only take a second," her mom insisted, but it wasn't demanding. It was still soft.
"I don't have time, mother," Quinn snapped.
My eyes widened and jumped back and forth between Quinn and her mom. I glanced at Santana and Santana wasn't even paying attention. She was lying there with her eyes closed. Quinn was going to make her mom upset. I was sure she didn't want to do that. My heart started to pick up and thud in my chest.
"Before you leave. It will only take a second," her mom spoke and my eyes snapped to her. She looked so timid, like a deer. And then she just left.
I knew I was sitting awkward and stiff and Quinn kept glancing over at me as she was digging through her dresser. "I'll be right back." Quinn grabbed her makeup bag and left the room.
I laid back down, this time resting my head on Santana's shoulder.
My heart hadn't slowed down. Even though I had been awful at saying things to my mom, I knew saying what Quinn had said would have been scary. I kept imagining Quinn's mom busting back in the room. She would be calm at first and then she would say something that didn't match the way she was pretending to be. And then she would kick Quinn out of the house.
"Do you know Judy?" Santana hummed. She started to comb her fingers through my hair.
I closed my eyes. "Quinn's mom?"
"Yeah."
"No."
Santana continued to run her fingers through my hair. It so badly made me want to fall asleep, but even more importantly it made me stop thinking of these horrible what-if scenarios in which Quinn's mother was my mother.
I took a shallow breath and scooted a little closer so the corner of my mouth was right against Santana's collarbone. "Does Quinn not like her mom?"
Santana spoke against my hair. It was like she was kissing the top of my head. "She does. She's just frustrated."
I wanted to ask Santana to explain, but it was Quinn's question to answer. Instead I just mumbled something that sounded like okay and relaxed completely on top of her.
"My abuela likes you," Santana spoke into the silence.
It startled me awake.
"Sorry," she whispered.
I smiled. "She was feisty," I responded. Santana was being sweet. There was no way her grandma liked me. Sure, she didn't hate me, but I think like is a bit too strong of a word.
"My abuela doesn't talk to anybody. She won't even talk to my brother's wives. But she spent way too much time trying to convince you her cat was twenty-five years old, her costume jewelry was worth a fortune, and there was no proof that cigarettes cause lung cancer."
I laughed for a little bit. Her cat looked so creepy. I had seen it poke its head out from under the bed right before we left.
"So yes." Santana ran her fingertips up and down my back. "You are very good at talking."
I didn't know it was possible for hearts to smile until right now.
I opened my eyes and kissed her neck. It was a little cooler than where my cheek had been resting so it made my lips tingle. I kissed her neck once more with the softest kiss I could give and then laid my head back down on her shoulder.
"That's all?" Her chest lifted with a laugh.
The corner of my lips pulled into smirkiest-smirk ever. I liked the idea of her wanting me to kiss her more. But I also knew Quinn probably wouldn't feel comfortable if she walked in on us. And I knew Santana wouldn't feel comfortable if Quinn walked in. Even I wasn't entirely comfortable with kissing with other people around.
I lifted my head back up from her shoulder and lowered my lips to hers. The kiss matched the soft kiss I had given to her neck. "We can't make out here," I spoke into her lips.
When I pulled away from the kiss I saw her eyes instantly jerk towards the open door and I saw a flash of panic on her face. I think she had forgotten where we were, which made sense, because she looked really sleepy.
She frowned.
So I leaned back and I pecked her lips with mine. I could do a quick kiss. I pecked her again. It wouldn't count as making out if I just gave Santana a whole bunch of small kisses. So I did that.
She giggled and I giggled.
And then I decided to give her one last sneaky kiss. It was longer this time. We had been doing sneaky smiles all day and that always should lead to sneaky kisses. And I wanted to really to do more than peck her because it was hard not to do when her lips were so close.
Hmm. She let out a noise and it caused my stomach to twist. It caught me completely off guard. I bit her lip so she didn't notice my lips shaking. I let her lip go with a pop.
"Oops," I whispered through a shallow breath.
Her fingers slid over the back of my neck and she pulled me against her mouth and this time she pushed her tongue against mine. I had to force my hand to grab a handful of her shirt instead of finding its way down between her thighs.
We rolled. Now I was on my back and she was halfway on top of me. Where were her hands? She dipped her tongue back into my mouth. I clenched my thighs together, but quickly unclenched them and moved my knees apart for her in case she wanted to touch.
The kiss was so wet, but I couldn't think about anything other than how wet my underwear were starting to get. I spread my legs even further and inched my hips toward her. It was crazy how she made me feel. One second I wanted to fall asleep on her and then the next second I wanted her to push her fingers inside me.
My heart started to slam against my chest. Maybe it was because I knew how desperate my body was acting, or maybe it was because I wanted her to do something to me that she hadn't done yet.
She kissed me deep enough to send goosebumps all over my body. When her fingertips tickled the back of neck it sent shivers between my legs. "H-h-mm." I hummed in the middle of our kiss. I patted around for Santana's hand and at the same time moved my lips back against hers so the kissing didn't stop.
Finally I found her hand and I pulled it in between my legs.
"Britt." Santana stopped kissing.
She didn't have to say anything for me to realize why she was saying my name and why she stopped kissing.
I pulled my lips into my mouth just so I wouldn't be tempted to kiss again. I felt a little disoriented and really, really, really fouces in on her lips.
"Girls," a voice called into the room.
It wasn't Quinn.
I shot up so quickly. I didn't even know how I got from the bed to my feet without falling. My heart was hammering and it felt like it was loud enough for everyone to hear.
Santana got up from the bed too, but not as panicked and jumpy as I had. She looked way more composed.
"Sorry," I whispered. I couldn't make myself look Quinn's mom in the eye. I wasn't sure what else to say and I didn't know if apologizing was the right thing to do. "Sorry," I whispered again, but knew she couldn't hear it.
"There are sandwiches downstairs if you're hungry." She smiled and it was the same exact smile she had given when I had seen her earlier, maybe a little more timid, if that were possible.
I peeked over at Santana. She still looked so composed. Did I look composed? I didn't feel composed. Why did I do that? I could still feel my heart slamming. Slam, slam, slam.
"Thanks Judy," Santana responded. I didn't even have to look up from the floor to know she was smiling.
The floor creaked and then footsteps walked away.
Was she mad? She had to be mad. Maybe. I peeked at Santana again. I knew Santana would be upset. If I was a little shaken right now then Santana was really shaken. She didn't want her family to find out. Were Quinn's mom and Santana's family friends? They had to be.
I put my hand on Santana's back and started to lead both of us toward Quinn's door. I didn't know if saying anything would help. I didn't want to make a bigger deal out of what had just happened than needed to be and I didn't want to make less of a deal out of it. I wanted it be as much of a deal as Santana needed it to be.
I noticed my lips were still tucked into my mouth. "Sorry," I whispered to Santana. I was apologizing for getting caught, because Quinn's mom wasn't going to apologize and she didn't need to anyways.
Santana let out a small breathy laugh and we stopped just outside of Quinn's door. "If you weren't such a horndog," she teased and gently pushed my shoulder.
I was shocked. I heard myself gasp. I pushed her back. "You started it."
"What?" Santana hissed a little louder than a whisper. She knew she had been loud and covered her mouth.
"Yooouuuu," I dragged out the word, "started it..." And then I smiled, and tried as hard as I could to hold in a laugh.
Santana dropped her jaw and I could tell she was having a hard time keeping from laughing too. "No," she collected herself. "You had your pouty lips all up on this," she used her hand to gesture and circle her face and neck.
I shook my head, no.
"What!" She hissed loudly again. It was cute to see her get so defensive. She pinched her eyebrows together and was waiting for me to explain.
I think it was a good thing she was being so playful after us getting caught. It felt like she took what we had seriously, which I already knew she did. But I liked that despite how closed off and how many walls she has, or had, she was acting like our relationship was more important than what other people were going to say.
"It's your fault for being so hot." I said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "What did you expect me to do?"
She rolled her eyes. "Oh my God." She lifted her hand and started to use her thumb to rub just below my lip. Her forehead creased. "It's not coming off."
When she pulled her hand away I rubbed the heel of my palm on the same spot.
"I have makeup remover in the car. It's just lipstick," she said.
I pulled my bottom lip as far as I could into my mouth. I didn't want to go downstairs and eat sandwiches with a huge obvious lipstick smear, for the same reason I hadn't wanted to go to work with a whole bunch of hickies on my neck after that first sexy night with Santana.
She reached up to rub my lip one last time with her thumb.
Someone cleared their throat. It made both of us jump and Santana snap her hand away from my lips.
Quinn was standing by the top of the stairs. She wasn't smiling or anything. It made me a little uneasy the way she was looking at us. I couldn't tell what she was thinking and I didn't know how to stand or if I needed to say something.
"Yes?" Santana interrupted the silence, thank God. My heart had started to pick up again.
"You guys should leave." Her words were flat and empty, like she had planned what to say and been practicing it the entire time on her way up the stairs.
Leave? What, why? "Why?" I asked and it came out differently than I had meant it to. I didn't want her to think I wasn't going to leave if she wanted.
"Why?" She used the same tone, but this time let out a little laugh. Not a nervous laugh, or a giggle, or a surprised laugh. It was an empty laugh.
My heart was in my throat and I didn't know if I could say anything else without my voice cracking. Usually Quinn was so straightforward even if she had a secret or wasn't saying something. This was different.
"I'll meet you at work, I still need to change." And that was that. She walked towards a closet and pulled out a few towels and didn't acknowledge us any further.
Now Santana looked like she had done something wrong. Ashamed. It bothered me that Quinn made her feel like that and I wanted to tell Santana she shouldn't feel like that.
We left. We didn't say anything and when we had gotten to the bottom of the stairs I had a tiny little panic attack, because I was worried we would run into Quinn's mom. Even though Quinn didn't say why she was asking us to leave, I knew it had to do with me and Santana kissing in her room.
Both of us were silent across the front lawn and I think I held my breath the whole way. It felt so good to sit down and shut the door to Santana's car. At first I wanted to cry. I had been holding in so much, but then I felt my face getting hot. I didn't know how to react, what to think.
"She is such a fucking drama queen." Santana slammed her car door shut and yanked her keys out of her purse. She looked so angry. "It's not even a big fucking deal." I was relieved she was angry now and not ashamed, even if part of me knew they were connected.
Us kissing wasn't a big deal? Santana threw her purse in the back seat. My purse! I had forgotten it. "I forgot my purse inside," I said.
Santana's jaw clenched and she let out a heavy sigh. She threw her hands up in defeat and fell back into her seat.
"I'll be right back." I reached for the door as slowly as I could, wanting to make sure I wasn't leaving at a bad time. But I did need my purse. It had my work keys and car keys and wallet and phone.
"Okay," Santana hushed through her still clenched teeth.
I opened the door, carefully shut it, and then ran to Quinn's front door. Did I knock when I got there? But before I had decided I was already at the front door and rang the doorbell. I turned back to look at Santana, but her car was too far away from me to really see her.
The door opened. I was glad it was Quinn. Sort of. I think. "I forgot my purse." I was a little out of breath.
Quinn stepped back and gestured for me to come in. I walked in and headed straight for the couch in the living room.
"What were you thinking, Brittany?" Quinn snapped.
I picked up my purse and turned to face her. "Sorry," I said and I knew I sounded timid. It gave me weird deja vu feelings about her mom. I didn't need to act scared of Quinn, because I wasn't. So I straightened up and shrugged.
"You do know my mom repeats absolutely everything to everyone at church. Santana's family goes to that church. Your sister goes to that church." She crossed her arms and then let out a frustrated sigh. "You have lipstick all over your face, come on." She walked towards me, grabbed my wrist and then pulled me to the guest bathroom.
She jerked open one of the drawers and pulled out a little towel, wet the towel, grabbed my chin with one of her hands and then started to rub off the lipstick that was there.
"I wanted my mom to like you," Quinn said.
She didn't like me anymore?
Quinn must have known what I was thinking, because she spoke like I had said that thought out loud. "I mean, she'll like you. She likes everyone." She ran the towel under the water again and then set the towel on the sink. "I just don't want her thinking things about you and telling everyone those things." Quinn held her breath. Her eyes started to water.
I didn't know why she was so upset. And I didn't know why it would matter that much what her mom thought of me if her mom was going to still like me. And I didn't want Quinn to be upset. And I definitely didn't want to be the reason she was upset.
"Bad things?" I asked. Were people going to think bad things?
She took a second to respond. "In my room?" Her voice cracked, but she stopped. When before it felt like my heart was in my throat, now it felt like my heart had fallen out. Or at least Quinn had pulled it out. "And on my bed?" she whispered and her voice shook so badly.
Oh my God. My heart stopped panicking and stopped racing. Really? In her room and on her bed. That was what really bothered her right now.
"I didn't know," I spoke softly.
"What? You didn't know the door was open, or that other people were around?" Quinn started to list things and it was to cover up what she accidentally implied.
I didn't know she would be so upset if I kissed Santana. I didn't know she would care. But that was stupid. She had asked me before why I picked Santana.
She liked me.
"You should go," Quinn turned to the mirror and wipe at the smeared mascara under her eyes.