New chapter - Santana goes on holiday. Barely any Brittany in this one, but there will be plenty of her in the next chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or anything to do with it. This is entirely fictional and in no way part of the show Glee. But if I did I would totally rock that show.

Chapter Ten: Getting Over And Under

I leant forward, pulling my knees up to my chest, resting my elbows to my kneecaps, rubbing my eyes with the balls of my hand. The plain white sheet draped over my legs, covering them. Jesus Christ. The dream, it was so real. I shivered, realising that despite it being boiling outside, I was cold. I reached over towards my phone, hoping to see any signs of life come from it. I checked the time, wincing when the phone screen lit up. 4.04am. Great. I put it back down, after checking SMS inbox. Nothing. She hadn't even been thinking of me, despite her not being able to get off my mind since she left me a few mornings ago.

She doesn't care about you. She never has. She's straight. She likes boys. She likes a boy. Deal with it. My inner monologue was telling the truth, but I didn't want to hear it. I brought my right hand up to wipe sweat drop off my cheek when several more came flooding down. Only then did I notice I was crying. Over Brittany. Again. I thought I'd gotten over this stage. My empty heart started echoing the sound of my sobs. I placed my head in my hands, letting all my emotions go. I needed her, right now, her slender, pale arms wrapped around my waist, holding me tighter to her. But I was what felt like a million miles away.

I got up the next morning and put my more-than-revealing short jean skirt on, along with a black tank top. My cleavage was my signature thing so I wore a balcony bra to enhance it. We walked down to the town, the tall beige buildings that looked like they had so much history behind it, towered over me and my family - this is what it must feel like to be Berry. My mother and father talked at me during lunch, I played with my spaghetti whilst leaning the side of my head against my palm.

"Mija, stop playing with your food. You're not twelve." My father spoke, his voice more strict than usual. He had always been tough - he was a miltary doctor in the Cold War, well the last period of it. He was even there when the Berlin Wall fell. He always used to ramble on about the political conflict and military tension and how freakin' hard it was. Once I answered back to him telling him he didn't have to be there if he didn't want too and he slapped me across the face. He stil believed in physical punishment, despite it being like illegal or some shit. I gradually learned over the years of living with him that it was probably best not to talk to him. "Do not speak until spoken too" is what he used to yell at me. He'd never really been around in my life, my mother had been my primary caregiver for the first 4 years of my life, but then she got a job and for all intense and purposes, fucked off. I spent most of my childhood with various nannies, all of which I hated and managed to push out by being a terrible child. I guess in someways meeting Brittany had been the best thing that had ever happened to me, she'd always been everything to me. A friend, a lover, a nanny, even sometimes a mother.

For the last couple of years my father had been missing even more so than usual. I always suspected he was cheating on my mother, and I knew that she suspected it too. In some ways I felt sorry for her, but in others I knew that she could leave him, she was just too pathetic too. He had money and she didn't, it was probably one of the reasons she married him - of course I'd never say anything to her. I was a bitch, but there was a line that shouldn't be crossed. She'd live with wealth for the last 20 years, there wasn't any way she could suddenly go without - so she faked a smile and carried on pretending that we were all a happy family. This took a toll on me relationship with her, she had no friends, so it's not like she could take a night off and rant to them - so instead she gave it all to me. Probably explains why I'm such a bitch, I just have too many feelings, all of which I hide under my bitch face.

"MIJA! God damnit!" My father yelled at me, slamming his balls up fist against the dining table. I jumped, causing my fork to hit the white cloth that covered the restaurant table, staining it.

"¡Jesucristo! Eres tan estúpido. Parece Brittany se está frotando apagado en usted." His eyes were burrowed, his eyes looked crazed. Hearing that just made me snap. I stood up, slamming both fists against the table, mimicking my father.

"¡Vete al infierno 'papa'," I air quoted the papa, "You haven't been a father in a veyr long time. Don't think you can just walk back into my life after years of neglect and start acting like one. It doesn't work like that." Both my mother and father's mouth dropped as I spoke the last word. My body was shaking, the anger was still building up inside of me. I spun around and marched down the street. As I walked down the bumpy road, my flip flop getting stuck in the cracks every now and then. I thought to myself; I'm hot teenager. I'm in Ibiza. This equalled up to me getting incredibly drunk.

I ended up at my hotel room. As I peeled off my clothing, my phone rang. I didn't both to check who it was, I just answered. It was the first phone call I had since I'd been here. Someone wanted to talk to me.

"Hello?"

"Um, hey. It's Puck." The voice spoke.

"Oh hey Puckerman. What's up?" I have to admit, I was slightly disappointed at who it was, I'd heard nothing from Britt in a week and a half.

"Nothing, just wondering where you were? Someone said you'd gone on holiday." This was weird, Puck never showed that he cared about anyone.

"Yeah, I'm in Ibiza for 3 weeks."

"Oh right, I was wondering if you wanted to hook up." Ah of course, there we go. He didn't care - he wanted a booty call. "Hey Santana? Do you know where Britt is?"

As he said her name it stung. "No, I don't sorry." I said, almost snapping back at him.

"Oh right okay. Well see you when you get back." And with that he hung up. Only then did I realise he'd probably ring Britt and get some ass from her. The thought made me cringe, bile rose in the back of my throat. I'm threw my phone to the bed and rushed to the toilet. I threw my head over the sink and wretched several times. My hands were secure against each side, gripping the porcelain tight. My knuckles were white where I was gripping too hard, the bone pushing against my skin.

I raised my head, staring at the face looking back at me. It was relatively pretty - she had naturally pouted lips, tanned olive skin and dark brown eyes. Her eyelashes were long and thick, and her hair tied up into a side ponytail. Big, gold, hoops hanging from pierced ears, her eyebrows were perfect - no stray hairs anyway. Her eyes though, they were so full of sadness. There were no tears present, but there was no shine in them that I had previously seen in photos. Her eyes have that look of someone who is dead inside. It was almost painful just looking at her. I closed my eyes, and I saw the face mimick my movement. I turned around and headed back towards the bed, realising I was standing in my underwear. I brought my hand up to the side of my head, grasping the hairband that was holding up my hair. I yanked and my hair fell across my shoulders. I couldn't help but think of the face I saw in the mirror. I welled up, my eyes clouding with tears. One trickled down my face, over my cheek and down, curving into my upper lip. I sat on the edge of the bed, and let the waterworks begin.

I heard my mother and father return around two hours later. The door slammed and I heard shouting in Spanish, jesus - couldn't they just get over it. I grabbed my tight red dress that clung to ever curve on my body. Its tightness was like a corset, holding everything in, and accentuating my figure. It displayed my breasts in all their glory, proudly cupping them as if they were the firmest, roundest boobs in all the world. It gripped my arse, squeezing the cheeks together like two delicious hardboiled eggs vacuum-packed. It smoothed my body into an hourglass. I felt like a seductress, the dress giving me such a boost of confidence. I loved it. I grabbed a cardigan, just in case it got cold later and ran out the door. Walking down the illuminated streets, neon signs hanging off every available spot - something I'd never noticed in daylight. There were hundreds of people crowding the street, the street was so alive. I could hear the rhythm and beat of every song that was placing across various clubs. My feet automatically started moving with the beat, they were touching the ground with every beat in the song. I recognised it instantly. Mr Saxobeat. What a tune. I instantly headed to where the music was coming from.

Ironically, the place was Called Club Brit, supposedly a club for British people considering Ibiza was a hot spot for them for Summer or something. As I entered, I was immediately ID'd, everyone in this place was clearly no older than 17. Luckily, I'd developed early and had a fake ID since the age of 15. The bouncer let me in, his big bald head reflecting all the colours of the rainbow. As I entered I felt eyes on me, immediately most of the dancefloor stopped and gazed at me. I knew how hot I was, and apparently, so did they. I walked up to the bar, ordering an Appletini - girly yet classic drink, sweet and sour at the same time. Almost two minutes after ordering, a hobbit of a guy strode over to me. He was obviously cocky and way too confident. I hated him already.

"Hey sexy. I like your clothes. But they'd look better on my bedroom floor." He winked. I watched a drop of sweat dropped down the side of his forehead. He physically repulsed me.

"¿Perdón?" I narrowed my eyes slightly, as if I didn't understand him. Being bilingual was sometimes useful.

"You," he pointed to me, "and me." Gesturing to himself. He then took his hands, placing them shoulderwidth apart in mid air. He thrusted his crotch and hit his hands with it.

"Look dwarf, if I wanted a one night stand with you, I'd have to report myself to the sex offenders list for being a kiddy fiddler. Now I know you think you have what it takes to be with a girl like me, but honestly? I'm hot as hell, and your needle dick wouldn't be enough to satisfy a blow up doll, which I'm sure you know due to the thousands probably stacked up in your closet. Now run a long to your mates," I pointed to a group of men glaring at me in the back corner, "and considering closing time is about four hours away, you'll need that time to waddle back over there due to the lack of length you possess height-wise." I pasted on my queen bitch face and smirked. He did as he was told and turned away from me, scurrying back to his friends.

With that, I took a large gulp of Appletini. I didn't get a break for the next hour, men wafting over to me. They started to die down as word had probably got around that I'm a cock tease. About half an hour after the last pathetic weasel tried to chat me up, a tall, brooding, handsome British guy walked up and stood beside me, casually leaning against the bar right next to my elbow.

"Hey. I'm Bart." He spoke confidently.

"Bart? The British man Bart?" I laughed elegantly, letting his eyes wander down my top, leaving them settled on my cleavage. I coughed and he retracted them back to my face.

"Yeah. I was terrorised throughout secondary school for it." I looked confused, not knowing the British school years. Apparently they had some type of primary school. Anyway that wasn't the matter at hand. He smiled at me, showing me a set of white teeth. He was moderately attractive, and had a sense of humour - so I decided to flirt a little. He had wonderful blue eyes, but what I found strange was what a dynamic personality he had. He was captivating company. He was totally blase about sex too, and talked about it frequently and openly - but not suggestively. His jokes had me in fits of laughter, and as I noticed the lines around his eyes crinkling with warmth, I found myself starting to like him. My body responded warmly to him as we played with the straws in our drinks, I couldn't help but wonder if he was potential boyfriend material. It felt good to meet someone new and exciting, and I didn't want to rush it, but enjoy it at my leisure.

I flirted with him lightly, and gently teased him about the way he glanced at my cleavage, and when he put his hand on my waist to kiss me goodbye, I leaned in and squeezed his hip gently. We agreed to meet up for drinks a few days later.

When we next met up, we both sat down on barstools at a local club and started joking about. We left about an hour after getting there, walking down to the beach. We both sat down in sync and he whipped out a cigarette.

"Sorry, you don't mind do you? I smoke when I drink." He questioned. I wondered what look I had on my face that made him ask.

"Oh no go ahead." I smiled. He smiled back, however it was more of a forced little lopsided grin. He lit the cigarette. We sat silently for a while, listening to the water in front of us. He smoked quietly, moving his hand to my shoulder. I felt safe somehow even with a guy I only met a couple of nights ago.

"I want to tell you something." He said. Oh shit, I bet he's an axe-wielding murderer or rapist, just my fucking luck.

"Okay.." I trailed off, leaving room for him to speak. His arm was still around my shoulder but it suddenly seemed heavy. The cigarette smoke was making my eyes water. I could feel the heat of him, imagine the touch of his skin. I would have literally done most things right then to feel him touch me, put his hands on my face, let his hands wander. I wanted to feel him inside of me, for the first time in my life, I wanted a guy inside of me. It was all I could think about.

"I don't know if I can be your friend." He whispered, the words beginning a process I knew he didn't want to start. I let my head drop.

He turned my head, pushing his tough lips to mine. He kissed me hard. Letting his tongue find my own. My breath quickened and I tasted metal, fear pulsed through me. He was urgent, lying on top of me and switching from one hand to the other, tracing my skin up and down. It felt wrong somehow. He moved his hand so it grazed up my dress and across my stomach. I heard the voice in my head screaming at me to stop, but I couldn't. The voice, sounded more and more like Brittany everytime it spoke. I shut my eyes, letting my head swim. I didn't want him to see my face, in case of uncertainty. I wanted it to happen, but at the same time I didn't. He pulled at my thong, slowly raising my hips with the other hand which was pressed against the small of my back. I kept my eyes closed as I let his legs spread my own, his weight pressing against me.

All of a sudden, there was a screaming voice in my head, and I felt a desperate urge to clench, to keep him out, cover myself up again. It didn't feel good. It felt like I was somewhere else entirely, watching a boy force himself onto me. It wasn't working, I could feel the treacherous softening, his movements becoming static. He rolled away on to his back beside me, panting. Just quickly as his touch had seemed like the only thing I wanted, it suddenly became weird, awkward, wrong. I didn't want his skin anywhere near mine. I pulled down my dress which had bunched around my waist. We lay in silence, listening to the sound of the ocean again.

"Are you going to say anything?" He asked, his voice coming out all croaky.

"I don't know. I don't know what to say. I'm sorry." I shrugged, not knowing what else to add.

"I thought it's what you wanted," he said.

"I don't think so." He stayed silent for a second and I turned to face the side of his head, staring up into the sky. He didn't look at me.

"I'm gay." He spoke clearly. My eyes popped open, not knowing what to say. This was so strange. What the hell.

"Oh. Right."

"I wanted to make you feel good.." His voice was slightly pained.

"Well, thank you. I appreciate that. It's obviously not what you want though, you don't want me in that way. I get it." I smiled, a genuine smile.

"I looked at you that night in the bar, and thought I wanted you. You're the only person that spoke to me like you got me. You're the only one I could talk to easily, I got butterflies when I first spoke to you." He said this sincerely, and I kind of knew what he meant.

"But when you touched me?" I urged, wanting to know more. He looked up into my face. "It didn't feel right."

I nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. I took a deep breath, and I found his hand linked with mine, his fingers pressing into my own. I took them into my lap. "It's not your fault Bart, I actually know what you mean. And that's not one of those bullshit things to say, I really do." I shot him an empathetic look.

"Really?" He almost looked suprised.

"Yeah, I slept with my best friend and it just felt so.."

"Right?" I nodded slowly as he finished my sentence. Maybe he was in the same position. Without knowing, tears started falling from my eyes. I was sobbing into the arms of a stranger.

"Yeah. I know how you feel. I slept with my best friend last year, and ever since then I've been questioning my sexuality." He was speaking from an honest heart. "He was so gentle and every touch felt like a jolt of electricity shooting through my skin." He finished, giving me a smile. I processed his words, listening intently. After a while I spoke;

"Friends?" Asking with a little smile.

"Friends." He agreed. Maybe he didn't think I'd be as accepting as I turned out to be. Granted I do have a bitch face pasted on 90% of the time, but I wasn't as bad as everyone thought I was.

I thought long and hard about what Bart had said, I knew I felt something for Brittany, but what was it? I took a deep breath, trying to figure it out. Trying so god damn hard to find out exactly what I was feeling towards Brittany. She has always had this effect on me, she always had a way of doing the impossible. She was the only person that could calm me down when I was angry, even when it took 3 people to hold me back because 2 just wasn't enough. She always made me feel better. Stronger, and so much happier. She could keep me grounded, she could bring me down when I'm pretty sure I was about to lose my head. But maybe that's what best friends are, maybe these feelings are just strong friendship feelings. Yes. There we go, you've finally figured it out. The voices in my head clapped me. We were incredibly close, me and Britt, and the reason being, probably because she could do the things others never could. We fitted perfectly together, as best friends. It is a love in some ways, but because we're both girls, it's a best friendship love.

The next night I repeated the process, slipping on my gorgeous red dress and heading somewhere where I hoped I wouldn't hook up with another gay guy. Only I could do that, go to Ibiza and make out with the only homo there. Anyway I found a guy three minutes into walking into the club, I dragged him to the ladies and locked him in a cubicle with myself before sticking my tongue down his throat. I slid down his body, moving with his hand which was pressed on my head, pushing me down. I slipped out his cock and kissed it, teasing him. I repeated it, pressing my lips to the tip. He shook with pleasure, so I wet my lips. I lowered my mouth to him, letting the tip slide slowly in. His cock throbbed against my tongue. I gave it another kiss, his cock hardening as I moved it against my tongue. I pursed my lips and sucked him deeply, moving my mouth back and fourth. I felt his cock swelling as I tickled him with my tongue again. His cock was rigid and bouncing around in my mouth. He shuddered and I knew he was near the end. I whipped it out my mouth and stood up, pressing my fingertips to each corner of my mouth. I had to admit, I really didn't like sucking guys off but I smiled and exitted the cubicle. I was single though, I could do whatever the fuck I wanted to right? The next couple of nights went like this, trading between oral, using hands or fucking.

It was the morning of the end of my holiday. I checked my holiday diary..

Guys made out with: 7

Guys I'd been sexually intimate with: 5

Jesus Christ, I'd been a slut this holiday. But it helped, I was getting over my feelings, ones that I thought were more than they actually had been. Britt's mom always said; 'the best way to get over someone, was to get under someone else' - in my case, I got under a few people. I packed all my things, checking in on my mom and dad, who already had their things packed and they were lined up by the door. A note on the bed said they had gone out for lunch. Wow thanks for the invite. I didn't really care anyway to be honest, probably best if I didn't go off on one again, they hadn't talked to me a lot since anyway. I opened the sliding doors which opened onto a little balcony that had two sun loungers. Since it was my last day and I didn't feel like going out, a tan was in order. I couldn't go back not looking any different, and I hadn't spent that much time in the sun. I changed into my bikini and laid down on the chair, leaving a towel to drape over the spare sun lounger.

As I closed my eyes, watching my eyelids turn from orange to yellow because of the sun, when I heard someone yell;

"Yo, tiny tits." I snapped open my eyes, looking to my right. Three doors down and a level up, there was an young man staring at me. "Get 'em out!"

"Piss off, dirty inbred." I smirked and he backed into his doorway, disappearing. I laughed but then his words sank in. I looked down at my covered breasts, surely they weren't that small? I was a B.. I'd always thought they were alright. Then again, I had always wanted them to get bigger. It was summer, I had 6 weeks until I had to go back to school. Was that enough time for a boob job? I considered it thoroughly, thinking over it. My dad had always said he wouldn't mind what I did with my body because it was mine. So I was going to take advantage of that, and ask him for one.

On the flight back, I switched off my iPod and turned to my dad.

"Papa, I want a boob job. When we get back, I'm booking an appointment with a plastic surgeon." It was easier with him to demand instead of ask. I expected him to rant and shout at me, causing a scene on the plane. Instead he nodded and looked back to his magazine.

"Although Santana, this will be your birthday present. I'm going to get you the best surgeon around." He flickered his eyes up, meeting my own, before returning to reading. I smiled, even though he didn't see me and stuck my headphones back in. Santana Lopez always gets her way. I closed my eyes and before I knew it I was back in Ohio. It'd felt like the return journey was much shorter than getting there.

As I settled back into my house, unpacked my clothing and got some food (plane food is gross), I logged onto my laptop and clicked Facebook.

Brittany S. Pierce is now seeing someone.

I still hadn't talked to her. She could go three weeks without texting or calling you, so give her a taste of her own medicine and ignore her. The voices in my head were speaking louder at me, telling me what to do. She clearly was occupied with something or someone else, and obviously had no time for you. As much as I hated to admit it, my conscience was right. She hadn't tried to talk to me. Fuck her. I didn't need her. If she wanted to talk to me, she would have to make the first move.