It took twenty minutes for dessert to arrive. Santana threw a dirty look at the waiter's back as he left the table.
"Well, we finally got a piece of the pie," said Mercedes.
"Yeah, the service here is a lot slower than at Breadstix," said Tina. "I mean, how long can it take to cut a few slices?"
Santana nodded. "Carmel kids obviously don't know high-class dining."
(~)
"They're leaving." Santana frowned. "Artie and Brittany."
Tina looked over her shoulder and gasped. "Uh oh, they're coming this way. Hide!" Tina ducked under the table, but before Mercedes or Santana could do anything, Brittany had spotted them and was approaching their table; Artie had apparently diverted toward the restrooms.
"Hi." Brittany looked at Santana, then fixed her gaze on Santana's water glass.
"Hi." Santana looked at Brittany, then stared intently at the reflection of the lights on the polished tabletop.
Mercedes cleared her throat in the midst of the awkwardness. "Girl, what a coincidence! We had no idea you were here! What are you up to?"
"I'm here with Artie. On a date," Brittany said. Santana flinched. Brittany's glance flicked backed and forth between Santana and Mercedes. "Are you guys on a date too?" Mercedes furrowed her eyebrows, and from underneath the table there was an odd snorting sound.
Santana opened her mouth, closed it again, narrowed her eyes, then pasted a fake smile on her face. "Yes," she said, reaching across the table and covering Mercedes's hand with her own. Mercedes's eyes bugged out of her head and she tried to pull her hand away, but Santana clamped her fingers down on it. Brittany looked a little confused.
"Brittany, we're not- ow, my leg!" Mercedes winced and reached down to rub the spot where Santana had kicked her.
Santana leaned forward and put on a look of concern. "Mercedes baby, you should get that checked out. I'll get my dad to recommend someone excellent." She turned back to Brittany. "Yes, we are on a date. What Mercedes was saying is that we're not exclusive yet, but I think we might make it official any day now. We gots a spark." The table started to shake a little, but Santana ignored that and smiled sweetly at Mercedes. Mercedes felt a muscle twitch under her eye and tried again (unsuccessfully) to pull her hand away.
"Oh," Brittany said. She seemed to be unsure of what to say. "So... after you left today, I was afraid you might try to drown yourself in breadsticks, just like that one time..."
Santana coughed and gave a faint shake of her head at Brittany.
"...But I guess you didn't. I'm happy you're feeling better now," Brittany concluded, her face unreadable. "Is that my sweatshirt?"
Startled, Santana glanced down at herself and hunched her shoulders a little. "Oh. Maybe. So what? Fine, you know what, just take it." Santana pulled the sweatshirt off and pushed it into Brittany's hands. Underneath she wore a simple WMHS t-shirt, and she shivered at the sudden lack of warmth.
Brittany looked at the bundle in her arms and chewed at her bottom lip. "I'm glad you have someone to give sweet lady kisses to, Santana." Brittany turned to Mercedes. "But just be careful. If a hot guy comes along Santana won't need you to digest her food any more." Brittany turned and walked away to where Artie was waiting at the door. Mercedes narrowed her eyes at Santana and jerked her hand away.
"Yes!" Santana slapped the table with both hands. "She was totally jealous!" The plates and silverware began to shake again several seconds after impact and Santana looked down at her hands. "What is wrong with this table?"
Mercedes peered under the table, where Tina was hunched over, hugging the table leg and convulsing.
"Tina, are you all right?"
Tina looked up. She had a huge smile and tears were streaming down her face. "I can't breathe- I can't- laughing- ohmygod- stomach-hurts," she forced out, between gasps. Her shoulders started shaking again and on the table, ice cubes clinked against the sides of the water glasses.
Mercedes sighed. "Try to take deep breaths," she said, and sat back up to glare at Santana. "Are you crazy? You have to start talking to her again so you can tell her that we're not dating. Or considering dating. Or friends."
Santana waved a hand. "I'll take care of it, don't be ridiculous," she said. "Dating you would totally bring down what little is left of my rep." Tina wheezed underneath the table, and Mercedes leaned over.
"They're both gone. You can come out now."
Tina poked her head out from under the table and began to climb back into her seat next to Mercedes. "Speaking of coming out-" she started. Then she collapsed on the seat in another silent fit of laughter and helplessly slapped the vinyl cushion with one hand.
Santana ignored her. "Anyway, did you see that? Britt was like, monster jealous."
"I actually thought she seemed a little... sad."
"I know Brittany. She was jealous and that's that," Santana insisted, but she looked thoughtful.
(~)
The girls got up to leave. On the way out, they passed the Vocal Adrenaline table.
"Nice outfit." One of the Vocal Adrenaline guys wolf-whistled at Santana.
Worst day ever. Santana turned with her hands on her hips. "You know, I am not in the mood, so shove it."
"You might be in the mood after we spank your asses at Regionals."
"If you can even get off your fat asses." Santana gave him the finger and nearly lost her balance as Mercedes and Tina tried to push her toward the door.
"Just let it be," Mercedes whispered in Santana's ear. "We're getting out of here."
"Ha! Not as fat as your girlfriend," the guy called back at her. The three girls stopped short.
"Oh no you did not," Mercedes said. Santana's hands clenched into fists. Tina shook her head.
"This won't end well," Tina said to no one in particular.
Wordlessly, Santana picked up a piece of strawberry-rhubarb pie from a passing dessert cart, leaned forward, and smashed it directly into the loudmouth's face. Santana licked her fingers, and the Vocal Adrenaline kids gasped in well-rehearsed unison.
Mercedes cocked her head at Santana, looking both gratified and impressed. "Damn, girl."
"You- you bitch!" The guy wiped his eyes with his sleeve and jumped to his feet.
Without taking her eyes off the now-fuming loudmouth, Santana stuck her hand back. "Pie," she demanded.
Tina grabbed a piece of lemon meringue pie off a nearby table and helpfully placed it in Santana's hand. "Pie!" she replied. As if on cue, the rest of the Vocal Adrenaline members at the table jumped to their feet and reached for the nearest food at hand, and all the diners in the vicinity scrambled to vacate their booths and tables. It was on.
(~)
"I am never, ever taking you anywhere ever again," grumbled Mercedes. She tried to pull globs of blueberry filling out of her hair, then leaned down to clean off her hand in a pile of snow.
"Some kind of fake girlfriend you are," said Santana. She wiped whipped cream off her nose. "As if I'd want to go anywhere with you anyway."
"Well, we definitely won't be coming back here, since we're banned for life and everything," said Tina, shaking crumbs out of her black lace. "They could have at least given us some paper towels."
All three of them carefully climbed into Mercedes's car. "You're getting the cleaning bill for this," Mercedes warned Santana.
(~)
Santana's mother did a double-take when she walked in the door. "Where have you been? And what is all that on your clothes?"
Santana paused on her way upstairs. How best to explain? "Dinner."
"With Brittany?"
She hated how her pulse sped up just from hearing Brittany's name. "No. Why would you think that?"
"Florence said Brittany went up to see you this afternoon after you came home early. I just assumed."
"I was asleep all afternoon. I didn't talk to anyone." Santana looked at her mother strangely and wondered why their housekeeper would have made up something like that. Whatever, though. Right now she just wanted to go to her room and change her clothes for the third time that day. Seriously, if this was what a normal loser day was like, she'd have to start wearing plastic ponchos everywhere.
When she straightened out her bed covers (which had been flung aside in her haste to get to what she thought would be Breadstix), something red and white fell to the floor. Startled, Santana picked it up and turned it over in her hands. It was a soft stuffed doll with yellow yarn hair, dressed in a Cheerio uniform. Santana's breath caught. The last time she had seen the doll, it had been weeks ago in Brittany's bedroom, when they were attempting to study for a test.
(~)
"That creepy doll of yours is watching me," Santana complained. It was freaky. The doll's disturbingly detailed eyes always seemed to follow her wherever she went, like one of those paintings in old horror movies.
"Don't be mean to Brittany Jr.," said Brittany. "She likes to watch you because she thinks you're hot."
"Oh." Santana blinked. "Well... I guess that's all right then." She glanced back at the doll, which now seemed to be making kissy-lips at her.
Brittany smiled.
(~)
Santana's eyes welled up with tears. That was the last time she'd been in Brittany's room and it felt like it was a million years ago. They hadn't even made out that night; mostly they had just made fun of the history teacher and read passages of their textbook out loud in goofy voices, but Santana still missed it.
And apparently Brittany had been here after all. Maybe she did care. Wearily Santana dropped down onto the bed, and though she felt a little silly, hugged the doll close to her chest. She could have sworn it smelled faintly of Brittany's shampoo, and an echo of her dream suddenly came to mind.
It's okay. I'm here.
Tomorrow, she decided. Tomorrow she'd talk to Brittany.