AN: Thanks for following this story and I hope more people start reading so I have more motivation to keep going. I promise the chapters will get longer as the story develops. Just stick with me. For all of you that are upset at certain 'friendships'... I hate Quinntana as much as most Brittana fans. I literally cringe when I see or hear the word Quinntana, but yet, here I am, suffering through it just like the rest of you. Let's just see how this turns out shall we?

I own none of the Glee characters.

Santana POV

Sent by Q: When does ur class end?

Sent to Q: In 20mins. I'm so fuckin bored. Kill me now.

Sent by Q: Lol. I'll take u out for ice cream if you can power through and last the 20mins.

Sent to Q: No promises.

Sent by Q: See u in 20. Don't die on me. xoxo

Santana slips her phone into her pocket and leans back in her chair. She has no idea what her professor has been saying. In fact, she's not even sure what class this is. Is this sociology or civilization? She has absolutely no clue. She looks over at the spine of the book sitting on the desk of the girl next to her – Accounting.

'Oops' she laughs to herself and just continues to day dream about nothing in particular until the sound of books closing and back packs zipping snaps her out of her daze. She gets up from her seat and grabs her backpack, which has her brand new accounting book inside. She knows she should feel guilty for not paying attention in class considering how expensive college is, but nothing interests her. She knows her mother, well, actually, her father is footing the bill for her to get an education but she couldn't care less. She hates her father. Her mother was a homemaker when her father, a lawyer, bailed on them with his assistant and moved out with her after dropping two million dollars as an apology into his now ex-wife's account when they split; Santana was 12. Santana's father tries to get in contact with her and sends her monetary gifts on special occasions, but usually she just takes the money – rarely with much more than a "thanks" – and goes out with her friends. Santana doesn't have many friends. She has maybe a handful of friends, okay maybe only two close friends. She's not the most social girl on the block and considering the fact that her mom constantly wants her at home, it's hard for her to go out and meet new people. Besides, she likes to think of herself as an independent bitch that doesn't need anyone anyway. She's not lonely. Not at all.

Santana's mother lives off her alimony but hardly ever leaves the house unless it is to get her hair or nails done, or go shopping for a new purse or shoes. They constantly argue but Santana always ends up feeling guilty. She feels sorry for her mom because she's alone and her father is a douchebag. Not to mention the fact that her mom constantly reminds her that if Santana isn't caring for her then she might as well not exist. Santana hates these guilt trips because they work.

"Oh God, this is so good!" Santana breathes out after taking a bite of her cherry chocolate gelato.

Quinn smiles and takes a spoonful. "It's alright, mine is better."

"I hate pistachio," Santana pretends to shudder and takes another scoop of gelato out of her cup.

Quinn laughs, "So, what are your plans for today?"

Santana shrugs, "Probably just go home."

"Wanna come over?" Quinn asks and Santana looks up from her cup of cherry chocolate to read Quinn's face to see what she really means.

Hazel eyes twinkle and pink lips curl up into a smirk.

"Aren't your parents home?"

Quinn shakes her head, "Nah, they're going to some fundraising gala all night. They won't be back until one or two in the morning."

"Well, I can't go home that late, but sure, I'll come over for a bit."

Santana makes a call to her mom to tell her she will be home late. Her mom, of course is upset that Santana isn't going home right away, but at 21, she really doesn't want to be spending so much time at home anyway.

Both Santana and Quinn drop their bags at the door of Quinn's penthouse and quickly make their way to the kitchen to grab some snacks and settle in front of the T.V. Not 45 minutes later, Quinn is on top of Santana and they're making out. Quinn's thigh is between Santana's and their lips are locked tight. Quinn's fingers are entwined in Santana's hair and her other hand is sliding from her shoulder down her side to the waistband of Santana's pants. Santana slowly grabs Quinn's wrist and pulls her hand back up and places it on her boob instead, where Quinn begins to massage away. Santana's wraps one arm around Quinn's neck and the other one is stroking up and down her back.

They hear voices coming from outside the door and they jump from their spot, Santana almost throwing Quinn to the ground. They quickly straighten up and Quinn moves over to the end of the couch and they pretend to be watching Scrubs on TV. At least Santana thinks its Scrubs.

"Mom! Dad! You're home early," Quinn says and stands up to greet her parents.

"Oh dear, the event was a bore. We just shook the people's hands and made small talk while your dad talked to the different associates. We did our part and just had to get out of there," Quinn's mom says, taking in an exhausted breath.

Santana turns around with the most fake-genuine smile on her face, "Mr., Mrs. Fabray. Hello."

"Santana dear, how lovely to see you. Will you be staying for supper?"

Santana looks at the time, "No, actually I should be going home now anyway. My mom is expecting me."

"Well, tell her we say hello then. Have a good evening, Santana."

"Same to you." Santana stands up and Quinn walks her to the door. "1 AM my ass," Santana shakes her head and whispers.

"I'm sorry!" Quinn chuckles. "I seriously didn't think they would be home so early. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Sure, maybe," Santana says and reaches for the handle of the door.

Quinn goes in for a tight hug, surprising Santana. They say their goodbyes and Santana takes a cab home.

When she reaches the front porch of her townhouse, she dives into her backpack and takes out her pack of cigarettes. She drops her backpack down and circles around to the corner of her house. She lights the cigarette and takes in a long drag, feeling the soothing effects hit her as soon as she inhales. She exhales a long slow stream and leans back against the house and slides down until her butt is almost touching the ground. She closes her eyes and considers the events that happened today.

When she's finished, she puts the cigarette out in a little can half full of rain water and tucks it behind a pipe. She throws a piece of gum into her mouth and walks back to the front. She unlocks the door and as usual, sees her mom sitting in front of the TV petting her little Pomeranian. She sighs, "Hey mom."

Brittany POV

Sent by Sam: What are your plans after work?

Sent to Sam: Not much. Why? What's up?

Sent by Sam: Dinner?

Sent to Sam: Yeah! Sure! Sounds good.

Sent by Sam: Pick you up at 8?

Sent to Sam: It's a date!

Sent by Sam: (heart emoji)

Brittany places her phone back into her backpack. In a small dance studio, Brittany is alone with the music blaring and a pencil in her hand. A pad of paper sits on top of a large speaker and her laptop is on a small table against the wall. Brittany looks at herself in the mirror again, repeatedly going over some choreography she just put together. She's been here for the last 3 hours trying to figure out why it doesn't look right. She figures she will give it another hour before she gives up and goes home.

Both of Brittany's parents are doctors and her younger sister is an honour roll student. Brittany is a dancer. Her parents are proud of her and her sister looks up to her but they all know that Brittany isn't the most intelligent one of the bunch. Her grades were never good and one time her sister had to help her with a makeup history exam. She once overheard her sister's friends ask why her older sister is so stupid. She walked away trying not to let the words of ninth graders affect her. She went down to the basement, locked the door, and blasted some music; letting her body take over her mind and comfort her. That day, she danced for hours, only stopping when her dad knocked on the door to call her up for dinner.

Sometimes, Brittany gets lost in thought. Usually, it's a song playing in her head and she's trying to figure out the perfect choreography for it. Sometimes she likes to daydream about being a professional dancer instead of a choreographer, possibly touring with Justin Timberlake or Janet Jackson or even Justin Bieber. She doesn't watch much TV, but she loves to read books. She loves to imagine the characters and see the scenes play out in her own head rather than watch a movie. Sometimes, this happens during class, and she has no idea what the teacher is talking about. Sometimes she doesn't even know what class she's in. She managed to squeak by high school, graduating with one of the lowest GPA's in her grade, but when she applied and got an interview with a prestigious dance college after her high school dance coach wrote a referral letter for her, they were blown away by her talent and knowledge in this particular art form.

People love Brittany. She's cheerful, polite, and incredibly friendly. Everyone in college loved her and everyone at work admires her. She was well liked in high school as well, but it's not to say she wasn't teased and words were not spoken behind her back about how dumb she was or how she was lucky she was cute and had a banging body. Rumors spread that she slept with her teachers to give her a passing grade, but she just laughed it off, pretending it was funny. It wasn't funny.

There's a knock on the door and Brittany hops down the stairs to open it. There, stands a taller man with pale skin like hers but with ash brown hair and green eyes. He's a good looking man. Girls like to talk to him, flirt with him, or even just stare at him, but he doesn't pay much attention to them. Sam and Brittany have been best friends since college. He was taking a class for music in the performing arts when he walked in on Brittany dancing and he couldn't take his eyes off of her. They have been best friends ever since.

"Hey! Right on time!" Brittany says as she closes the door behind her.

"Aren't I always?" Sam says as they walk together towards his car.

"That's one thing I love about you," Brittany says with a smile as she opens the door to his black Dodge Dart Rallye.

When both doors close and they buckle up their seatbelt, Sam asks, "What else do you love about me?"

"Hmm," Brittany mulls the thought over as if it were difficult to think of a reason why she loves her best friend. "Your taste in food is impeccable!"

"Hence why we are dining, yet again," Sam looks at her with a giant smile before driving off to one of his favourite Japanese restaurants. It's a pricy place but he is more than happy to foot the bill for his best friend.

After dinner, Sam takes Brittany out salsa dancing just for the heck of it and she loves it. Any chance she gets to dance makes her happy, and Sam knows this. They dance to the upbeat rhythm for an hour before Sam is too tired to continue. He drives her home and walks her to her front door.

"Hope you had fun m'lady," Sam says with a little bow.

"With you? Always." Brittany unlocks her door.

"Hey, are you forgetting something?"

Brittany turns around and Sam's arms are wide open and puppy dog eyes are looking back at her. Brittany chuckles and leans in for the hug. Sam holds onto her tightly before letting her go but not before giving her a peck on the cheek.

"You're awesome, Best! Thanks for the 'date,'" she laughs and takes a step inside the frame of the door. "Your next girlfriend is gonna be a lucky one."

Sam blushes and nods, "If she ever comes along."

"When, not if," Brittany winks. "Have a goodnight."

"Goodnight, Britt."

Brittany closes the door and washes up before going over some paperwork for the upcoming summer boot-camp she is supposed to be instructing on her own for the first time.

Comments? Concerns? Constructive criticism? Please be kind. XOXO