Brittany squeals the moment she enters Marissa's room. There's a kitty on the bed. A cute fuzzy little kitten that Brittany immediately scoops up, holding it around the ribcage and letting its lower legs dangle. It's a lot skinnier than Lord Tubbington. It's also winking at her; one eye is closed while the other stares right back at her. Brittany plops down on the bed, still holding the kitty at arm's length, stares into its single eye for a significant amount of time.

"What secrets are you keeping from me?" Brittany finally whispers.

Marissa's hands touch hers as the redhead lifts the mewling kitten out of Brittany's grasp. She cradles it gently. "Brittany, meet Sir Winxalot."

"Even his name winks at me."

"Uh, yeah. I did that on purpose." Marissa slides onto the bed, leaning against the headboard while still cradling Winxy. "I just adopted him a couple months ago. He lost his eye to an infection when he was a baby, but he's the most confident kitty you'll ever met."

A new thought occurs to Brittany's mind. "Sir Winxy - he's royalty, right? That means he's related to Lord Tubbington."

"Lord who?" Marissa sets Sir Winxy on the bed surface. He stalks over to Brittany, who promptly strokes his back.

"Lord Tubbington's my cat. He also manages my finances and coordinates my outfit." Brittany gestures down at her body, clad in a tight yellow shirt, shorts, and suspenders. "Isn't he fab?"

"Gorgeous," Marissa smiles. "I like the earrings."

Brittany grins at the compliment. "Yours too. They're like bananas fetuses. You're like Katy Perry, before she sold her soul to Candyland."

"You mean the fruit jewelry?" Marissa reaches over to her bedside table and pulls out a couple fruit-themed accessories—a watermelon necklace, a green apple ring, orange slice earrings. "My friend made them."

Brittany immediately begins to don the ones she can get her hands on. "You can, like, totally be a fruitcake with all of these." Marissa has a weird expression on her face that Brittany decides not to notice. "Two melons, a cherry—" Brittany reaches for a ring Marissa's holding. "Oo, can I see your peach?"

Marissa almost drops the accessory into Brittany's hand, her other hand hiding the furious blush rising in her cheeks.

Brittany slides Marissa's peach ring onto her finger, then holds up a bracelet. "What's this long purple one?"

"That's an eggplant."

"Is it sour?"

"…No."

"That's good," Brittany declares, holding up a necklace boasting several slices of orange and making a face. "I don't like sour fruits. Whoa, look at that. It matches your hair. Here, let me put this on you," she offers, immediately rising to her knees and scooting over. Marissa obliges, swinging her hair over one shoulder and baring the back of her neck. Brittany leans in close, her arms encircling Marissa's neck to fasten the clasp.

The problem is, she doesn't know how to do these things. Lord Tubbington usually helps her get dressed in the mornings, and while Sir Winxalot might be royalty, he has yet to give Brittany a nod of affirmation or a flat-eyed stare.

Besides, the real reason is because she wanted to get close to Marissa. San's been spending more time with her boyfriend, which is Brittany's cue to seduce another guy. But Damian's busy over the weekend, and truthfully, Brittany's not really in the mood. She just wants her lady time with Santana back.

Santana and Sam are also busy this weekend, though, so Brittany's just plain lonely. And out of everybody she knows, Marissa's been the nicest to her. At least, Marissa hasn't called her stupid yet.

Marissa pulls away slightly to fasten the clasp herself. Brittany keeps her arms around Marissa's neck nonetheless, so when Marissa leans back into her normal sitting position, she pulls Brittany into her. Brittany adjusts, sliding her bottom until she's literally in Marissa's lap. Marissa looks slightly uncomfortable, but Brittany just leans her head against Marissa's shoulder and doesn't do anything more.

"Thanks," she mumbles. "I'm lonely."

Marissa hesitantly puts her arms around Brittany's shoulders. "Shh, it's alright. I'm here."

"I know." Brittany turns her head so she can glance at Marissa. "Are you lonely?"

Marissa's answer is immediate, and, as far as Brittany's people reading skills go, forced. A knee-jerk response. "I'm fine."

"Being just okay isn't okay," Brittany insists firmly; she sits up, pulling away from Marissa enough that she can look her straight in the eye. She also pulls her hair out of her tight ponytail and shakes it loose, 'cause this girl needs some serious loosening-up. "You can go through life being just fine all the time, but that's boring. You need sprinkle some action in there to really live." Brittany gestures at herself. "Look at me, I'm living the life all the time."

Marissa smiles with just a little bit of condescension, as if she's explaining a complex thing to a child. People get that look all the time when they talk to Brittany, and she's used to it… but Marissa doesn't do that, and that's another reason why Brittany was drawn to her. "Maybe. But then again, it's good to just sit back and enjoy your alone time. Smell the roses."

Brittany sits back and runs her fingers through her hair, smoothing out its kinks. "Oh, I smell them all the time," she says reassuringly. "I think it's my shampoo. Lord Tubbington recommended it." Brittany tosses her hair over her shoulder for good measure. "So, about this guy."

Marissa freezes, the smile dropping off her face. "What?"

"You know, this heartbreaker dude. The one that the Latina-who-may-or-may-not-be-Santana's-flirty-cousin-twice-removed told you about."

"You heard that?"

Brittany nods solemnly. "I have supersonic hearing. But only when I don't want it. Like the one time my dad took his girlfriend for an adventure in their room."

Marissa's face almost matches the color of her hair. "I… I…"

"Are you going to take him out?"

"It's complicated," Marissa answers vaguely.

"That only counts as a Facebook status," Brittany says. "Really, it's a yes or no thing. You're in a relationship, or you're not. Or you just sleep with them 'cause you think they're hot."

Marissa tilts her head. "So is 'sleeping with them' a yes or no?"

Brittany is slightly confused. "Of course it's a yes. It's just short-term."

"Okay… well…" And then it's like something breaks within Marissa, because a lot of words start coming out, all at once. "I don't know. My first boyfriend—"

At this, Brittany perks up. Juicy gossip is always worth the listening time.

"—…one day, he just started shutting people out of his life. Even me. We used to be so close, but then he grew distant… and then he just stopped caring. I tried making myself better, just for him, because he was my entire world, but he didn't even notice. And then, all of a sudden, he was gone. Just disappeared out of my life for two whole years. He didn't call, didn't Facebook, didn't do anything. I gave him everything and he broke my heart. I just wasn't good enough."

"You don't think you're good enough?" Brittany asks in shock. "'Cause trust me, Marissa. I've been with a lot of people, and I think you're totally smoking."

Marissa smiles faintly. "Thanks, Britt. I think I've reached that point too, being comfortable and accepting of myself. But… getting close to a guy who doesn't care as much as I do... I just don't want that to happen again. I don't ever, ever, ever want to experience that again."

"How do you know it'll happen again? Are you totally sure that, if you take this heartbreaker out, that he's going to dump you right away and break your heart?" Brittany flips her hair over her shoulder flippantly. "Can't trust the haters, girl. I could smell the jealousy coming off that Latina, Marissa. She's an ex. Are you really not going to take the guy out just because somebody told you not to?"

"You said yourself: he's a heartbreaker."

"Everybody knows a broken heart comes from loving too much," Brittany refutes. "Besides, you'll never know what he's really like until you try it."

"This comes from personal experience?"

"Sure. The Octopus was a fun change. So was Playing the Cello, and the Camel Ride. I did the Italian Chandelier with a gymnast once—you know, extreme flexibility required for that position and all. The Viennese Oyster was really painful; I don't recommend trying that—but again, you'll never know till you try it." The look of shock on Marissa's face causes Brittany to finish up early. "But you can't actually get to that stage if you don't ask him out first. What are you waiting for? You're really hot, you're ready, and you won't know what's going to happen until you try it. And you're really hot."

Marissa still doesn't look quite convinced, so Brittany decides to convince her. She leans forward, very gently, and claims Marissa's lips with her own.

Damian almost drops the phone in his hurry to answer it. "Hello?"

Nothing.

"Lindsay?"

Silence. Then: "Talk to me."

"Lindsay, I'm sorry. I… I was so caught up in my own emotions, I didn't stop to think about what you were going through."

She doesn't say anything. There's a bit of rustling, as if she's waiting for him to go on. So he obliges her.

"Lindsay, I don't know what you're going through. I don't know what you're doing. I don't know anything. And you didn't know about me. That's what I failed in. I failed to talk to you about what I was going through, and that's why we're at this point now."

At this point, Damian picks a spot on the horizon and begins to walk mechanically in that direction. He needs privacy. "I swear, Lindsay, I was never dating Marissa, and any feelings I have towards her are strictly platonic. She is a great friend of mine, one of the closest friends I have since I arrived in America, but I have no romantic feelings for her. Those were always directed towards you, and I'm sorry it took me so long to realize that. Funny how sometimes we don't even know what we're feeling, huh? But it was there the entire time, and I only had to say it aloud to realize it was true. I love you, Lindsay. And you've said that it means nothing to you, but it means everything in the world to me. I love you, Lindsay, and I've said it aloud."

Absolute, utter silence.

"Lindsay. Please say something."

Nothing.

Damian hits a wall. Literally. It's a building that Damian didn't even notice until he collided with it. Banners stretching over the entrance have yellow beams emblazoned on electric blue.

Damian shakes his head; for a moment, he's embarrassed that he accidentally walked into a building, but within seconds, his attentions are once again focused on Lindsay. "Lindsay, please. Please say something."

"I can't talk to you if what you say means nothing to me."

Damian almost jumps out of his skin. Lindsay. That was definitely Lindsay. She was listening, she heard him, and she just said something. Even if it was 'no.' Ironic.

"Lindsay, I can't say it enough. What else can I do? What else do you want me to do?" At this, Damian can't help but keep the ire out of his voice. "Lindsay, I've tried everything. I've tried talking to you. I've tried communicating. I've said everything; I've poured out my heart to you. I've told you everything. Okay, maybe not everything, but if you want me to, I'll do it. And I'll do it because I love you and I'll do anything for you to say the same. Lindsay, this is me putting my 100% into loving you. Isn't that what you said you wanted? Complete devotion? Isn't that what I'm doing now? I'm still hanging here and you're not giving me an answer. Lindsay, if you're not going to say anything, at least answer this one question. Just this one question. What do you feel, Lindsay? Can't you at least tell me that? Just tell me up straight, instead of dodging around the issue or saying what you should do or what else you have going on in your busy life. What do you feel? How do you feel towards me?"

Silence again.

"Do you hate me?"

No reply.

Damian's emotions are running away from him and he can't stop them. "Why are you doing this to me? Why? Why do you keep sending me mixed messages? Avoiding me, then agreeing to talk, only to pull away again. We kissed, then you kicked me out of your car. You call me, but you don't say anything and here I am in a very public place telling everybody within earshot about my bloody feelings just so you can hear, but you won't even say anything back. Why are you doing this, Lindsay?"

Silence. This time, it only serves to infuriate Damian more.

"Lindsay… I don't know what to say. I've said it all and it doesn't make a difference, does it?"

Click.

Call ended.

Damian drops the phone, hot tears suddenly pricking his eyes.

"I didn't think so."

The kiss is very, very gentle.

Brittany is a very good kisser.

Brittany's hair does smell like roses.

There are a hundred stimuli registering in Marissa's senses: Brittany's lips against her own, her flowery scent drifting down, the light brush of blond hair against her collarbone. The bed shifts underneath both of them as Brittany shifts her weight. Brittany's knee touches Marissa's thigh. A suspender slides down Brittany's shoulder, making a scraping sound as it slowly works its way off. Marissa tastes cherry chapstick as Brittany's lips move very gently against her, never intruding or pushing or demanding anything back in response.

Marissa doesn't respond; her brain is too busy whirring with shocked thoughts. Brittany's kissing her and she doesn't really mind. She doesn't have a problem with another girl kissing her. That's a pretty big development in itself; not something Marissa wants to pursue right now, but good to know.

Eventually, Brittany sits back and licks her lips. "Tastes like peach," she grins.

That brings another hot rush to Marissa's face. "Brittany, I don't think I'm ready for that yet."

Brittany just nods and whips her hair around a little, just like she did back at the mall. "I can live with that."

"Uh, what I mean to say—"

"Aw, Sir Winxalot wants some love too," Brittany coos, sharing an Eskimo kiss with the kitten. "Don't worry, Winxy. Lord Tubbington can show you some tricks."

"Brittany? I… I need some time alone. To think." She doesn't want to be rude, but she doesn't want to be a jerk either and make up some crazy excuse that Brittany would probably believe anyways, like "Sir Winxalot needs to do his daily tai chi exercises in silence," or "oh look at the time. I need to sing to my plants."

Brittany nods and pulls out her cell phone. "I'll just have my dad's girlfriend pick me up."

Marissa sighs in relief when Brittany finally takes off, getting in the car with a dark-haired woman. The house is finally quiet, spare for Winxy's quiet mews. Marissa picks him up and carries him to the kitchen, where she starts making herself a sandwich.

Brittany's right: Marissa really doesn't know what Bryce will be like until she tries him out. But how everything turns out depends partially on her and her expectations upon entering the relationship. Will Bryce be an emotional crutch or a supportive man who acknowledges her independence?

Lindsay stares at the phone in her lap. She'd heard speech issuing from her phone and, assuming she'd butt-dialed a random number, just hung up without looking at the ID.

Eight minutes. Damian had been talking to the silence that was her butt for eight minutes, while she practiced for an upcoming speech competition.

Who knows what he said. To her ass, nonetheless.

Lindsay vows from then on to keep her phone in her purse.

Author's Rant

Yes, some fruits are euphemisms for body parts. No, I'm not going to tell you which or what. Real-world Marissa really does have an adopted, one-eyed kitty called Sir Winxalot :) And a friend who makes fruit jewelry.