Hi everyone! Really sorry for the long wait. I've been super busy at uni, and only got home last night! I also lost my hand written notes in one of the moves, and so all my little plot ideas and flashback ideas have been lost :/

I'm hoping to update my other fic (Ignoring the Script) over the next two weeks too!

Super thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter. I really appreciate it :)

Berkeley, California: Friday May 17th 2013:

Santana lent back in her chair, cracking her back in the process, as her eyes flickered over the screen and she tiredly breathed out long and loud. She reached the bottom of her essay before reaching for the track pad to move to the top, but small white curser hovered over the scroll bar. Her mouth twisted and she bit her lower lip in thought before moving over the minimise button and closing her eyes.

She'd been checking her email account at least once every half an hour in the hope there would be a little one in brackets indicating a new message. She had been obsessively checking her phone too, even though it was on loud and she would hear it.

Taking a deep breath, she opened one eye, immediately slumping onto her desk seeing no new messages. It had been close to a month with little or no contact with Brittany. At first they had just both gotten so busy with work, that Santana had hardly noticed the absence.

Expected it even.

But when the conversations became shorter, often devolving into snapping at one another, the gaps between phone calls became longer and the use of email and texts less frequent. Over the last week, Santana had realised how little contact they had had. It had now been so long that she didn't want to message Brittany.

Whilst at the same time, all she wanted was to ring Brittany, and hear her musical lilting voice or her soft laughter or her rambling, twisting, alternative way of thinking out loud.

Every time Santana went to ring her, a little voice sounded in the back of her brain. What if she rang Brittany and she didn't pick up? Or worse, someone else picked up.

And each time she went to ring Brittany, the louder the voice would get.

The more oppressive.

The more believable.

And she hated herself for thinking that Brittany would ever treat her like that.

The only times that Brittany had blatantly ignored Santana had been years before. But it had always been when she was too stubborn to see what was right in front of her, or what was in herself. When Santana had been spinning out of control, when she an enemy everywhere she turned, even when she turned to herself.

Lima, Ohio: Saturday April 18th 2009:

"Come on Santana! Another shot and you've beaten him!" Puck's slurred encouragement hit bluntly at the side of Santana's head. She snorted (not that she would ever admit to it) in laughter before reaching for the next drink.

"What d'yah say Finnept? Are you man enough for another round?" Santana's words were slurred, but not as bad as Finn's attempted reply. Instead he aggressively reached for the drink in Santana's hand, touched it to his lips and tipped his head back. His adams apple bobbed as he swallowed, followed by a decisive thunk of the tumbler hitting the wooden table. But the resulting cheer was silenced when he doubled over and threw up over himself and the carpet.

Santana wrinkled her nose in disgust before pushing away from the table, bottle in hand. She automatically reached for Brittany, but stopped herself before they touched, grabbing Puck's shirt instead.

As soon as they had moved away from the crowd, Puck's hands where on her arse, pulling her towards him and into his kisses.

(Forceful and sloppy and rough. She couldn't help but compare it to the way Brittany's lips shaped to her own and the way just the tips of Brittany's fingers would brush along her skin, making a path of fire along the way.)

Puck's touch burnt her skin, but like acid, causing Santana to pull away from him as much as possible.

(Every time Brittany touched her, Santana automatically leaned closer for more, begging, pleading, hungering for more.)

She was hoping that after the first party when they got together the kissing would feel better, feel natural, feel wanted. But every kiss just made her feel a little more wrong.

(She should want Puck; he was popular and athletic and attractive.)

A little more disgusting.

(Just because she knew she should want Puck, didn't mean that it didn't make her feel dirty, used and a liar.)

A little harder to look herself in the mirror.

(Why would she want to look at what she had become? Especially when she would often see herself with Brittany, happy and smiling. She could help but think of that stupid mirror in Harry Potter that Brittany had been obsessed with when they first read the books. An idea that Santana had scoffed at with Brittany, but dreamt about for a good week.)

It hadn't taken long before Puck started hinting at doing more than just making out with Santana, and she hadn't managed to keep him at bay so far. But rumours of her and Brittany

(Dyke)

being more than just best friends had escalated, especially as neither had boyfriends,

(Freak)

and so Santana had let Puck get further and further at each party.

(Slut)

She had let him see her topless shortly after she slept with Brittany, but it had made her stomach churn and her skin feel dirty.

She hadn't told Brittany about any of this either. She didn't really know how to, and she definitely didn't want to see the hurt or disappointment in her eyes.

Puck's hands were moving from her backside to her hips, his thumbs slowly creeping forwards, and Santana pushed, harder than she meant to in slight panic. His eyes widened in shock, and Santana giggled as girly as she could in an attempt to hide her true feelings.

"You know I don't want to Puck."

Puck rolled his eyes, before smirking and running his hands down her arms. "It'll be fun. I know what I'm doing so it won't even hurt!" Santana raised her eyebrow disbelievingly.

(She knew (Dyke) first hand there would be pain)

"Okay, so it won't be painless, but c'mon Santana. It won't be that bad!" Santana licked her lips, she didn't know how else to say no, and she could tell Puck was starting to get pissed off at the kiss only relationship. "You know, I'm starting to think there is something to those rumours of you and Britt! It sure would explain a lot!"

"What! You know…Britt…we're…there is nothing going on between us. Jesus Puckerman!" Santana huffed and crossed her arms. "Stop projecting your kinky shit on my friendship with Britt."

"Well, in that case, why aren't you all up on the Puckmeister? No one else can compare to my hotness, so don't even try the bullshit 'I've got a boyfriend' line." Puck looked smug at having backed Santana into a corner, and suddenly the shots and cheap bear she had been drinking all night hit her. Her head was throbbing and felt heavy, her mouth thick and like cotton.

She closed her eyes at the sudden pain of tears and turned away from Puck. "Fine," Puck fist pumped and grinned widely. "Next party."

"What? No way! Now or never. Well, not never 'cos the Puckster is sex shark, and you Lopez have a fine behind and an even better rack." Puck grabbed at the air lewdly. "But, it won't stop me thinking you'd rather I had my own rack. Know what I'm saying?"

"Idiot. I need to get protection, 'cos I bet you don't have any right?" Puck opened his mouth before he sheepishly shrugged and scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, I know where you've been, so there is no way you're going near me without something in between us. Next party Puck. Surely you can wait that long."

Santana just hoped she could think of some way to distract him during, or make him forget the idea entirely.

Lima, Ohio: Saturday April 25th 2009:

Santana hadn't come up with something.

Other than not going to the party at all, which would probably only make the situation worse.

She couldn't even get completely wasted; losing control and letting something slip (or spending too much time around a drunk, overly touchy Brittany and getting an erection. That had happened more times than she'd like to admit) was not an option. It would only cause a worse rumour to be spread around William McKinley.

Santana huddled further under the duvet; maybe if she never got out of bed, the day would just pass her by.

Santana had changed her outfit repeatedly for the last two hours.

Jeans would just piss Puck off and make him less likely to agree to her plan.

(You know, when she got a plan.)

A tight dress would distract him with her cleavage, but any accidental boners would be far too obvious, and they were all so short that Puck could easily slip his hand up without her being able to stop it in time.

A floating dress or skirt would cover any boners, but was almost far too much of an invitation for Puck to just lift up and go at it.

She sighed and turned to face the piles of clothes on her bed. She decided to take a shower in the hope that the perfect outfit would materialise. But she had finished towelling herself dry and still had no idea what to wear.

She rang Brittany, but they were half way through the conversation before Santana realised she had no idea how to tell Brittany what she had agreed to with Puck. She cut the conversation short, and threw the phone behind her onto the bed. She spun once on the balls of her feet before walking towards the bed to try and make an outfit work.

Santana shook her hair back off her exposed shoulders, the gentle summer breeze pulling at the mid-thigh length skirt she settled on. (It was tight, but not like a second skin, short but long enough to slap away Puck's hand, and with her skin tight, low cut strap top she figured Puck wouldn't be complaining.) Her stomach was still churning, and her brain was still desperately flicking through scenarios that would get her out of the situation, reputation and secret intact. She walked through the front door, head held high, and straight towards Quinn and the other Cheerio's.

All too quickly, Puck sauntered over and draped his arm around her shoulders. He kissed at her cheek and handed her a solo cup of something sweet and strong. "Hey babe. I made you a drink." His words were slurred and his actions overly deliberate; he was obviously already quite drunk. Santana took the drink with a smug grin, hoping that he was too drunk to remember their agreement. "I've got us a room for later." Or not. "Or, you know, now." He wiggled his eyebrows at her, and she rolled her eyes before pushing him away from her.

"Later! Jesus Puck. Let me enjoy the party at least for a bit!"

He held up his hands in surrender. "Okay Lopez. Chill out. You enjoying the party is just a warm up anyway." With another lewd wiggle of his eyebrows he walked off back into the crowd.

Suddenly Quinn was at Santana's shoulder, judgement (and jealousy?) smouldering in her eyes. "Well?" She demanded.

"Well what?"

Quinn huffed. "Well, what was that about?"

Santana smirked, the feeling of having information that Quinn didn't flooding through her veins. She shrugged nonchalantly and took a sip of her drink, trying to hide the wince from its strength. "Oh, nothing much. Just an agreement we made last week." Santana's smirk deepened at Quinn's frustrated cluelessness, and she shrugged once again before sauntering off into the dancing bodies.

Several hours later, (several longing glances at Brittany) and Puck re-appeared by her side. He appeared more sober, and even more insistent for the deal to go through. Santana had run out of reasons why they wouldn't be sleeping together, and let Puck manoeuvre her up the stairs, whilst making sure that anyone that mattered saw. It was until the door closed behind them and Puck finally pulled away, breathing hard, and already with an obvious arousal that she started panicking. It only heightened when he surged forwards again and pressed her against the door.

"C'mon Santana," He breathed "You can't spend the whole year teasing me in those tiny Cheerio outfits and dresses that show more than underwear at every party and not expect to pay up." His hands dug at the top of her shirt, and he grabbed at her breasts. Too hard and too desperate. "Jesus Santana, you've got the best tits." As he pulled at her bra, (padded slightly to make them bigger and even out the slight growth differences) an idea popped into her head.

"Wait," He keep pulling at the cups, trying, unsuccessfully, to undo the clasp. Which was at the back. She pushed at his hands and put a knee against his stomach. "I said wait!"

Puck screwed his face in annoyance. "What now?"

"Rules. I don't particularly want any part of your skevie Lima Looser body touching, let alone inside, any part of mine," Puck opened his mouth to argue, but Santana held up her hand in silence. "But I've tried to get you to forget this, and it hasn't worked. So. You are not to touch below my skirt, we are not going all the way, only oral. But you will tell everyone we went all the way, and you can fuck whoever else you want. I don't care." Puck looked like he was struggling following everything, and Santana sighed. She grabbed his hands and placed them on her waist. "Up, over the bra, yes, down no. Oral only, but you say we went all the way. You can fuck whatever skanky hoe you want. But not Quinn." She paused, waiting for him to nod. "Oh, and not Brittany. She's too good for you. Comprende?"

He nodded again, then his head shot up from her breasts to her eyes. "Wait, I'm not going down on you. That's…"

(Amazing. Intimate. Trusting.)

"Nasty" His nose wrinkled. Santana rolled her eyes, feigning annoyance.

"Fine! Whatever, let's just get this done shall we?" Puck grinned before leaning back in to kiss Santana, pressing her body against the door. Santana could feel him growing against her and she managed to move from under him and over to the bed. She pulled her shirt over her head, and crooked her finger at him. He stumbled over, fighting with his buckle as he did so. She rolled her eyes again, unclasping it, and pulling down his jeans and underwear in one. She pushed him to sit down on the bed before kissing him once more and moving down onto her knees.

She left the part as quickly as she could, after swallowing the closest drink to try and dilute the taste of Puck in her mouth.

She felt disgusted with herself. But also like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, she didn't need to worry about gay rumours or her reputation being shattered. (But there was yet another weight added to her shoulders when she though how Brittany would react when she found out.) Santana couldn't stop the bile moving upwards and she doubled over, retching.

At school on Monday, everyone was talking about how her and Puck were the new 'it couple' and girls were asking her in hushed whispers what her first time was like, whilst the guys wolf-whistled at her in the corridor. She smirked, head held high and power surging through her.

Brittany didn't talk to her for close to a month.

And it was the worst month of Santana's life.

Berkeley, California: Friday May 17th 2013:

Until now.

Actually, this may be worse. This time Santana had no idea what she had done wrong. If she had done something wrong. But she was too scared, too paranoid, to find out and ask.

Because what if what she had done wrong, was that she was no longer who Brittany wanted to be with?

Hey! So, hopefully, I haven't lost you all, and I'm sorry this was a bit short, but hopefully short is better than nothing! As ever, any mistakes, let me know!

Reviews please?

Oh, and I'm thinking of doing a chapter from Brittany's POV of this time period, but I'm not very good at writting her in the least, so let me know if you would be interested in reading that, or you just want the story to continue! Thanks guys!