Brittany followed at the fuming Santana as they both sat on the couch. Dave was still slumped, although almost half of his body was on the ground.
"What the fuck just happened there, Britt?" Santana demanded.
"We were just dancing," Brittany grinned.
"Damn it, Britt! That wasn't dancing!" Santana blurted out.
"You're just jealous," Brittany said smiling.
"I'm not! You think this was funny? Well, it's not!" Santana snapped angrily.
"I am just kidding around!" Brittany said defensively. "I did not know you'd be that jealous!"
Santana looked back at the helpless blonde and looked at her girl. "I'm not jealous. I just felt insulted."
Santana walked towards her car and got into the driver's seat. She did not even bother to wait for Brittany because she had remembered that the blonde had her car.
A loud thump came from her window, causing Santana to look up and saw a scared, helpless, worried Brittany knocking on her car window.
"Open the car window!" Brittany's muffled voice reached Santana's eardrums.
"Leave it!" Santana shouted, making sure that the blonde could hear her. Then she waved a dismissive hand, telling the blonde girl to fuck off and leave her alone.
"Santana…roll down the window!" Brittany desperately shot her fist on the car window. However, Santana just revved up the engine and pulled out towards the highway.
She quickly took a look at the rear view mirror, only to find a Brittany with slumped shoulders and a tearful, sad face. Somehow, deep within Santana's mind, she wanted to step on the brakes and get out of the car and run back towards Brittany but in another part of her mind, probably, her dark side, tells her that she should not and keep on driving.
She can't be what you want. She'll just hurt you. Like what Dianna had done before. You can't know it, but she would definitely hurt you. Sooner or later. Leave her. Go Santana. Drive. Drive and never look back.
Santana, being composed and her stand resolved, stepped on the accelerator and sped away across the highway. Brittany, being left alone slumped on the hood of her car.
"Hey," it was Puck.
"Hi, Puck," Brittany answered softly.
"Hey, give her some space. The way I see it, she'll come around. So, don't worry," Puck tapped her shoulders as he walked away. "Come on, let's party."
"No, Puck. I'll just go home. This whole evening's shot," Brittany got into her car and revved up the engine as she looked up at Puck.
"Take care, B."
"Thanks, Puck," she said as she rolled the windows up and pulled out towards the road. She can't even think why Santana had to be jealous when she was just dancing. With Rory.
But, well, she was dancing with Rory sexily, and it made the Latina angry.
She drove towards her house and softly parked her car next to her dad's. After downing a glass of water from the kitchen, she went to her bedroom and flopped on the chair in front of her desk.
She stared at the silhouette-shadow photograph of Santana pinned into her corkboard scheduler. She thought of calling Santana.
She left you at the party, right? Why would you waste your damn time if she doesn't want to talk to you?
Somehow, Brittany wanted to cry and slap her own face for being so stupid and all. And knowing it was her fault why Santana acted that way was more than enough burden for her. Suddenly, she remembered something so little that she almost freaked out.
She ran halfway down the stairs and jumped over the remaining ones.
"Britt? Baby, what's the rush? I thought you're with Santana?"
"I am. But she has gone home now."
"Why?"
"We kind of got into a fight, Daddy," Brittany admitted defeatedly. "I need to tell her I'm sorry."
"Mhmm…at this time of the evening? Well, if that's so important then," Robbie smiled. He loved how much his child cared for her friendship with Santana.
"I'll get you when you're done apologizing?"
"No, Dad. I'll just, well, okay. I'll just text you if ever something comes up."
"Okay, have a nice time. And good luck. I hope you both smooth out all the creases on your relationship."
Brittany almost heard her heart drop when her father mentioned 'relationship' because if truth be told, they were really in a relationship. Unofficially, though.
Brittany put on her hoodie and climbed into her car. She quickly pulled out of her driveway and moments later, she was wheezing down the road towards the Lopez residence.
Santana flipped each channel from the previous one. There was nothing to do really.
Darn that Pierce girl. She knows just how to ruin a day and make her jealous about everything else. The blonde had total control.
Suddenly her phone buzzed. It was Puck.
"Hello." Santana answered glumly.
"Hi, Tana, where are you?"
"House. Now get the fuck off the line."
"Wait, wait. I just want to ask, there's something between you and Britt the Blonde? Because I've got feels that you do."
"None of your business, Puckerman," she hung up abruptly, not wanting to say anything and fearing that she might slip a single information or fact about her dating with Brittany.
Santana decided for a shower to cool things off. And to clear her head. She quickly turned the water adjustment carefully, hoping that her shower won't be as cold as the Antarctic or it would not be so hot like Mordor.
She stepped into the shower and lathered her hair. Her shampoo just smelled like Brittany. It smelled of strawberries and flowers tossed together.
Maybe she's just freaking out of their fight, Besides, Brittany hadn't really texted her, so maybe the blonde had never really liked her.
Brittany parked her car a good deal of distance away from the Lopez house. Maybe some quarter of a mile and Brittany had walked the remaining distance. She could see the lights of the house. They were warm and cheery and beautiful. She often wondered where Santana could be. Maybe, in her bedroom. That was her best shot.
Not wanting to go through the front door, Brittany decided to climb the nearest tree from what she thought was Santana's room. She quickly climbed from the tree to the window sill of the room and she can already hear a splash of water in the shower. Maybe, it wasn't a good idea, after all. And clearly, she doesn't want to be caught sneaking on someone else's bedroom.
Santana's mind hopscotched form 'she's wrong' to 'I'm wrong because I shouted and walked out'. Santana tried closing her eyes as the cool water dribbled all over her body. She just took a shower and thought of what may happen to her and her resolve.
She can't give her up. But she has to.
She stepped out of the shower some fifteen or twenty minutes later and she dried her hair with a towel. She looked at herself in the mirror.
Clearly, she's a striking woman.
Santana continued on wiping off the soap suds from her body as she went out of the bathroom, thinking about her resolve and all the things she had to do that night when suddenly all if those things went flying out of her mind and out of the window.
"Hi, Santana. We need to talk, please," Brittany stood up from her bed, eyes full of guilt, of hurt and worry.
Worry that she might lose Santana forever.