Updated twice in 2 days. I guess I'm on fire ;)
Day Four Hundred and Eight.
The smell of dumpy, old, trashy Lima in Ohio. Fuck, yeah, I'm back. I've missed this miserable, stinking place. The last twenty seven weeks have been the worst of my life. I haven't slept or eaten properly - I rarely smiled. Because when I fall asleep, I dream of her. And when I eat, I taste her lips. And when I smile, I remember she's the reason why I used to smile. Atlanta has been a nice city to be in. The people were great during the six months that I've been there, the company and its new products are selling great partly because of all the work I've put into the branding and the development, but I hated every second when I wasn't working. I tried to call Brittany a million times, but I only did once - that night at my apartment. Funny how I couldn't remember a time when we weren't friends, but managed to destroy probably every connection we've ever had by shutting her out. It has been awful, being so distanced from everyone and everything. Rachel visited, Jacob visited ... Even Quinn came by. It was nice, but not enough.
And now I'm back. For this stupid Rachel freaking Berry party.
Why did Quinn make me go to this? Rachel's, like, annoying and bossy and self-obsessed and not even close as being as hot as me. When she invited me in Atlanta, months ago, I never actually said I'd come. But now here I am. There's music and booze and joy all around the place, but not for me. I'm just hanging out at the bar, keeping a close connection with my fifth refill. The bitterness of the disgusting cocktail - the only one they have over here - sends shivers down my spine, but that's not the worst thing of my night. No, in front of me, there's the one and only Brittany S. Pierce - the love of my life - dancing with another girl. They look close. Too fucking close for me to be comfortable. Quinn told me over the phone, three weeks ago, that Britt's "kind of seeing a girl". That's when my pathetic act hit rock bottom. The only reason I agreed to come back to town for this party was because I couldn't come up with a better excuse myself to see her again. My heart broke even more when I finally laid eyes on her perfection again, thirty minutes ago. I thought it'd make me feel better, that I'd be relieved to realize she isn't just part of my imagination - that my memories are in fact real. Except I'm not.
She looks breathtakingly stunning. And still so freaking adorable, even after all the heartbreak I've put her through. I'm still in love with her and the devastating, crushing amount of my feelings is an agonizing thing to realize. I wish it would stop. I wish my feelings would just freaking stop for a while. I thought I could come back here and see her with this girl ... and it'd be okay. You know, time heals everything, right? We've moved on and time has passed and ... Well, that's a big freaking, fucking lie. Seeing her with that girl felt like a slap in the face.
Luckily, Quinn's there to calm me down every time I'm about to set one of my clumsy plans to make her new girl trip into action.
"Just go over there." She advised me twenty five minutes ago. "She'll be so happy to finally see you again."
But I refused immediately: "I'd rather she didn't see me. It's too early. She looks happy. I can't ruin that."
After a seventh and an eighth drink, I decide that I can no longer stare at her like that. I'm ruining my entire night. Even worse, I'm ruining Quinn's night, who has stood loyally by my side ever since we arrived and hasn't had a chance to take part in the dancing and cheering at all. I think Rachel's even mad at her for being this boring. Quinn's such a good friend to me. If only I could kick that blonde girl's ass, that'd make me feel a lot better and we could just go on with the party. The chick's pretty, sure, but I'm way prettier. I'm the hottest bitch in this place and Brittany's blind if she can't see that. Well, technically, she hasn't seen me yet.
"Here it comes."
Quinn looks up to me and sips her drink once more before asking what I am talking about.
"The moment I stop caring for the rest of the night." I specify.
"Oh. Good!" she quietly says with little emotion.
I empty my glass and turn around. A guy walks up to me. He's kind of cute, but obviously too old for me. And a guy. Some parts of his hair are starting to grow grey. You know, the Patrick Dempsey look. The 'super hot but he could be my dad' kind of way. Maybe Quinn's interested ...
"So, how are you doing, pretty lady?"
I look up to him and display my disapproving attitude. Who is he, the next Joey from Friends? He doesn't pick up on the rejecting hint, though, and orders the waiter another drink for me. Great, now I get the chance to end up being even more drunk. Quinn silently smirks next to me, but says nothing at all. She's enjoying this. As I finally find myself to soften up a little bit and tell myself to respectably approach the guy before I scare him away, his eyes wander to the deep cleavage of a woman passing by.
"You really seem to like women, don't you?" I ask him charmingly.
He nods, weirdly impressed by my eye for detail: "Yeah. I do."
That pretentious half smile makes me sick. I roll my eyes and sigh deeply. Men. I put my arm around a surprised Quinn, who was just minding her own business, enjoying a nice cocktail on her own, and fake a self-conscious smirk. Quinn doesn't reject. She just plays along.
"Cool, so do I." I proudly say with a big, confident smile covering my face.
I turn my head to Quinn and kiss her softly on the lips. Besides blinking heavily with surprise, Quinn doesn't stop me. The guy's gone by the time Rachel walks over to ask if we're having a good time. We actually are, I guess: I'm laughing. But I won't admit to it.
"Do I look like I'm having a good time, Hobbit?" I ask, totally annoyed.
She doesn't really react, simply puts her focus on Quinn. I guess she's letting me have this one, for being so goddamn sad. They talk a little about fashion and make up and by the end of the conversation, I'm so bored that I can't stand it anymore.
"Your dress is really pretty, Rachel." Quinn decides, putting a teasing hand on her left shoulder.
I frown. Is it me, or are they totally acting weird?
"And you smell really good tonight."
I nearly choke in my drink. Oh, my God. That's flirting! I recognize that behavior everywhere - I invented it! I keep observing and find them acting stranger by the second.
"That's not my perfume you're smelling. That's my natural scent." Rachel says.
I'm not sure if she's joking. She probably isn't.
But I can't help but smirk: "Well, at least now we know where that stench is coming from."
Quinn subtly kicks my left calf and the stabbing pain shuts me up. Come on, that one was just too easy to let it go to waste. I decide to approach things differently.
"So, what's going on between the two of you? Are you, like, humping each other or what?" I ask relentlessly.
Their expressions surprises me. They look caught. Very, very caught. I can't progress this.
"What the fuck? Quinn!?"
She's looking at me, but can't answer immediately. It's true! They've ... Quinn and Rachel!? Oh, my freaking God. My stomach turns.
"I've only been gone for six months and you all turned gay?"
But Rachel steps up and shakes her head: "No, no, no. It's just ... We were drunk one night and we were talking about all the super hot sex stories of you and Brittany and we ... well."
She looks over to her embarrassed friend.
"We tried it ourselves. Okay? We just ... had a little fun." Quinn adds shyly, trying to put the conversation to an end so all the people standing next to us won't pick up on the subject.
I'm completely startled. Too startled to even blink. I'm going to ignore this. I'm going to ignore the fact that my oldest friend in the history of my life has slept with the Hobbit herself. It's just too much to progress. A little bit disgusting, too. I mean, it's possible that I threw up in my mouth a second ago.
"Besides, you're the one to say. You're totally doing your assistant." Rachel adds defensively.
I frown and shake my head with wonder: "What? Marley!? Are you freaking kidding me? The girl's just ... my assistant."
But Quinn bursts into insane laughter: "Yeah, right! I've only spoken to her for about a minute since you both arrived in Lima and let me tell you: the girl's only got eyes for you. Like a cute, enchanted, loved up puppy."
But the teasing is starting to piss me off: "Look, Fabray, I am not seeing Marley. She's just a cute, innocent, hardworking girl. And she happens to be my assistant, so sucking up to me and all of my friends is a very important part of her job."
Just as I'm about to look away and stick to my plan of enjoying myself a little bit more, Brittany - who's apparently ten feet away from me right now - gets hugged in a too familiar way by her girlfriend. And of course I'm here to see it happen. It's not just a hug, but a tender, warm, emotional, full-on embrace in the middle of the dance floor. It's clear my intoxicated ex-girlfriend enjoys it and the sight of that sneaky smile over that girl's shoulder that was once reserved for me, makes me lose control like never before. We're talking about a full-blown panic attack. That exact same moment, Brittany's eyes meet mine for the first time in six freaking months and I discover that she's so overwhelmed by her surprise that it makes her stop breathing. Her expression is extremely shocking to witness. She never expected me to be here. I see her letting go of the girl that's holding on to her tightly and her lips mouth my name in wonder, like she's not sure if she's just seen a ghost. It a painful thing to realize that she forgot about me for a second. Tears suddenly burst out of my eyes and I don't just walk away, no, I run away. I cross Marley, the cute and innocent brunette, who was chatting with some colleagues at the lobby and she immediately picks up on the panicking face I'm carrying. She follows me, that much I'm aware, but I can't wait around for her. I quickly find the exit route to soak up some fresh air and collapse at the nearest thing I can sit on, a massive flower pot. I'm such a coward. I can't even pretend to be okay. I can't even walk over to her and say hi, even though that's the only thing I want to do.
"Are you alright?"
Brittany appears in front of me. My hasty breathing stops for a while as I stare at her, but my mouth refuses to say anything. I'm just completely caught off guard by her presence. It's unreal - Brittany standing in front of me is unreal. It's like the first day that I can see again, since I left. Like she's kept my heart while I was away and now I'm close enough to hear it beating again. And I'm hot and warm at the same time. She looks worried, yet she can't make herself come any closer. It's been six months since we've been this close to each other. Her crappy girlfriend's nowhere to be seen, though.
The shocking sounds coming out of my mouth are upsetting her. I nod - far from being convincing - and carefully wipe away my tears without harming the mascara on my lashes.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, Marley shows up in front of us as well.
"Santana? Are you okay?"
The second person to ask me that question, but this time it's not coming from an angel's voice.
She sits down next to me and puts her arm around me. It's her gentle way of cheering me up. It's not helping at all. We have a really good understanding at work, actually. I do the talking, she absorbs everything there's to know. The girl's kind and sweet. And she's an excellent listener. I've told her about Brittany on many occasions. The moment I realized that all my friends and family were so many hours away from me, I decided that she was the only one I could confide in. And I did. Harsh and tough Santana Lopez opened up - because I had to. It was either her, or a therapist.
I refuse to cry in front of my ex, so I sniff up all the tears that are left inside of me and turn my head away from both of the girls. She has another fucking girlfriend, how can that ever be okay? How can I act rational and normal when she's ... when there's ...
"Go away, Brittany." Marley says in a harsh voice, simply to protect me.
They've never met, but she's smart enough to recognize her from the pictures on my laptop. My assistant's never the person to be rude or controlling and it surprises me completely. My ex-girlfriend doesn't move a muscle, though. She never really cares about anything anyone says, especially not this stranger. She does has a careful eye on the girl's arm around my shoulder. I loudly breathe in and out, trying to control the hyperventilation. Those ridiculous noises can't seem to go away. Nor can the people that gathered around me.
"Shut up. I'm talking to Santana." is Brittany's charming response. "San, do you need anything?"
Finally, she allows herself to walk over to me. She kneels down in front of me and I can't help but thinking that she's the prettiest girl I've ever seen. My heart skips a beat, my body freezes and I can't seem to stop staring. The caring and soft touch of her hands, cupping mine in my lap, sends my brain the pulse to relax again. I've missed this feeling so much. My breathing is getting a little bit better, but my eyes are just fixated on her long fingers, gently stroking the skin of my shaking palm. The panic attack is fading away, but the crying just continues and I'm the only person in this country that pretends as if it isn't happening.
I'm staring at her fingers. Those are mine. My fingers. They are meant to touch me, I know that. I can feel it this very instant.
I see it all in my head again: the hugging, the cheerful dancing, the silent whispers and out loud laughing I have witnessed for the last hour. It wasn't me who stood beside her. A long, deep breath fills my lungs with fresh air and it's the first one I had in the last few minutes. "No," I say in a soft, but convincing voice, "Marley's here. Go back inside, Brittany, I'm fine."
The way I just say it totally catches her off-guard. I'm denying her presence. I guess she never wanted me to find out that she was dating someone new. But how could she be this unthoughtful - I mean: we know all the same people. Of course the news would get back to me. She quickly gets up on her feet to look at a worried Marley - completely clueless. I squeeze the fingers that have taken over from Brittany and turn my head to face my caring assistant. Brittany just stands there and looks around, confused and lost. After a couple of seconds, her body turns away from me to find its way back to the entrance of the hotel. She checks on me to see if I am doing the same thing. I'm not. Eventually, she's gone.
"So." Marley hesitantly sighs, before showing her worried face. "That was pretty awkward. I'm sure she's going to fire me tomorrow."
I pinch my eyes to throw her my most vicious look, but can't help the smile that's taking over rather quickly.
"Do you want to leave, Santana? I can excuse you easily. Jetlag, headache, work, ..."
I nod and smile, because it sounds like a perfect idea. But then I realize: I can't do this to Rachel. This is her night. This is her celebration. My heartache can't ruin that. A deep sigh escapes my lungs. Goddamned, I must be close to my lowest point in life right now, since going back to a Rachel Berry party is one of the better options left today.
Be brave, Santana. Fight back the tears and go back inside. Applause like Rachel Berry's biggest fucking fan when she accepts her honorable sign and don't look at Brittany anymore. It's not that hard - you can do it. I can do it!
Marley understands my motives and escorts me back inside. I hold it together for a solid ten minutes, while Rachel's up on the stage and accepting some bling bling. That is until I stumble up on Brittany and Jacob. Marley went to get us some drinks, which leaves me here all alone, five feet away from the cousins - with some anonymous breathing space to disappear into the crowd. I can tell that my ex-boyfriend's been drinking, while my ex-girlfriend's just genuinely pissed off about what happened outside.
Santana Lopez, the number one reference to fuck up your life.
"So, where's your little girlfriend?" Jacob asks mischievously. "Got tired of her and looking for a new victim?"
The familiarity of his voice allows me to hear it through the music. Brittany's not putting up with his intoxicated shit: "What the hell are you talking about, Jacob? Leave me alone, you're drunk."
The guy's not listening. I hate it when he's like that.
"What is she, really? Out and pride? I thought your girlfriends are usually the hiding in the closet type of girls?"
He's acting viciously. Alcohol has that effect on him. The light in her eyes changes. She's had enough, that much is clear. I hold my breath in anticipation.
"No, Jacob, my girlfriends are usually the ones with boyfriends that can't please them."
His self-confident smirk immediately shifts to a dark and raging expression and before anyone realizes what's going on, he moves his body so close against her that for the first time ever, I see a fearful look in her eyes. He's grabbed her upper arm and it scares me - I'm so afraid something bad is going to happen, that I actually drop my glass of champagne to the ground. We've all drawn attention - everyone's got their eyes on us. He's close to violently throwing her to the ground, when Susan appears and pushes him a couple of inches back. Brittany's arm gets released and it allows my heart to beat again. That was close, that was too close.
Brittany turns her head, finally picking up on the sound of breaking glass from a few seconds ago and sees how my panicking face just stares at the scene. There's no expression on her face, what so ever. Her eyes are blank, there's no light - no emotion.
"Go away, Jacob." Susan says strictly. "Now! Walk away now."
His attitude softens up again and it's like another personality kicks in. Shocked by what just happened, he puts yet another step backwards to stare at his shaking hands.
"I'm sorry, aunt Susan." he says in a garbled voice. "I didn't mean to ... I ... I'm sorry."
He swallows deeply and I see the adam's apple going up and down along his throat. Brittany and Jacob stare at each other for a while and it seems like they're not even mad at each other. They're just mad at the world. At me. When he turns his head to walk away from them, his eyes meet mine and I don't know how to react. I just stand here and pant nervously, because there's nothing I can do to fix this. This is not the guy I dated, but, sadly, I created this version of him. My infidelity and all the lies have turned him into this revengeful and angry person whenever we're both around. Sad to admit, but Alex' right. Alex' freaking right.
My legs are trembling and my knees feel weak. I need to go. I have to get away from here.
But for the second time tonight, Brittany's going after me. She grabs my hand as I'm halfway down the red carpet in the foyer and her touch makes me shiver immediately.
"Wait. Santana, wait!" she demands.
Her hand feels amazing. Powerful, dominant. I can't breathe because she's freaking touching me. Our eyes meet as she rushes in front of me to hold me back with both of her arms stretched out. Baby blue - just like I remembered.
"You at least owe me five freaking seconds, don't you think?"
I lick my bottom lip and decide that rolling my eyes is an appropriate thing to do. I can't do this right now.
Such a fool I've been - such an idiot to believe that this trip would mean nothing, because, fuck, it means everything! It means seeing her again and smelling her scent ... It means missing her even harder, even though she's standing right next to me. I means she's seeing this other girl.
"Why are you here? Why didn't you tell me that you were coming back?"
I shake my head and laugh viciously: "Because I'm not back-back, Brittany. I'm just here for two weeks, to do Rachel a favor."
She uses those puppy eyes and it takes everything to not cave. She lets go of me.
"That's not the only reason, is it?"
I shake my head as tears are fighting to break through. That girl's got me all figured out.
"You know well enough that ... You must know that ..." My voice cracks.
I choke before I can find the appropriate words. She nods, because - yes - she knows. She knows very well why I came back.
"Come to my place." she asks me bluntly. "Please? Just this night and tomorrow we can ..."
Fire in her eyes. I recognize it. She has no further explanation. But I can't. I've seen the girl. I can't undo that. Brittany's genuinely disappointed. In a desperate attempt, she holds on to my wrists and I finally stare her in eyes.
"Then can I at least kiss you? After all this time, can I please - please just kiss you?"
She's begging. Her words make me go weak. I can't feel my knees anymore and my heart's pounding like crazy. I don't exactly say no. She's moving in to me. Her head's an inch away from mine - our lips are separated by a breath. They hoover over mine and the tension is so real that it seems to be an extension of her flesh, like her lips are actually touching mine through some magically connection. I can't breathe while she's so close to me. I can only think of how fucking amazing it'd be if she'd actually kiss me. But a second passes, and other agonizing one. And as the painful teasing continues, I see a twist in her behavior. I'm not rejecting, but I'm not playing along either - and that's just not enough. Our bodies part, even though she's still holding on to me. We almost kissed. We almost freaking kissed after six dreadful months. I close my eyes and pant heavily, like I just ran a marathon.
"You still love me, Santana. I can see it. I can see that you still do. You left me behind and it hurt. But you were wrong when you did and I'm going to prove you. I want you back and I'll get you back. I promised Lord Tubbington."
She's saying it quietly, like it's a caring promise. A certainty. Her silliness would make me smile if I wasn't so captivated by the moment. She walks away and leaves me behind. In pain, in shock, in some strange sort of ecstasy. I need to call Marley.
An hour later, I allow myself to walk into my old bedroom at my parents' house, the ones that nearly hugged me to death at the airport. It's great to see them again, to be closer than Skype or texting can bring us. It's funny how you never realize how much you miss certain people until you're many miles apart. My phone beeps as I'm stripping down - ready for my beauty sleep - and it's not just a regular text message. No, it's a Twitter alert, and I'm always very curious about those. Brittany's name flashes up and that causes my heart to skip a beat. A dry throat, sweaty palms, moist eyes - yep, she still has the same effect on me. I open the notification. She tagged me. My entire face lights up with wonder when I read what she just posted.
"PM SantanaLopez , I wish we could just forget about everything that's happened and fuck each other's brain out - just one night xxx Britt."
An embarrassing feeling takes over, because, clearly, she made the wrong assumption about where to put this slightly intimate statement. My fingers run over the touchscreen and a smile plays along unawarely.
"Dear BrittBritt_Unicorn , putting 'PM' in front of a Tweet doesn't make it an actual PM. x San."
Did you guys like it? I couldn't leave you guys waiting for another week before the next Brittana moment took place. Don't worry, all will be better from now on ... Trust me ;)