Chapter XXVI
A/N: A special shout out to user boringsiot: Every time you review I attempt to PM you to tell you how great you are, and each time I forget that you don't allow PMs. So I will say it here. Thank you so much for your consistent reviews of my chapters. People like you are the ones keep me trucking along with this story.
Oh and hey Grilled Cheesus, it's great to have you back.
Once again, thank you to every single one of you as well. I'm really loving all of the feedback. And without further adieu here is your chapter 26...
Quinn's POV
Allow me to tell you about my summer before my senior year.
Objectively, it should have been one of the best summers of my life. My future was looking brighter than ever. I had received almost perfect grades, which brought me closer to my goal of attending Yale. My father gave me my first professional grade camera, and it was as though I had found a whole new perspective to explore the world from.
I was invited to every party. I was never without something to do. I was far from at a loss for friends, and if I didn't want to be social, I had my camera, or my canvass at home.
Gradually I was receiving more requests at work for private lessons.
And, of course, I was living the dream that I had ever since I was a first grader that was pulled onto the high school football field by the cheerleaders during half-time; I was Captain of the Cheerios. I was Head Bitch, Queen Bee, whatever you want to call it, I was it. Summer training was tougher than ever, but there was nothing better than leading the best squad in the country.
I should have been more grateful. There was many a person who would have killed to switch places with me at the top of the pyramid and at the top of the social ladder.
But, instead of spending the summer floating on a fluffy cloud of happiness, I spent the summer desperately trying to get over a girl who I had never even been under.
Well, at least not in the way that I had wanted to be under her anyway.
Things were never the same between us after I had forced her out of bed to talk about us while we were in NYC.
The "conversation" couldn't have gone worse.
Since then, I only spoke to Santana when it was absolutely essential for me to do so. Ever since our trip to Nationals, we were only civil to each other. We didn't argue, we didn't flirt, and we didn't talk about anything except for work or cheerleading.
Brittany noticed the change in our dynamic right away, and she made a few efforts throughout the summer to try to bring us closer together again. For example, in mid-June she invited us both over for a slumber party at her house, but as soon as we found out that the other was going, we both cancelled.
One day after cheer camp Brittany told me how excited she had been that Santana and I had been getting along so well, and that she had been looking forward to spending the summer together as the Unholy Trinity should. It really made my heart hurt to have disappointed the blue eyed girl, but I just couldn't make myself patch things up with Santana.
I doubted that Brittany would have been so adamant about fixing Santana and I if she had known what had caused our falling out in the first place.
Our distance was a strain on our other friendships as well. It was strange how we had spent three years at each other's throats and I had never really noticed how that had impacted the people around us. Now, looking back, I couldn't imagine how many casualties there had been. I never cared enough to concern myself with how a war between the two arguably most powerful and popular girls in school would harm the village people caught in the in between.
This wasn't war anymore; in fact, we were nothing save for cordial acquaintances. I hadn't expected for that to be difficult on our friends. But, I was absent at more than one get together over the summer because I knew that the source of my misery would be in attendance. When I did show up to a gathering, often times Santana would be the one absent or she would leave shortly after my arrival. We were like two influential ships passing in the night.
Mercedes and I became even closer that summer. I still didn't open up to her, or anyone else for that matter, about Santana, but she was great about making me smile without any sort of admission of sadness on my part. Sure, she asked a bunch of questions, but she would drop a topic if I told her that I was serious about her doing so.
Most of us Glee kids were closer than ever, although Nationals did cause a bit of a chasm between many of us for a short time, but I'll get to that later.
It would have been nice to have someone to talk to about how I was feeling. It was my fault that I had no one to speak to about it, and I knew that. But I couldn't risk being labeled something and have it get back to my family. Especially when whatever had been going on between Santana and I was clearly over.
I had never felt like this before. The only thing close to the heartbreak that I was experiencing was what I had felt when Santana disappeared on me in eighth grade.
That was devastating, but this was somehow worse. I didn't just lose my best friend. I lost everything that I never knew that I wanted.
It was stupid. We hadn't even dated and yet I was acting like someone going through a break up.
I missed her kiss. I missed her touch. I missed her tropical fruit scent. I missed the particular smile that I never saw her give to anyone but me. I missed how safe she made me feel. I missed how she was constantly teaching and showing me new things. I missed being the ear that she would lean into when she had a snarky comment about someone else in the room.
I missed how she would randomly take my hand to lead me somewhere. I missed her special brand Lopez hugs. I missed being one of the few people who had a degree of insight into the mystery that was her. I missed being the cause of her laugh. I missed receiving her hilarious and often insightful text commentary. I missed what an impenetrable force we had been. I missed debating homework answers with her as we lounged around on her bedroom floor.
I missed her flirtatious and sometimes borderline crude comments. I missed the way that she would breathe beside me as she slept. I missed our playful banter. I missed the escape that she and her house offered me from my parents. I missed how one glance from her from across a crowded room could make me feel like we were the only ones there.
I missed her. Every day. And yet, I couldn't tolerate being around her.
When I told Santana that I needed space, I hadn't expected that space to last the whole summer.
But, she never called. She never made an effort to approach me or to apologize for the way that she had acted. Maybe she had been waiting for me to tell her that I was ready to be friends again or maybe not. I didn't know what she was waiting for because I never asked.
After the first month of summer, I stopped expecting anything from her at all.
I had felt like we had been on the precipice of something incredible, but now we were nothing but co-captains, and co-workers.
It was probably better this way. I knew now that I couldn't compartmentalize my feelings for Santana. We were never meant to be just friends. Not with the way that I felt.
Even though we weren't fighting all the time, and we weren't making out every week/every other week, being in her vicinity was still very challenging most of the time.
Let's just say that summer looks very good on Santana Lopez.
Her caramel skin seemed to grow tanner with our every encounter. Cheer camp all summer was absolute torture. It was eight hour days filled with Armour Sports bra wearing, abs glistening with sweat, displaying a ridiculous amount of flawless skin Santana. All fucking summer.
Even if she wasn't such a mouthwatering specimen, she would still be hot. There was just no way that I could watch her in leader mode, and also observe her constantly demonstrating such a ridiculous degree of athletic prowess without being attracted to her.
I dreaded the days that we had to take the girls to the foam pit. It was a constant battle with myself. I rotated between avoiding her eyes completely and all out searching for hers. I was a mess, but the last thing that I wanted was for her to see that. Just being in that stupid gymnasium gave me butterflies.
Worse than cheer camp days in the new gymnasium, were group social outings. That's why I did what I could to avoid the big group get togethers. At cheer practice I only had to deal with Santana, but for non-school related activities I had to often deal with Santana and Sadie.
After various pleading phone calls from Mercedes, Kurt, and even Puckerman, I had reluctantly agreed to go with them to the beach one weekend. It was miserable.
The sun was lovely, and the water was wonderful, but the view…it left much to be desired. Of course, I'm not talking about the view of Santana's perfectly ripped body in a bikini, or adorable face she would make when she would laugh, or the super pleased with herself look that she would get after she would spike the volleyball into the ground during beach volleyball.
I'm talking about having to watch Sadie and Santana play around with each other in the water. It was physically painful to be around them while they were applying sun tan lotion to one another. I silently wished that someone had swapped the lotion with something ineffective just so the ginger would get a nasty burn.
Thank god that I had only agreed to go on the condition that I drive myself. I forced myself to stay a couple of hours before peeling out of there and speeding far far away.
At parties they were often on each other's laps. At work it was non-stop flirting, and they often came to work together which drove me mad. After all, there was no need for them to carpool, because Sadie lived in another town completely. I hated myself for coming to that realization, because it was after that realization that I started to notice the occasional presence of Sadie's car in Santana's driveway.
It made a girl want to move.
It seemed insane to me how badly it hurt. That sort of agony should only be reserved for the real sort of loss. If it could get worse than this, I was honestly grateful that I didn't get in any deeper with Santana before we fell apart.
According to Mercedes, Santana and Sadie were actually dating and not just fucking. It wasn't a piece of gossip that I had ever wanted to know, but she raised the subject as if it were just another random fact on her blabbermouth blog. There was no way that she could have known that I had almost had to excuse myself to go get sick in the bathroom.
Santana didn't put her personal life on blast by any means, but I was pretty sure that she had never dated anyone besides Puck, and even that was pretty much a joke.
Why was Sadie different? What made her so special to get the ever elusive prize of Santana's commitment? If they were in fact exclusive, that is.
It made me sick that Santana couldn't even commit to an honest fucking conversation with me but she could commit to a relationship with that redheaded slut.
Santana and I weren't anything to each other anymore and yet I was still killing myself in attempt to figure her out. I couldn't stand it.
The whole situation did give me a whole new dynamic to my art at least. I began creating things that I never knew that I could, and now I had plenty of extra free time to do so. Without going out of my way to spend every free moment with Santana, and with avoiding most social situations in general, I threw myself into my art. Since I had no one to talk to, it was my only effective means of therapy.
A perfect example of this, was that it was currently a beautiful Saturday afternoon, my last weekend before school was to start up again, and instead of venturing out with my friends, I was seated at the easel in my room. I wouldn't have had it any other way. Even better, both of my parents were going to be out at some stupid networking BBQ all night and I would have the house to myself for a few hours.
This is the third text I have sent you, woman. I won't even try to convince you to come to Puck's tonight, but please come to a movie with Tina and I before the party.
Mercedes "Bust Your Windows" text tone sounded for the third time in the past half an hour. I set my palette down with a sigh, fighting the guilt caused by my recent dodging of many of my friends.
I'm not really in the mood 'Cedes. I'm sorry.
It was the first text I had sent back to her three. She would be right to assume that attempting to get me to go to Puck's would be a complete waste of effort. The only place Santana would be more likely to be than at a Puck party would be at her own. Even then, the chances were pretty much even.
Puck was one person that I had rarely seen all summer. It was a necessary casualty of my separation from Santana. The two of them were practically family. The prince and princess of mayhem. I kinda missed him, but not enough to deal with the Sadie and Santana show.
You know I love you girl, but you've been acting real off ever since Nationals. I know losing is a new feeling for you, but it's been three months. I miss you. We all do.
Oh wow, she must think I'm really ridiculous if she believes my recent behavior is because of our Nationals loss.
It's hard to breathe, and I barely have any solo lines. I can't imagine how nervous the more major players must be.
This is so much different than Cheerios Nationals. I had been preparing for that particular arena since I was 8-years-old. This, well, this I had fallen into because of Finn last year. It's the best thing he ever did for me, actually.
It doesn't help that I barely slept. Mercedes and Kurt had claimed a two person sleeping arrangement, but Kurt was in too deep of a sleep to protest when I pushed my way in beside him. There was no way that I was going to sleep in a bed with Santana after how she had treated me. It was bad enough to have to be in the same room as her.
I am furious with her, and even that is probably an understatement. But the weight on my chest, and the burning ache in my stomach isn't just fury. It is a sort of agony that I can't push away no matter how much I try to focus on my anger rather than my pain.
I had thought that Santana was different. But, the Santana that I experienced this morning was the same girl who tried to ruin my life for three years. She was heartless, and a coward, and yet, she was still capable of breaking my heart.
But this is competition time. I may not be the most talented singer in the bunch, but I know how to get myself into competition mode. This is bigger than Santana and I. This is my family and they deserve me at my best for this.
After all they had done for me, this, this I can do for them. And I will.
The music for our new opening number begins, and Sugar takes one of my hands as Tina takes the other. For now, we wait.
Santana exaggerates the natural sultry sway of her hips as she enters from the other end of the stage, stepping into the spotlight. The sound that she releases from those luscious lips causes my thighs to tremble.
Ooh, baby don't you know I suffer?
Oh, baby can you hear me moan?
You caught me under false pretenses
How long before you let me go?
Can you say moan during a high school show choir competition? I guess we had seen much worse.
This is far better than our original song choice. No matter how I feel about Santana, I can't deny how brilliantly smooth and erotic her voice sounds for this.
Tina releases my hand to enter the stage with a few other members while Santana flattens her hands on her thighs, crouching down slightly as our club floods onto the stage in front of her.
That's my cue.
Ooh, you set my soul alight
Ooh, you set my soul alight
We form a human wall in front of Santana, and the sound of her incredibly sexy voice behind me sends the tiny hairs on my neck on end.
Here it comes.
This one is for the boys with the boomin' system
Top down, AC with the coolin' system
When he come up in the club, he be blazin' up
Got stacks on deck like he savin' up
And he I'll, he real, he might gotta deal
He pop bottles and he got the right kind of bill
He cool, he dope, he drinks a lot of coke
He always in the air, but he never fly coach
He is up on a trip, trip, captin of the ship, ship
When he make it drip, drip kiss him on the lip
That's the kind of dude I was lookin' for
And yes you'll get slapped if you're lookin' yo'
Santana busts through our human wall, and we all fall forward in synchronization as she leaps over and past us. She doesn't miss a beat, although I certainly didn't expect her to. Through my cloud of concentration, I can hear many in the crowd scream in unison.
Glaciers melting in the dead of night
And the superstars sucked into the supermassive
(Ooh, you set my soul alight)
Glaciers melting in the dead of night
And the superstars sucked into the supermassive
(Ooh, you set my soul)
Mercedes' voice initiates the layering of the two songs, and I raise my voice to join with hers as I dance walk to my part of the bleachers.
Boy you got my heartbeat runnin' away
Beating like a drum and it's coming your way
Can't you hear that boom, badoom, boom, boom, badoom, boom, baby super bass
Boom, badoom, boom, boom, badoom, boom, baby super bass
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Mike and Brittany flipping over each other at the front of the stage. If I didn't know them, I would be worried about their safety, but knowing them, I have complete faith in their accuracy.
I thought I was a fool for no one
Oh baby I'm a fool for you
You're the queen of the superficial
And how long before you tell the truth
Santana's singing penetrates the other layers of the mashup as Mike lifts her to rest one leg on his shoulder, spinning them both around.
This one is for the boys in the polos
Entrepreneur jiggas in the moguls
He could ball with the crew, he could solo
But I think I like him better when he dolo
And I think I like him better with the fitted cap on
He ain't even gotta try to put the mac on
He just gotta give me that look, when he give me that look
Then the parties going off, off, uh
As the Santana performs her second rap verse, I'm able to get a proper chance to look out into the crowd. People are definitely on their feet. Despite her original discomfort with rapping for Nationals, her rhythm and enunciation are just flawless. She's unbelievable. I am sure that Rachel is eating her words of protest against the rapping idea right now. At least she is if she has any sense at all.
Supermassive black hole
Supermassive black hole
Supermassive black hole
Supermassive black hole
This part is all mine, and I do my best to project the throaty sing whisper that Mr. Schue had wanted me to do. Mercedes had reassured me over and over again during run throughs that I sounded good. Well, "hot" was the way that she put it, and Puck and Artie had both chimed in to agree. Even with all of the encouragement, it still sounds downright awkward to me.
Boy you got my heartbeat runnin' away
Beating like a drum and it's coming your way
Can't you hear that boom, badoom, boom, boom, badoom, boom, baby super bass
Boom, badoom, boom, boom, badoom, boom, baby super bass
Mike and Brittany pop and lock around Santana and the others who are singing the chorus. We all place our fists over our hearts, and we do our best to pop our chests out to the beat. Only a few of us are convincing, and I am not one of them, but the crowd certainly does not seem to mind, as they are roaring loudly well after the song ends.
Looking back, we should have won. Not to be cocky, but we were amazing. From our opening mash-up of Muse's Supermassive Black Hole and Karmin's version of Nicki Minaj's Super Bass, to our moving performance of Cold Shoulder. We, by far, had the most heart on that stage.
I had almost ruined my stage makeup during Cold Shoulder. Santana had always performed well in practice, but her part of the song during our Nationals performance was just so raw. It was still so eerie to hear Santana sing part of the song that I had long ago associated with her.
Our chances at the National title came crashing down when Rachel and Finn reprised their Faithfully performance from Regionals last year. Only this time, instead of using the song as foreplay for their future relationship, they used it as their own personal makeup sex. Well, their version of makeup sex, anyway. They eye fucked each other the entire song before Finn smashed his awkward lips against Rachel's once the song ended.
It was because of that kiss, our scorecards basically said, that we ranked eighth instead of first.
On the way back to the hotel after finding out our ranking, the vast majority of us were silent. Santana's silence was of the dangerous variety however, but only Puck, Brittany and I seemed to notice it. We exchanged nervous glances the entire ride back, and I watched as Puck leaned over to both Sam and Mike to tell them something as we entered the elevator. I assumed that he had been warning them.
My suspicions were confirmed after we all returned to the hotel room. Santana had seated herself on the arm of the pull out couch. Her arms were crossed and her eyes were practically black. The three tall men had moved to stand behind her as soon as she had sat down.
We were all devastated, and we were all absolutely pissed at the mismatched couple, because we knew that we should have won. All of that work, for them to screw us over at the last minute. I was already a National Champion, but that was the only chance that many of them would have to be one. Unless we miraculously would make it there again the next year.
Santana's trigger was when Finn had started criticizing the judges for docking us for "the Superman of all kisses". Santana had absolutely lost it. Thankfully, Sam, Puck, and Mike had all grabbed Santana as soon as she had lurched from her seat and in Finn's direction.
I had no idea what she said during her struggle against the six arms holding her, because it was shouted in some very heated Spanish. I had been pretty positive that profanity was involved however.
A petrified Finn had covered his crotch with his hands as if that would somehow save him from our very skilled friend.
Rachel didn't even raise her head while Santana was screaming. She was too busy crying into her hands.
Santana had eventually begun to wrench herself free of those hands. I had known that she wasn't attempting to hurt any of her friends that were holding her, but she was irate.
It was then that I had stepped in the middle of Santana's path to Finn. No one else was jumping into action, and I had feared that Santana was going to free herself from the guys at any second.
I had forced eye contact with her, said her name, and looking into those black pools was much like what I would imagine staring into a wild animal's eyes would be like. But the Spanish had finally stopped, and I ordered Santana to take a walk.
Puck had released her with a nod from me, and I remembered shaking as Santana eventually left the room with one last burning glare in Finn's direction. I was never afraid that Santana would hurt me, but I had been seriously concerned that she was going to kill Finn. I didn't have love for the guy, but he was still a friend, and I didn't want Santana to do something that I knew she would regret later.
I distinctly recall that upon Santana's exit, the entire room had seemed to let out a breath that we had all been holding.
You know I love you girl, but you've been acting real off ever since Nationals. I know losing is a new feeling for you, but it's been three months. I miss you. We all do.
I reread Mercedes' text four times before I resolved myself to agree to go to the movie. I had already lost Santana. I couldn't afford to risk losing more friends. Not that I didn't have many to spare, but genuine friends like Mercedes were exceedingly rare when you're the head cheerleader.
After her texting her back that I would go to the movie, I slowly began cleaning my painting area, hoping that I wouldn't be stuck watching the latest cheesy chick flick.
Santana's POV
"You're late." I yelled at my best friend, rolling my shoulders back, as he jumped out of his jeep to cross my lawn to meet me.
"Hey, since you stopped helping me procure my party booze, it takes me longer to get the goods." He smirked at me, but I knew that he was being somewhat serious.
Puck had decided to host our last bash before school started up again, but only after I had refused to act as the hostess. I was definitely still going to be there though.
"I told you, I have to cool it for a while in the illegal activities department. My mom wasn't too keen on me using her to get the girls into the club in NYC. She promised to make life difficult for me if she catches me stepping out of line again." I defended myself for the thousandth time, spreading my legs before leaning forward to place my palms flat on the ground beneath me.
I loved stretching after a long week of cheer camp. It was always a delicious sort of pain.
"Yeah yeah…just let me know when you're off probation. You always manage to get better shit than I do." Puck grumbled, turning his head to the side.
"Stop ogling." I chided, floating my arms over to my left foot.
I wasn't even looking at him, but I could feel his eyes on me. It really didn't bother me that much, but I enjoyed giving him a hard time. After years of friendship, I was used to his harmless roaming eyes.
"I bet if I had those shorts on, you would look too." He argued.
"Only out of gross fascination, I'm sure. You really should stretch, by the way. Especially after all of that whining you did last time when you pulled something."
Running together had become a Saturday afternoon tradition for us this summer. Puck wanted to keep in great shape for football and the ladies, and I really just appreciated the company.
"Sure, mom. I'll get right on that." Puck teased, and I could hear him playing with the keys in his hand instead of following my direction.
I rolled my eyes at him. I hated when he pointed out my maternal instincts. I continually tried to cover any sign of them with insults, but I guess I was caring less about hiding them than I used to.
"In defense of my ogling, you have majorly decreased the availability of eye candy around here." The mohawked man whined, as I squatted down to stretch my hips with the outside of my arms.
"Oh please, without me, you wouldn't have half of the girls attending your party that you do." I countered, sighing into my stretch.
"But Sadie counted for like at least a dozen of those girls." He exaggerated.
"Then you date her! We've gone over this. She prefers my team, but she's not entirely opposed to yours." I stood, swinging my right arm behind me in a circle.
It had been roughly two weeks since I had broken things off with Sadie. We were together officially for about two months. When her assertive-self had asked to be exclusive with me, I couldn't think of a good reason why we shouldn't be. I wasn't having sex with anyone else at the time, and I liked being around her.
I had never been in a real relationship before and I was far from an expert on how one acts in a relationship. I didn't know how often I was supposed to text or call her or how long was too long to go without replying to one of her texts. It felt kinda like work at times, and I was not a fan.
Things stopped being fun with Sadie. In all likeliness, that was my fault and not hers. The girlfriend label didn't change her behavior, it changed mine. I was the one who acted like a weirdo.
It wasn't even that I wanted to be able to mess around with other girls. Sadie did a great job of keeping up with my sex drive, and I really didn't have time to see other women.
It was the sour taste in my mouth that I would get when she would introduce me as her girlfriend, or when she would playfully call me "hers" in a text. I had a constant sinking feeling in my gut that not only did I not belong to her, but that I really didn't belong with her either.
I had hoped that it would get better. I had thought that perhaps I just needed to get used to it. Maybe these feelings were normal after 17 years of being constructively single.
As time passed, I realized that it wasn't getting better. I didn't know if it was how I felt about her, or if it was just because I was just fucked up in general, but the relationship experiment was not working for me.
Sadie was far from stupid. She knew that we weren't on the same page, and offered me an out on three different occasions before I finally broke up with her. When I did break it off, she was upset sure, but she clearly had expected it. She told me as much.
I really wished that I could find a way to not go around hurting people all of the time. In this realm at least, I resolved to never enter into another relationship without being completely sure of it.
"Well that sounds like a treat. I prefer my women enthusiastic not 'unopposed'." Puck interrupted my dark train of thought.
"I'm turning you into such a feminist, and I love it." I grinned at him, reaching behind me, bringing my foot to my hand to stretch my right calf.
"Whoa now, I've always loved the ladies." The Puck definition of feminism. There you have it.
"I'm well aware, and just so you know, I didn't banish Sadie from our friend group or anything. I told her that she's more than welcome to continue to hang out with everyone. I know that many of you jokers took a liking to her." I reached back for my other foot as I explained.
I wanted to continue to be friends with Sadie, and I hoped to do just that as soon as she was ready. She had given me a head's up that it might be a while before she was able to move back into the friend zone, and I was okay with that. Hopefully, she didn't push my friends away because she needed space from me. Not that I could really blame her if she did.
It frustrated me that I wasn't able to make things work with her. She was really great, and far more understanding of my shit than I had ever expected her to be.
"Say what? And she hasn't taken you up on the offer?" He was clearly being sarcastic, feigning an attempt at arm circles. "You mean she doesn't want to come hang around her super hot ex-girlfriend, and all of the girls that will be trying to get into your newly single pants?"
"Watch it, I'm also your super hot ex-girlfriend." I reminded him with a wink.
"Somehow, I don't think that what we had was the same thing." He flashed me a knowing smile. He was certainly right about that.
That made me laugh really hard.
"Are you ready to get your ass kicked on this run?" I challenged after I was done laughing, rolling my neck from side to side as I began walking toward the end of the drive.
Accepting my challenge Puck broke into a jog right away, but my stomach proceeded to fall when he turned right at the end of the drive rather than left.
"Puck, let's go this way." I gestured left with my head even though he couldn't see it, calling after him as I hit the street.
He turned around without argument, but when he reached me, he stopped right in front of me.
"Why? Because Quinn lives down that way?" Hazel eyes tested mine. They were a different sort of hazel than Quinn's but they still reminded me of her. Not that it was difficult to remind me of the blonde.
"No, of course not. I just like to go left." Lie.
That was the exact reason why I had us turn left every time. I had been doing a dance to avoid Quinn all summer.
"Riiight. Just like you like to find an excuse to leave every time Quinn comes around." He lifted his eyebrows as he looked down at me.
What the fuck, Puck?
A big reason why I loved our friendship so much was because he didn't attempt to talk to me about feelings. He was there for me when I needed him, but he never pushed me to talk about why he was needed.
And here I had thought that we both preferred it that way.
"Puck, don't do this. This isn't how our relationship works. We don't talk about this stuff, and I'd like to keep it that way." I crossed my arms over my chest to punctuate my discontent.
"Well, screw you, Santana. If you haven't noticed, you're my best friend, and you have gotten me through some pretty tough shit. We both do the badass thing, so I get what this is, more than anyone, but I've given you a six month pass on talking about this. And, I think that's plenty." He was going to be stubborn. I could tell already. There was no real malice in his "screw you" but he was noticeably irritated with me.
Puck had never met his father, as I wished I had never met mine. His father sent semi-regular child support checks, and his mother worked nights to make up the difference. They had a pretty nice house, and Puck was not often left wanting, but the whole absent father thing certainly didn't leave him without any issues. He had them in abundance.
I sighed, tugging my hair tie out of my ponytail so I could run my hand through my mane.
"I didn't mean it like that. You know I love you. But, six month pass, what the fuck are you talking about?"
Puck placed one hand on the hood of his jeep, scratching his strip of hair with his other hand.
"You're my lezbro and everything, but you've been driving me nuts. I'm sick of watching you fuck yourself over." My eyes narrowed more at the nickname than the rest of what he had to say.
I hated it when he called me his lezbro. I also hated it when he would occasionally call me dude. He had been getting better about both lately, thank goodness. My thoughts on the matter were that loving women didn't make me any less feminine than the women who preferred men.
I was rapidly beginning to understand that a run was not in our future this afternoon. With that in mind, I pulled myself onto the hood of his jeep and crossed my legs.
"Say what you have to say. I'll listen." I offered genuinely.
If Puck wanted to actually have a serious discussion, then this was obviously something that was important to him.
He raised an eyebrow at that, clearly surprised.
"Can you manage to keep that mouth shut for the next ten minutes?" Puck requested, understanding my difficulty with refraining from speech.
"I had no idea you could last that long, Puck." I teased.
"Sex isn't supposed to be a marathon." He smiled at me, and a slight sense of relief washed over me. I didn't enjoy it when he was seriously irritated with me.
"It's not always a sprint either." I shot back.
"Focus!" He brought us back to the topic at hand. "Give me ten minutes." He demanded again.
"Fine. You have ten." I relented, ready to get whatever this was, over with.
"We're going back more than just six months to give you some proper context."
I opened my mouth in protest, but he held his hand up in such a similar way to how I did when I wanted people to stop talking that I couldn't help but smile and allow him to continue.
"As far back as I can remember you and Quinn were a two for one deal. It sucked because none of us boys could ever get either of you alone, and together, you were far too intimidating to approach. Even so, my hormones took over in late middle school and I started begging the less bitchy target, Quinn, to be my girlfriend. Don't get me wrong, bud, you have always been hot, but she seemed like she was less likely to have vagina dentata than you did."
I didn't know whether to laugh or grimace at his vagina teeth comment. I was pretty sure that I did both. With this walk down memory lane, I remembered why I hated middle school Puck so much.
I realized how hypocritical it was to have pushed Quinn away for the whole "lesbo" thing, and then to have grown close to Puck less than a year later.
Puck's part of the ordeal wasn't what had hurt me though. Comments like that were annoying, and they always turned my stomach in an unfortunate way, but they didn't destroy me.
Now as for Quinn, I had naively believed that she was my soul mate of sorts. I had thought that I was in love with her. She was the only one involved in that conversation who had the ability to break my heart and she unknowingly smashed it into a million pieces.
After that, Puck was just a pawn in my scheme to knock Quinn off of her pedestal. But like Brittany, eventually my relationship with him wasn't a game anymore. I saw the jerk for who he really was, which was still a jerk, but he was a jerk with a good heart. Plus, he was about as homophobic as I was.
He was an ass, but he was my ass.
Where the fuck was this going?
I wished that I had a watch, because I wanted to end this at ten minutes exactly. Not a second later.
God, I hope he isn't going to talk about Quinn for ten minutes. I'm not sure I can stand that.
"Funny thing is, she ignores all of my AIM messages, and sends away all of my friends that bug her for me in the hallways…that is, until you ditch her. You disappear for a while, and suddenly the two hottest girls are not constantly attached to one another. I make my move once again and within a few short days, she gives in to my persistent nagging to be my lady."
I may not have been allowed to speak for ten minutes, but I could sure as hell still roll my eyes. Puck was kidding himself if he thought that he knew anything about Quinn and me.
"But the story doesn't end here, my friend. Quinn Fabray may be my girlfriend in name, but it is your name that constantly leaves her lips. She's always asking about you. She doesn't care that I have no reason to know anything about you. She pushes me to get closer to you. She tells me to be less of an ass, and actually gives me tips on how to befriend you. I'm cool with it. She won't even let me kiss her yet, and I would jump through any hoop to get to first base with the girl."
I grimaced at that. I did not want to listen to Puck discuss how much he had wanted Quinn Fabray. It made me want to punch him, and I didn't like feeling that way toward my best friend.
"When you and I…get it on…and she finds out about it I expect her to slap the shit out of me. But no, it's just more questions from her. She doesn't break up with me until weeks after that. As a former expert on the matter, that is by far the most peaceful reaction I have ever received when caught cheating."
Okay, well that's odd.
But this was all just circumstantial so far.
"After you and I do the dirty, as you know, we start hanging out more often, and I still do my recon efforts with Quinn about you hoping that yours won't be the only panties that I get to see my freshman year. No offense. Yours were…great. But I still don't give up on my pervy pursuits of Quinn even though she's now officially thrown herself into being the Celibacy Queen."
I gave him a sarcastic nod of thanks for his panties compliment.
I wanted to tell him that he was gross, but I had promised him ten minutes.
"So I slip her some info that I expect to be well received, because it's about you and your Cheerio plans, and she breaks up with me like it's nothing. No reason at all. Just so you know, I didn't fall for your girl. She has always been a fine piece of…beautiful, but she didn't give me the time of day even when we were dating."
My girl?
Fuck, am I that obvious? Does everyone know that I've always had a thing for Quinn? I must be a total joke.
I was unabashedly glaring at him by now, so much so that I didn't even give him non-verbal credit for saying "beautiful" instead of whatever lewd thing he was going to say instead.
Why the recon missions? Was she trying to figure out my next move? I didn't think she had actively made efforts to ruin me like I did her.
"Less than a year later, Finn gets quarterback and suddenly he's on Quinn's radar. You two are battling for that top spot, and he's the best way to get her there. But here's the wrench, word starts spreading that you aren't a dedicated fan of the manparts. In fact, the word on the street is that you are Brittany are getting your scissor on. Weeks within that first whisper, the President of the Celibacy Club is pregnant. The girl who would barely allow me to touch her over her clothes gets knocked up. By Finn of all people, which from the reviews I have received, I am far better in the sack than he is."
"Oh, I don't doubt that." He allowed that interruption in, of course. With as awkward as Finn is, and his complete lack of rhythm, I couldn't imagine Finn was anything but awful in bed.
Was Puck trying to infer that Quinn had sexed Finn because she found out that Brittany and I were getting it on? That seemed like quite the stretch.
"Finn's my boy. I know you hate his clumsy guts, but he's still my boy. I won't even get into what I know about what you did to Finn's junk after he dumped your girl for the Jew because this talk is not about convincing you that you are all about Quinn Fabray."
What is it about then?
I must love this boy, because I allowed him to keep going despite how painful it was to even hear the blonde's name.
"So she loses her baby, Finn drops her, and yet, despite the fact that you treat her like complete shit, she applies at the place that you work. Quinn Fabray, who is has one the few trust funds that could even conceivably rival yours, applies for a fucking job. And not just any job. A job where she is working with her very worst frienemy. She supposedly cannot stand to be in the same room with you, but she purposely chooses to spend out of school hours in your proximity."
I could have argued that point. Quinn loved her art shit, just like I loved my music. I knew firsthand that our work was not only a fantastic outlet, but it was also incredibly rewarding.
"Here's where things get sexy. Enter Sadie Brooks. Now this is no Brittany. This girl is out about who she is, she is proud, and she can keep up with your shit. She's smart, she's determined, and she's hot, and Quinn turns all dark and twisty whenever this ginger is in the vicinity."
I shot him another eye roll, but I was beginning to try to view things from Puck's perspective. Quinn's mood did always seem to darken when Sadie was involved. I had assumed that it was because she didn't like sharing the attention of our friends with another HBIC.
"This where the six month pass comes in. The underlings at this school have no idea why, but suddenly you and Quinn are no longer on the verge of cutting each other Brittany style. You two went from hot verbal battling on the daily to getting dopey looks on your faces whenever one of you comes into the room. Then Prom arrives, and Quinn can't take her eyes off of you the entire night. Every time you wander away from the group, she reaches for my flask."
I did not have a dopey look. This face was never dopey.
Ego aside, Puck was beginning to make some sense.
"Your disturbingly oblivious ass gets your mack on with Sadie and the lesbian shit hits the fruity fan. Quinn starts calling this chick all of the whorey names, and even your smokin' ginger lady can see what's been smacking you in the face for months because she's ready to step to this girl who so obviously wants a piece of her date."
Yeah, Quinn's reaction to that had been strange. It was difficult to explain that away. Jealousy was the only convincing fit for that one. Quinn went after Sadie that night.
Jealousy didn't always mean romantic feelings though.
On the other hand, Sadie was never threatened by anyone besides Quinn. She wasn't a jealous person, but something about the blonde always put my redheaded ex on edge. Even Brittany, who came after Sadie with a broken beer bottle, didn't get under Sadie's skin like Quinn did. I had worried that Sadie could see my feelings for Quinn, but I had never contemplated that perhaps it was Quinn's feelings that Sadie was concerned with until now.
"Mercedes tells me later that night that Quinn turned into a psychopath when she discovered that you were in trouble. Apparently, she was crying and basically willing to kill anyone in the hallway that was in her way of getting to you. She bit off the head of any person who dared to speak to her after that. And then after we return to your house, she barely moves, barely says anything before you get back."
Imagining Quinn that distressed was like a needle to the heart.
God, I didn't know what I would have done if Quinn and I had been in opposite positions that night. I probably would have murdered those guys rather than just sending them to the hospital.
But she was my friend. It's normal to be upset when you're worried about a friend. She had cared about me. That much was clear.
"You return, and I am a reliable shot delivery boy, even though upon entrance it is all too clear that I am imposing on Quinn's Santana time. By the way, Mercedes definitely heard the two of you doing the dirty when she went to find you shortly after I left your room." He wiggled his man-manicured eyebrows at me, and I kicked him lightly with one of my sneakers.
Well, that's embarrassing. Even though we weren't doing the dirty. In truth, we probably would have been if Mercedes would have waited a few more minutes before walking in.
"That night, the Prom Queen doesn't even bother to hide how crazy she is about you. She spends the rest of the party staring at you or glaring at Sadie, just like your future girlfriend had accused her of earlier. She drinks way too much, much like she did on your birthday when I gifted you with your Sadie lap dance."
Did Quinn really stare at me that much? Sadie had obviously noticed it, and apparently Puck did as well. I had thought that I was the only one who had a staring issue.
Despite our falling out, it was something that I had continued to struggle with all summer long. There was no one more beautiful to me than Quinn.
It didn't help that her summer dresses were slightly shorter than her usual dresses. And it certainly didn't help that we had started using the foam pit. Every time she flipped into it I fought the urge to pin her down in the cubes.
"You close the evening by having hot lesbian sex with Sadie instead of spooning Quinn which we both know was what you would have rather been doing, and Quinn in turn emasculates Sam when she finds out the next morning. Apparently she called him a "little bitch". She ditches him and his big froggy lips before the weekend is even over."
I had no idea that Quinn had broken up with Sam that soon after Prom, but even so, I wasn't sure what that even meant.
Would I rather spoon Quinn than fuck Sadie?
Oh my god, I would. He's totally right.
Who am I?
"So then, she sleep fucks you so hard that she moans your name while passed out on a crowded plane. She steps in front of your crazy ass when you're on the verge of ruining your future by slaughtering Finn. And now that the two of you are not in cahoots anymore, she can't stand to be in the same room as you." Puck inhaled deeply before continuing.
I had never in my life heard this boy talk this much. Well, maybe about Halo or Super Mario Brothers, but nothing like this.
If she hadn't stepped between Finn and I that night, I probably wouldn't have stopped myself from really hurting the guy. I had worked my ass off for that competition, but it was knowing that he had ripped the title from my fellow Glee members' hands just so he could flaunt his love for Berry that made me lose it.
"This is the girl that you have been absolutely cuckoo for her PomPom Puffs for since I have known you, and you treated her like garbage for years, and she still didn't give up on you. What the fuck are you doing? And all of this, this is just an outsider's view. Who knows how many times you have been privately slapped in the face by how she feels about you, you dumbass."
I was stunned. Not by his name calling, because we have called each other every name in the book. I was stunned by my own idiocy.
I hadn't been an experiment to Quinn. Puck didn't even know about all of the make out sessions, or how Quinn had poured her heart out to me in NYC, and he was able to see that Quinn had real feelings for me.
In eighth grade I had pushed her away because I had felt like she had rejected me. This time, I pushed her away for doing the exact opposite.
She had accepted me. She had wanted me. She had fought for me.
It was I who had rejected her.
She forgave me for all of the unthinkable things that I had done to her over the years, and she had trusted me with her truth and she had allowed me into her heart.
"You can talk now." He permitted me to speak, taking another deep breath to recover from his long speech.
After all of that, I wasn't sure what to say. I had no idea that Puck paid that much attention for one, although it sounded like Mercedes had a hand in all of this as well. Secondly, I had spent so much time and effort convincing myself that Quinn did not possess any legitimate feelings for me, that it was incredibly unnerving for Puck to bulldoze down all of the walls that I had been constructing for years in mere minutes.
"I can't believe you just said all of that." I was pretty sure that I was staring at him like he had two heads.
He still appeared to be irritated with me.
"You think I like talking to you about this? Because I don't, but since you're a scary werebitch no one else was going to have the cojones to do it. The two of you are driving everyone crazy." Puck pointed and me, and then down the street towards Quinn's house.
A werebitch. That was new one. I kinda like it.
"That's our business." I responded weakly.
I wasn't stupid enough to actually think that the tension between Quinn and I didn't impact our friends.
"Your business is going to ruin our little version of The Breakfast Club that we have going here if you don't check your shit." He smacked his hands down on the hood on either side of my legs.
"You slept through that whole movie when I tried to make you watch it." I leaned forward, completely unafraid of my friend's semi-violent movement.
"I get the concept, okay? I'm just saying that this is our last year together, and you're making people feel like they have to choose between blonde and brunette." Puck shook his head at me.
God I hoped that wasn't true. I didn't want to lose anyone, and I didn't want Quinn to lose any of our friends even less.
"You're such a sap." I teased, resting a hand on his shoulder near his neck to give him a friendly shake.
"And you're my favorite little Hispanic coward." He responded without spite.
I had been a coward. I didn't want to be that person anymore.
"Even if you're right about all of this, I probably missed my chance with her. I'm pretty sure she hates me now. I was a complete bitch to her in New York." I bit my lip in frustration. That was the first time that I had directly said anything honest about my relationship with Quinn to anyone.
I had no idea what to even say to her to make up for what I had done.
I was so fucking stupid.
"As if that's anything new. She's forgiven you before, babe. But how about we wrap this crap up, because you've almost depleted my emotional capacity here. No one is buying the untouchable bitch act from you anymore. As for you being unlovable, you are the only one who you have successfully convinced of that. Blondie down the street is just one glaring example of what a failure that has been."
I slid off of the hood of his jeep, and into the arms of my muscular friend. I hadn't believed that we could grow any closer after what happened at Prom, but we definitely just did.
I was pretty comfortable about my sexuality, but Puck was one of the very few things that still made me wish on occasion that I was into guys. He was my hetero soul-mate.
But my only real chance of happiness lived down the street.
It was time for me to fight.
I had the feeling that this was going to be a much harder fight than taking on six asshole hockey players, and Puck couldn't have my back for this one.
But she was worth it.
"Why are you still standing here, Lopez?" My mohawked wake-up call pulled back from our hug with an encouraging smile, and a wink.
I had predicted wrong earlier when I had thought that I wasn't going to run that afternoon. I did run after all. But not for a workout. I ran to her.