Previously on A New Friendship
-Brittany leaves Artie's and goes to Santana's
-After a heart to heart Santana confesses she's never been kissed on the neck
-Brittany offers to show her what it feels like, Santana accepts
-Santana tells Brittany about her two girl friends who hooked up for fun as Friends with Benefits
Youtube link- youtube . Com / watch?v=O-hfBRmVYD4
Youtube link 2 - youtube . Com/ watch?v=uxTDK1S5qJ0
"Take it away, Artie," Mr. Schue announces as he steps aside and leaves Artie sitting in front of us alone in his chair. The piano player, I think his names Brad, who by the way I'm not sure can talk, starts playing a song I recognize.
Mr. Schue told us when he started class that Artie had a song he wanted to perform. That's Mr. Schue's rule. Whoever wants to sing a song, whenever, is allowed. He encourages it, too.
If every word I said could make you laugh, I'd talk forever.
After the Artie sings out the first line, I recognize the song. I know some real band sings it, but I recognize it from Full House. Uncle Jesse sang it. My dream man. Too bad there's no guy actually like him out there.
Artie's voice is amazing. Listening to his voice makes me so happy. He's so talented. And I think his voice is what makes him not a complete dork to me.
If the song I sing to you could fill your heart with joy, I'd sing forever.
The lyrics of this song are beautiful, now that I listen to them. But that's not what makes me happy. It's his voice. Honestly, he could be singing a song about trees and I'd feel the same emotions I'm feeling now. Which I think is bad, because his words should be making me swoon. His stare is soft, but he's looking right at me for awhile. He starts wheeling around, though, to make it more of a performance, I think. He also is closing his eyes, the way singers do when they try to hit harder notes, or when they are being soulful.
As Artie spins one way, Santana, whose sitting in the seat next to me in the back row, leans over and puts her face next to my ear, as if she's going to whisper something.
Artie spins around and looks at me again.
Santana's mouth stays quiet but doesn't move an inch from my ear.
Artie wheels to the left towards Brad, taking his eyes off of me.
Santana's lips brush, accidentally I think, against my ear.
"Want company tonight?" Her voice is so soft and it tickles my ear. "While you watch Chris?" Her whispered words send a shiver down my spine. It makes me think of her lips, still lingering not far from my ear. They're so full, and so soft. I think of when she kissed me. Then I think of when I kissed her neck. And how good her skin tasted. Suddenly a heat flushes through my body, starting at my throat and ending down at my... well, downstairs.
As the excitement of her lips so close to me begins to wear off, I remember her question, the reason they were there.
"Yeah," I say as I turn to her with a smile. The thought of being with her tonight makes the excitement come back.
I've been so happy loving you.
As his song ends, which I just missed almost all of it by thinking about Santana, we all start clapping.
"That was great Artie!" Mr. Schue says. "One of my favorite songs, great choice."
I get up to hug him, as I feel I should, because he was directing that at me.
"You were amazing!" I whisper as I lean into the hug, which is a far lean in because of his chair.
He really was amazing. Before him, my dream was always to be serenaded by a guy who was confessing feelings for me. It's so romantic. He's done it a few times, and it's always been amazing. But honestly, not what I'd always hoped for, I guess. It's sad, too, that as amazing as he just was, my favorite part of his performance was the shiver sent down my spine. Not from him, but from Santana's whisper.
"So you liked it?" Artie's voice echos through the phone.
"Yeah, I loved it. You were so good," I tell him as I doodle little stars on my notebook. I'm trying to make the stars without lines crossing through them, the way kids do it. I never learned how. No one ever taught me. So when I try to draw a star it looks like my 10 year old brother did it.
"Did you like the lyrics? That's why I picked it," he confesses. Here he goes, making me feel all guilty.
"Yeah," I whisper. "They were perfect," my voice fades as I find it harder to say those words than I thought.
"I thought so too," he says. After about 10 seconds of silence, he asks, "Brit, are you okay?"
I hate that question. Last year, one of my dance teachers asked me a week after my dad had been arrested for a DUI, "How are you?" She said it the way you say it in the hallway when you pass someone. "Hey. Hey. How are you? Good, how are you? Good." That's what should have happened.
I said, "Good, how are you?" The way I always do. She simply said, "No you're not." That was the first person who noticed. Not my friends. My dance teacher. The second she said "no you're not," it was like someone had found me out. I felt exposed. Naked. I started crying on the spot. She let me cry as she sat next to me. She knew something deeper was going on, but she pretended to think I was upset about dance. A hard routine, a hard week, stress for an upcoming competition.
A few weeks after that incident, I stopped crying. I had been crying for so long, I was just worn out. It was gradual, but eventually it just cut off. When my dad was drunk, I didn't cry. After his second DUI, I tried to cry. I did, I swear. But no tears fell. I only had a blurry vision for a minute. I felt depressed, sure, but I wasn't crying. The only time I get close to crying, or manage to let the smallest tear fall, is when I think about Chris not having a father. Or when I think about how bad my mom feels. She shouldn't feel bad. It's not her fault.
It's unbelievable to me that I've already cried in front of Santana twice. I don't know if I've ever cried in front of Quinn, besides because of an injury. I've seen her cry, over boys usually, but I've never been in the situation too.
"Brit?" Artie's voice startles me. I forgot I was on the phone.
"Yeah, I'm fine." I know he isn't going to believe that, so I try to make something up. "Just a little stressed, I think. Lots of work, and practice. I got to drop Chris off at practice, too. But I think his friends dad is going to drop him off at home tonight, so that helps."
"Do you need any help?" He asks. "Or company? I can come over," he says.
"No," I blurt out, almost too fast. "no, it's okay, I have a lot of work. Plus I've got to work on a routine. It's okay. I've got to go though, I have to take Chris now."
"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow."
"Bye," I say.
"Bye, I love you," he says back.
I pretend to not hear the last part and hang up the phone.
As I'm about to walk upstairs Santana, I assume, pounds twice on my front door.
"Yoooo," I say as I open the door.
She gives me a confused laugh. "Hey," she smiles. "Where's Chris? I'm excited to meet him. I'm assuming he's twice as cool as you," she jokes.
"False," I state. "And I already dropped him off at practice. His friends dad is dropping him off at home, too. So it's an easy night. I just have to wait for him to come home. Then feed him."
"Bummer, I'll just meet him another time," she says. I smile, knowing that she assumes we are going to hang again.
When we get in my room Santana tosses her backpack onto the floor next to my bed. She sits down on the right side, the left if you are sitting on my bed. My notebook's still on the other side, so I think that's how she decided which side to sit on. I walk over to my stereo and put on the radio. I don't know what channel it is, but I usually like what's playing. I turn the volume down so you can hear it, but we can still have a conversation without yelling.
"Who drew these?" Santana asks. As I turn around I see her staring at my notebook.
"Drew what?" I ask, playing dumb.
"The stars." I see her smirking now.
"No one ever taught me!" I'm laughing, but also being a little defensive.
"Come here," she pats my spot on the bed and picks up my notebook.
As I sit down next to her, she grabs the pen and begins to draw a perfect star. "Look," she says as she draws another, slower this time.
"That's perfect!" I say. She laughs, I think at my amazement at a doodled star. But it is perfect. Exactly what I've been trying to draw for years.
"You try," she says as she hands me the pen.
I grab the pen and hold it as steady as I can. I start slow and draw the top, a triangle without the bottom. As I try to draw the right point, it's clear I already messed up. It's not straight at all. I let out an annoyed breath.
She gives me an encouraging nod to try again. When I do the same thing again, I let out a loud "Ugh!"
"Brit," she smiles, "you'll get it. Stay calm." I can tell she's holding in giggles. She hands me back the pen. This time, though, she wraps her fingers around mine.
I look up at her a little started.
"I'll help," she says. She begins to slowly guide my hand in the shape of a star. Even though I should be excited about the possibility of making my perfect star, I'm more excited about the fact that were practically holding hands. I thought Artie's hands were soft, but hers are like velvet. She has to bathe in lotion.
"Look at that," she tells me. I suddenly notice, with Santana's help, I've drawn four perfect stars. My face lights up. "Try one," she says.
But when she pulls her hand away, my smile fades. I even consider messing up the stars again so she'll hold my hand again. But I think if I can do it, she'll be impressed. So I try my hardest.
I draw really slowly, but hold the pen extra tight. Perfect. The perfect star. On my own. I draw another one, to make sure it wasn't beginners luck. Then I draw another. And another. When Santana giggles I can't help but join in.
"I did it!" I scream. I throw my arms around her neck and pull her into a hug out of excitement. "Thank you so much! You're the best best best person ever!"
I pull away and stare at my stars again. I draw another one, still in awe that I actually can.
"You're so cute," she says while laughing. I can't look at her because I know I'm blushing, and looking at her will only make me blush even more. I hate being pale.
As we get quiet, I hear a song playing on the radio. It's Britney Spears Hold it Against Me. Only it's not her singing. It's some guy. And it's slowed down. It sounds really pretty.
Hey over there please forgive me if I'm coming on too strong
Hate to stare but you're winning and they're playing my favorite song
So come here a little closer wanna whisper in your ear
Make It clear a little question wanna know just how you feel
I immediately think of Santana when I hear this song and dancing close with her at Puck's party. I don't think I fully realized it then, but looking back this is describing it perfectly. Or how I know I would feel right now if we were.
If I said my heart was beating loud
If we could escape the crowd somehow
If I said I want your body now
Would you hold it against me?
Cause you feel like paradise and I need a vacation tonight.
That's what Santana was. Paradise. Maybe hooking up with her would be like a vacation from Artie. Just a vacation, nothing more.
But I know that's not true or a reality.
As the song continues, I look at Santana. Not for any reason other than me wanting to see her face. She's now doodling on her own notebook. She must have pulled it out of her bag while I was drawing.
"Hey Brit?" She says again. This time, she's hesitant. Quieter than normal.
"Mhm?"
"I just wanted to say," she waits a little before saying, "thanks."
"No problem," I answer. I act like I'm supposed to know what she's talking about. But I don't. Eventually my curiosity gets the best of me.
"For what?" I ask.
She chuckles. "Everything. Being so welcoming. And nice. You didn't have to do anything you've done. Helping me with my Cheerios routine, taking care of me at Puck's, helping me with pottery, being my partner in English, being a great friend." She stops talking. It sounds like she might cry, but she doesn't look like it.
I look at her for a minute, trying to read her.
"I just, I thought I'd never have a friend I'd like as much as Anne after what happened. I not good at being with people for long periods of time. It's kind of rare for me to like someone that much." As much as what she's saying could be taken as funny, her voice is serious. And Sad.
"But I like you, Brittany. And I don't get annoyed with you either, which is rare."
As much as I want to smile, she sounds so upset. I put my arm around her and pull her in. She scoots down the bed and lays her head on my chest. It's my turn to hold her now. It feels so good. Like I'm helping someone. I love being this close to her. I remember I liked her playing with my hair. It comforted me. So I take my hand, the one on the arm wrapped around her, and gently stroke my fingers down her hair. It's not in a ponytail, but it's all swept to the side behind her neck on the side not laying on me. Her hairs so soft. Softer than her hands. She really should be on a Pantene commercial.
"I like you a lot," she says. "Sometimes I think more than I liked Anne. I got annoyed with Anne sometimes. Not often. I just think deep down, I knew I shouldn't trust her completely. And I was right, obviously," she trails off.
"I like you, too," I say. I know she doesn't take this in a weird way, because we are talking about friendship. "I knew from right when I met you, we were going to be friends. I even told Quinn," I tell her. "You can even ask her."
She smiles a little.
"You broke down my walls," I blurt out. I bite my tongue. I don't know why I said that. She doesn't answer for a few seconds and I'm worried she's going to feel my heart thumping beneath her.
"What do you mean?" she finally asks.
"Before you were here, I hadn't cried for myself in months. I was numb, I think," I tell her. "I just didn't care. Well, I cared, but I didn't feel like I cared. I didn't feel anything. With you, I've already cried twice. Once when I told you about my dad and yesterday, after Artie's. I'm not sobbing, but it's something. More then I've done in months. It feels so good. Like I'm human, or something," I confess. I almost feel like I might cry again, but I don't. "So thank you, for that," I say.
She leaves her head on my chest but looks up and smiles.
"I can't believe I did that," she's says quietly. "You've made me trust, too. For the first time, like, ever." She laughs a little. "Plus, I' feel like I've cried in front of you like 15 times, so we're even," she smiles.
I keep fiddling with her hair.
"You know, I don't think I ever cried in front of Quinn. Except for physical injuries, maybe. And Artie, only once, when I thought about breaking up with him. I got too sad, knowing I would hurt him. That was awhile ago, though."
She's still looking up at me, her head laying on my chest.
"So I guess you're pretty special," I say with a cheesy smile.
She grins at me. "Yeah, you too."
Then she lifts her head a little off my chest. She's still looking at me though. Her eyes suddenly look so vulnerable. Like all I have to do is hit one button, and the whole world would see her darkest secrets. Her left hand is still on my stomach as she sits up a little further. Slowly, she lifts her hand off my tummy and begins to raise it. I don't know where it's going, or why she's doing it, but it makes my heart race faster. Her fingrs land on the back of my neck, partly holding my head. The second her hand touches me I realize how close her face has gotten to mine. Within a second, I'm closing the gap between us and our lips touch.
Butterflies. That's what it feels like. The most unbelievable feeling I've ever felt.
I kiss her back for the first time and can't believe this is real. Her lips are warm. Gentler than anything I've ever felt. She gives me the sweet kiss I've been wanting for so long. Her plump lips surrounding my thin upper lip slightly part and I quickly open and reclose mine over hers, showing I can kiss back.
My stomach is moving all around. I feel like I could honestly do anything right now. Hot fluid is streaming through my body. I feel like I weigh five pounds. My heart has never beated this fast. Ever. I swear I can feel my heartbeat in any part of my body. My lips tingle in the best way possible.
As she parts her lips again I open mine and in hopes that her tongue will enter my mouth. I want it more than anything. But she's paralyzed me. I can't make myself slide my tongue in first.
But she stops. She pulls her lips away from mine but keeps our foreheads touching. We're both breathing louder than normal. We sound like little puppies who desperately need water.
I don't open my eyes. I don't want this moment to end. I think that if I keep my eyes closed, she'll kiss me again. But she doesn't.
"I- I'm sorry," she stammers as she pulls her foreheads away from mine.
Santana jumps off the bed quickly grabs her bag.
"Santana! It's okay! Don't leave," I say as I jump off the bed to follow her.
"I- I have to go," she hasn't looked at me since we pulled apart. She's already at my door.
She sprints out of my room and down the stairs. I run after her, and I swear I've never ran this fast in my life, but her head start is too much. She runs out my front door and into her car.
"I'm sorry," she says as she closes her door behind her. That was the first time I'd seen her face since before the kiss.
She looked like she had seen the ghost of her great-grandfather or something, if he's even dead.
Pale. Flushed. Scared.
I stand on my front doorstep and watch as her car pulls away. Every emotion I just had during the kiss is now turned around on me. I feel every ounce of what I just felt less than a minute ago flipped.
For the first time directly, Santana Lopez makes me cry.
I hope you all like it! let me know what you think!
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