"Santana!"
My attention was pulled away from the topic of discussion as I tried to locate the person shouting my name. The party was in full swing, a celebration thrown after the Spring scrimmage match by the upperclassmen for the freshmen athletes' transition from the JV squad to varsity. I supposed it was like a rite of passage for Puck and Finn and the other boys in our class as they were instructed to participate in stupid dares while the Cheerios stood around and watched. I looked around the basement, observing the action around me. The football players scattered around the room were busy trying to out–drink one another while their girlfriends cheered them on. I squinted at the small group of Cheerios standing next to me. They were absorbed in their own conversations. I couldn't figure out who was calling for me. The loud music pounded in my ears, and I shrugged, figuring I had imagined it.
"Santana!"
I looked down at the drink in my hand. It was only my second drink since I'd arrived at the party. It was almost empty, but I knew I hadn't consumed that much to justify hearing voices in my head. I looked around the room again. More than likely, someone was trying to get some sort of reaction out of me. Rather than take the bait, I turned my attention back to the girls in the circle. When a hand grabbed my elbow a few seconds later, I whipped my head around, finding bright blue eyes staring back at me expectantly.
Mystery solved.
"Santana! Come play with us," Brittany beamed, trying to pull me away from the group of Cheerios.
I resisted, a little wary of what I was about to get myself into. "What sort of game?" I asked.
Brittany threaded her fingers through her hair and plucked at the hem of her shorts. She motioned to a cluster of people sitting on the floor across the room. "We need another girl for Spin the Bottle."
I groaned. "Britt, that's stuff kids in junior high do at their lame birthday parties."
"Come on, Santana," she pleaded. "Puck is playing! He said you should too."
My eyes almost rolled out of my head. Of course Puck would be playing. And it was no surprise that he wanted me to join in. Despite the fact that we were supposed to be dating exclusively, Puck took every opportunity he had to satisfy his horny appetite. I pursed my lips, carefully thinking of how to turn her down without disappointing her. She must have sensed my reluctance because she started pleading with me before I had a chance to turn her down.
"It'll be fun," she promised, sliding her fingers from my elbow and clasping our hands together. "Puck's added a twist to it, so it's like, totally more adult."
I narrowed my eyes while I considered what she offered. If Puck came up with the new rules, there was no telling how adult the game would be.
"What sort of twist?" I asked.
"You'll just have to play to find out," she said, swinging our hands back and forth.
I debated with myself for a few more seconds before caving in to her demands and agreeing to play. Brittany jumped in the air, unable to contain her excitement, before leaning forward and kissing the top of my head. I couldn't help but smile at her. It was part of her personality to take delight in everything around her, but it was so much more pronounced when she'd been drinking. The grin on my face couldn't be contained as I watched her.
I let her pull me across the room towards the group. Brittany's penchant for physical affection had long since stopped making me feel uneasy. When we first became friends, it made me uncomfortable every time she touched me – whether it was a hug, a handhold, or a pinky–link. And I couldn't understand why Brittany had no sense of personal space until I'd met her family the first time I spent the night at her house. Her entire family was like that, having no qualms about hugging one another or giving a loving kiss on the forehead. It was so foreign to me, but after years of being around the Pierces, I eventually became used to it. It's become so common for my pinky to be wrapped around hers that it almost feels as if I'm missing part of myself if they're separated when we're together.
As we approached the far side of the room, I realized that the upperclassmen must have given the boys a break from the stupid tasks of the night because the group was almost exclusively freshmen. Puck and the other football players cheered and clapped and thanked Brittany for talking me into playing. She took a dramatic bow before plopping down on the floor between Mike and Puck and pulling me with her. I downed the last of my drink and set my cup behind me. My eyes flickered around the circle until they landed on Finn. It was confusing to see him sitting across from me when I didn't see Quinn in her place beside him, but then I spotted her seated in a chair just over his shoulder, carefully watching our game. Finn had somehow managed to convince her to let him play – probably at the expense of a kiss later, or whatever the hell it was that the celibacy queen got up to when the two of them were together.
"Alright people, listen up," Puck shouted. "We're going to shake things up a bit and turn this into a drinking game. When you spin, one of two things will go down. You'll either take a body shot with the person it lands on or kiss them full on the mouth. Here's the catch: the person who spun before you gets to choose what you'll be doing."
When everyone in the group seemed pleased with Puck's modifications, he grabbed an empty beer bottle and moved towards the center of the circle to start the game.
"Who gets to be the first to pick what happens?" Finn asked.
Puck considered his question for a moment, then pointed across the circle. "Matt's birthday is coming up. Let's let the birthday boy be the first to decide."
When everyone agreed, Puck started the game with a spin while everyone cheered. I was a little surprised when it landed on me. Brittany bumped my shoulder with hers and laughed as I shrugged, turning my attention towards Matt.
"What's it going to be Matty?" I asked.
A chant of "shot shot shot" rose from the group, and Matt couldn't deny what the people wanted. "Do a shot off her neck, Puck."
Once again, my eyes rolled on their own because seriously, how lame is a body shot off the neck? I seemed to be alone with this opinion however, and Puck grabbed an open bottle of tequila from the table behind him. Someone passed him the salt and limes as I tilted my head to give him access to my neck. He took his time dragging his tongue across my skin, and I was pretty sure he was deliberately doing so to rile everyone up. It was working. I could hear the whoops from his teammates, and I felt more than heard Brittany laughing in delight beside me. Her hand kept slapping my thigh, and I had to swat her hand away to keep from laughing along with her. When Puck finished taking his shot, he leaned over and kissed me.
"That's cheating!" someone yelled.
"Whatever. It's my turn," I said, leaning forward to spin. It landed on a sophomore named Mitchel, and Puck instructed us to kiss. My lips had barely touched his when I felt someone pulling me back. It was Puck.
"What the hell, Puck?"
"The last spinner gets to decide how long the kiss lasts," he told me.
"You can't just make up rules when you feel like it!" Michael exclaimed.
Puck's arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me close to him. "I can when it comes to my girl."
Brittany put an end to the arguing. "New rule applies to everyone. Problem solved. Your turn, Mitch."
His jealous masculine act was ridiculous, but I just leaned into him, feeling too tipsy to care. I grabbed the bottled of tequila and took a quick shot as Michael took his turn. The game continued for quite some time, and despite my reluctance to join in the beginning, I thoroughly enjoyed watching the game unfold. Eventually the body shots became more indecent, and the kisses were drawn out longer. All the boys demanded a kiss every time two girls were paired up. After a few instances, the girls unanimously decided that a maximum time limit of thirty seconds needed to be put in place to keep the game moving along. We also did our best to make the guys feel as awkward as possible when the tables were turned.
After Puck spun the bottle for the twelfth time, I began to wonder whether he'd rigged it in his favor. When it landed on Brittany, a body shot off the chest was demanded by another Cheerio. The way she was smirking at me made it obvious she was hoping to see me flip out in jealousy. I refused to let her get to me and sent her my best bitch face before moving to make room for Brittany to lie on the floor.
Brittany unbuttoned her shirt and flopped down in front of Puck. I warned Puck not to let his tongue wander too far, but I only got a wink in return. Once again, he took his time licking across the top of her chest, and I had to smack him on the back of his head when his tongue strayed too close to her bra. After my hand made contact, the turn ended, and Brittany sat up to spin.
She attempted to button up her shirt as the bottle spun, but after the numerous shots she'd had to take, there was no way she could do it properly. A few buttons were pushed through the wrong holes, while some hadn't gone through any. Watching her inebriated struggle made me want to reach out and help her, but even my alcohol induced haze, I knew that would be weird. My mind was so preoccupied with her fingers struggling to close her shirt that I didn't notice when the bottle stopped. It was only when Puck nudged me that I looked up and realized that it had stopped on me. He twisted his body in front of us, excitement plastered over his face.
"I have been waiting for this moment my entire life," Puck exclaimed, receiving a high five from Matt and a few other players. "I demand a kiss."
"Seriously?" I asked. As close as I was to Brittany, kissing another girl was too embarrassing. I'd never kissed a girl before. I wasn't gay. The thought of making out with my best friend sent a nervous fluttering sensation straight to my stomach. It exploded when Brittany turned to me and grabbed my hand. My eyes darted around the circle, and I hoped that no one could tell how nervous I felt. I was supposed to be the confident HBIC of the freshman class, and I didn't want to lose the image I'd worked so hard to attain.
The chanting started once again, and I flicked my gaze over to Brittany. Her free hand was fist pumping in time to their voices. When she finally met my eyes, Brittany grinned and asked if I was ready. I tried to tug my hand away, but she squeezed it tighter and grabbed my other hand to pull us into a kneeling position.
"What are you doing?" I whispered, looking around the room and feeling extremely self–conscious. Our group had become obnoxiously loud, and it was drawing the attention of others. I was already anxious enough. For the first time in my life, I didn't think I could handle the extra attention our kneeling was giving us.
Her tongue wet her lips as she leaned in, but instead of kissing me, she brought her mouth to my ear. "Do you remember number four on my list?"
I pulled away enough to see her biting her lip, fighting to contain a grin, and an old memory rushed back. Brittany had an infatuation with every digital short Saturday Night Live aired. When Jizz in My Pants became a phenomenon, she thought it was hilarious and told me one night at my house that one of her bucket list wishes was to witness a guy lose it in front of her. She thought it would be really funny.
And I realized at that moment why she'd been so excited to play this game and why she seemingly struggled with her shirt buttons. Brittany was planning to make these drunken morons fight each other for a spot in the bathroom to jerk off later. The mischief in her eyes and the smirk on her face was the only convincing I'd needed. After all, what kind of friend would I be if I didn't help my best friend complete her bucket list?
Brittany saw the small smile that had crept its way onto my face, and she immediately knew that she'd been successful in convincing me to go along with her plan. I giggled at her excitement, but when she put my hands on her hips, that anxious fluttering returned. I couldn't tell if I was nervous about kissing a girl for the first time in front of a crowd or if I was nervous about kissing Brittany.
She gathered my hair behind my head and tied it with the extra hair band on her wrist. "Don't be nervous," she said, doing her best to reassure me. "It's totally hot."
Before I had a chance to argue, her arms wrapped around my neck, and she kissed me. I couldn't tear my eyes away from hers, and I felt her smile against my lips. When her eyes closed, I followed suit, ignoring the catcalls around us and finally allowing myself to feel what Brittany was doing to me.
It felt kind of strange kissing someone without feeling stubble from facial hair against my skin, but it was good. Like, really good. I was long aware of Brittany's kissing adventures with guys and girls. It was something I envied about her – how she was so open and unafraid of new experiences. It was clear to me then, why so many people wanted to kiss my best friend. Her lips tasted like her favorite lip gloss and were soft and moved with experience. I let her take the lead, something that was so unlike me. To my horror, a moan threatened to erupt from my throat when the fingers of her left hand started scratching at the back of my neck. The tip of her tongue pressed against my bottom lip, and the embarrassment that had lingered over me disappeared completely.
My hands squeezed her waist, pulling her into my body. I could feel her giggling, and it made me smile. When my lips parted, her tongue moved into my mouth. I ran my hands along her lower back, then up and back down. The hem of her shirt had ridden up, and I let my fingers run along its edge. For reasons I attributed to the alcohol that I'd consumed, an overwhelming desire to touch her skin washed over me. So I did. And when I did, Brittany whimpered. Suddenly, she pulled away.
The coldness I felt when her body moved away from mine was instantaneous. A disconnected feeling overcame me. I couldn't make my body respond to anything I wanted it to do. I couldn't understand why I wanted to pull her back to me, but I did, and my hands, unable to receive the signals my brain were sending them, slipped from around Brittany's back. When I could finally force my eyelids to open, I saw her wink at me. I realized then that Brittany wasn't nearly as drunk as I had assumed her to be.
"I think our thirty seconds are up, Santana."
The collective groan around us was the cold bucket of water that poured itself over me and snapped me out of my bubble. Loud music once again pounded into my ears. I'd completely forgotten where I was.
"Brittany, it would be my pleasure – and apparently Santana's too – if you'd join us in my bedroom next Friday."
If looks could kill, I would have murdered Puck right there in that senior's basement. "Jódete!"
I tried to slap the stupid smirk off his face, but Brittany grabbed my hand and laughed. "Sorry, Puck. I'm going out of town to see my gran that weekend," she lied. (I knew full well that she and I were planning to stay holed up in my room to have a One Tree Hill marathon all weekend.) "…but maybe next time."
I'm pretty sure my jaw hit the floor at the same time as all the boys at her insinuation. Realizing I needed to keep my cool, I collected myself before anyone had a chance to notice. I tried to sit down in the circle again, but Brittany stood and pulled me up to my feet.
"Where are you going?" Mike asked.
Brittany just shrugged. "It's been fun, but I'm bored. I'm gonna go dance."
She tugged me along, assuming – correctly so – that I would want to join her. Once we were out of earshot, she turned to me. Excitement was plastered all over her face.
"Did you see Finn?" she asked.
"No."
"Me neither. I bet he's in the bathroom right now."
How Brittany could get excited about the idea of Finn Hudson masturbating in the bathroom was beyond me. "Uhg, Britt. Gross. That is not something I ever want to think about."
"Then come dance with me. We have to celebrate crossing something off our list," she explained, already swaying to the beat.
After what just went down, I briefly considered adding 'make out with Brittany again' to my own bucket list, to be crossed off in the near future. But that line of thinking was gay. I wasn't gay. "Your list, Britt. Not mine," I reminded her.
Her fingers gently pulled the tie from my hair and smoothed the fallen strands away from my face. "Whatever. Come on."
Brittany took my pinkie in hers, and just like that, I felt complete again.
