AN: Thanks for all your input. Let the story continue.
Brittany POV
"Getting nervous yet?" Sam asks two weeks before Brittany's boot-camp starts. "You shouldn't be though, they are the ones that should be nervous, you can be damn strict, Britt," he says with a smile.
Brittany chuckles and throws her half bitten Cheeto at her best friend. "I may be strict, but it's a boot-camp, Sam. What do you expect me to be? And, yes, I'm nervous so stop making me feel worse about it. I have no idea what these people are going to be like. What if they don't listen? What if they hate me? What if half of them drop out before the first month is even over?" She says more seriously.
Sam's smirk dies. "Hey, I'm sorry. You're going to be great. Your routines rock, you're creative, and please, everyone you teach loves you. These people, troubled or not, won't be any different," he says with an encouraging smile.
"Thanks," Brittany sighs nervously.
"Here," Sam says as he opens his arms.
Brittany shuffles herself over to Sam's side of the couch and leans against his chest, always comforted by his arms. Sam wraps himself around her securely before continuing. "You're going to be fine, Britt. They're going to love you."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because I'm your best friend, and as your best friend I'm honest with you. And I'm honestly telling you that you will be just great. The company is going to love you, the participants are going to love you, and I…"
Brittany looks up at him for him to continue.
"… and I promise you that everyone will have a great time," he finishes quietly and gives Brittany a peck on the top of the head.
"Thanks, Bestie."
\
Brittany is putting on her jacket after finishing their lunch and watching their weekend movie. She needs to go back to work for a little bit to pick up some paperwork and finalize the summer sessions. As she is looking through her purse for her car keys, she looks up and sees Sam standing at the door nervously.
"What's up?" She asks as she continues to scrounge through her bag.
"Um, nothing. No. That's a lie. Brittany, can we talk about something?"
Brittany finds her keys and when she looks up for the second time, her eyes match his in nervousness. "Of course, but it's gotta be quick. The college closes in just over an hour and if I don't get these papers done I'm not getting paid. "
Sam is silent as he chews on his inner cheek.
"Sam, what's wrong?"
"What are we?" Sam almost mumbles but it's enough for Brittany to hear.
Her eyes scrunch at his question, "Human?"
Lightening the mood doesn't help when Sam's expression doesn't change.
"No, I mean, what are we?" He motions from him to her and back.
Brittany knows what he's asking but she doesn't want him to ask the question she's dreading. Brittany loves Sam. Sam is the brother, the buddy, the best friend she's always wanted. He's perfect.
Sam takes a step forward and Brittany tries her best not to take one back
"We're… we're best friends, Sam," She tries her best to be ignorant to his real question.
"Just best friends?" His hands are fists at his sides.
"Yeah, what else would we be?" Brittany feels incredibly guilty as she sees Sam's face deflate, but then it rises again.
"More."
"More?" God, please don't do this, Sam.
Sam takes a step forward and places gentle hands on Brittany's wrists. He brings his body towards hers and pulls her in. Just as he is about to lean in, she tilts her head down and raises her hand to his chest to stop him.
"Sam." She shakes her head.
"Brittany…"
"Please," her words are hard to get out. Trying to keep her tears at bay and feeling a sob coming up from her throat, please is all she manages to say.
An audible swallow comes from Sam as he lets go of her wrists, "Okay, I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry, too," she sniffs and wipes away the tear that decides to fall.
"Please don't cry."
With another sniff, Brittany grabs her purse and walks towards the door. She feels like she's moving fast, but she knows she's not. She takes a step outside and Sam's voice stops her.
"Are we okay? Still best friends?"
Brittany can hear the worry in his voice. She looks back at him with as much of a smile as she can muster. "Still best friends," she confirms with a nod before taking another step and closing the door behind her.
Her legs can't take her any faster to her car. Once the door closes she gasps, not realizing she was holding her breath. She hates that she hurt Sam. She hates that he has these feelings for her. She hates that she doesn't. Sam would be the perfect boyfriend, just not for her.
When Sam first approached Brittany at school; walking into her practice session, Brittany had found Sam very attractive; with his fit body, charming good looks, and thick pouty lips. They got along well and right away hung out whenever they could. After dating for only a couple months, Brittany seriously considered starting an exclusive relationship with him, but eventually, they settled into a comfortable friendship and she realized this is what she wants from him. This is the perfect friendship. Now, it's hard for her to think of him as anything other than this. And in this painful moment, she really hopes she didn't just lose her best friend because she didn't want something more.
Deciding that she will call him tomorrow to make sure everything is alright between them, she wipes her face and takes a sip of water that has been sitting in her car and turns on the ignition. She drives towards the college to get what she needs.
After Brittany picks up the papers, she peaks into the dance studio. Seeing that it's empty and that she has 45 minutes left. She decides to let herself in and release some of her emotions. She plugs in her iPod and begins to move to the music. When she catches the beat, she starts to really move.
Sooner than she expects, there is a knock on the door. It is the janitor. Brittany looks up at the clock.
"Oh, shoot. I'm sorry!" she exclaims and rushes to unplug her music and pick up her bag.
"Don't worry," the short, skinny, pale skinned man says. "It's nice to watch you in your element. You're quite the dancer. I bet you're getting an A in your class."
Brittany just laughs, "I'm the teacher. Well, I'm one of the teachers here."
"Really? Wow, I'm sorry. You just look so young."
"It's alright, I get that a lot. Thanks for letting me stay 15 minutes after closing. The time just flew by."
"Like I said, don't worry about it. Time flew for me when I was watching you," the man said with a wink. "Now get out so I can clean," he says with a chuckle.
"Right, right! I'm already gone. Thanks again!" Brittany says and quickly exits the studio and then the college.
That evening, Brittany receives a text from Sam acting as if nothing happened. She is more than happy to accept it. She hates when things are awkward. So, she carries the conversation as if this afternoon never happened, but she knows deep down that she should be more careful when she's around Sam not to lead him on.
Santana POV
"Are you all done packing?" Quinn asks as they walk down the busy New York streets with half a hot dog in one hand and a soda in the other.
"Almost," Santana says as she chews on the other half of the hotdog and then takes a sip of her water. "I honestly have no idea what to expect, so I'm just bringing a bunch of work out gear."
"You probably over packed."
"I probably did, but I don't know if they have laundry there."
"It's almost a two month program, Santana. They're going to have some place for you to do laundry."
"Yeah, you're right. I should probably go through my luggage again. Take out some stuff."
"I can help you after we meet with Andrew," Quinn says as she throws the hotdog wrapper into the garbage can. Santana follows and does the same.
Andrew is the third member of their group. He has brown hair with a blondish tinge and hazel eyes. Santana had always thought Andrew was gay, but since the topic never came up, Santana never asked. The three of them went to high school together. Andrew was a member of the wrestling team and the three of them had P.E. together one year and they spent the entire year chatting. If Andrew wasn't on the wrestling team and Santana and Quinn weren't cheerleaders that year, they probably would have failed since they hardly did much else other than walk around and chat.
The three of them sit around a patio table. Each of them with a beer in front of them and fries and deep fried pickles in the middle to share. Andrew just came back from a week long wrestling competition and decided that he wanted to catch up with his two best friends and tell them all about it.
"So, Santana is going to leave us this summer to dance," Quinn says when she settles her beer back onto the table.
"What?" Andrew says with wide eyes focused in Santana's direction.
After sighing, Santana tells Andrew the whole story about her mom wanting her to commit to something and then come back knowing what she wants to do in life. She shrugs, pretending to not give a fuck about the whole situation. But in reality, she's nervous but also a little excited to be going to L.A. by herself.
"So, you're going to L.A. all by yourself for two months?" Andrew asks.
"Almost two months," Santana answers. "Seven weeks to be exact."
"That's intense. Why dance? Why L.A.?"
"Dance is the only thing I was remotely interested in and L.A. because it's far away from my mom. I mean, I love her but, she's getting to be too much."
Both Santana's friends nod. They know Santana's situation with her mom. She's a nice woman but she can be overbearing.
"So," Santana ask and picks up a pickle. "What happened at the wrestling competition last week? Did you win? Were there hot guys in tight spandex?" She wiggles her eyebrows at Andrew, but Andrew frowns.
"What do you mean hot guys? I don't notice hot guys, Santana. I'm not gay."
"Woah, I never said you were gay, Andrew. I asked for mine and Quinn's benefit. You know, if you met some and became friends with them, you could potentially bring them home for us!" She says, trying to tone down the tension.
The frown not leaving his face, Andrew continues answering her question, "No, I didn't win. I came in 5th place."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Quinn says.
"Yeah, but at least you had fun right?" Santana asks.
Andrew shrugs, the bitter look on his face making Santana feel a little guilty until the next words that come out of his mouth causes her face to distort into the same look he's giving her.
"It was fun. Well, it was fun until I found out that I had to fight a fag on the last day. It ruined the rest of my week."
"Woah!" Santana says and sits up straighter, putting her hands out to stop his words. "Easy with the language there, Andrew."
"What? It's true," Andrew responds with a shrug. "I spent half the week worrying about him touching and groping me in places no other man needs to touch."
Santana raises and eyebrow and looks over at Quinn, but Quinn's eyes are focused directly at Andrew. Santana slowly turns her head back when Andrew continues.
"That's the reason I lost the match. I didn't want him copping a feel or something. I didn't want him to get a hard-on when I have him in a lock or pin him. That's just fucking disgusting!"
Santana opens her mouth to speak but not words come out. She's shocked. Again, she looks over at Quinn, but Quinn is nodding her head in agreement.
Finally, Santana decides to ask, "So, did he? Did he 'cop a feel' or 'grope you'? Did he hit on you?" She says trying hard not to roll her eyes at him.
"Fuck no! I stayed away from him. I would have forfeited the match if my coach wasn't so strict. Besides, the faggot had a boyfriend. Saw them making out at the afterparty."
"Ugh, that's gross," The words from Quinn causes Santana to snap her head around towards her best friend, "they probably wanted a three-way with you too."
"Fuck you, Fabray. But, probably," Andrew sticks up his middle finger to the blonde and then shrugs.
"Hold up, hold up here. Am I hearing this correctly? You guys have a problem with gays?" Santana holding her gaze mostly on Quinn.
"I don't when they're not touching me or making out in front of me," Andrew says and takes a handful of cold fries and shoves them in his mouth.
"Yeah," Quinn agrees. "They're fine to watch on television. They're entertaining, I'm sure Ellen is a good person. It's just –"
"Disgusting!" Andrew interrupts.
"Yeah," Quinn says. Eyes looking down at her beer before polishing off the glass. Refusing to meet Santana's glare.
"Why, Santana? You have a thing for the homos?" Andrew asks with a smirk.
Santana's mouth opens to answer. Looking back and forth between her two 'best friends', "No? I mean, like, they're still people and most of the ones I've met have been super nice. They're just regular people."
"Yeah, regular gay people who do gay things together. It's so unnatural, Santana. Your friends need to straighten themselves out or something, because dick and dick should not go together."
"But I'm sure you watch lesbian porn," Santana spits out.
Andrew laughs, "Of course. It's fucking hot!"
Santana rolls her eyes and grabs her purse from behind her. She takes out some money from her wallet and tosses her share onto the table. "I've gotta go home to pack. I'm sure you guys can carry on this conversation without me." She stands up and her chair gets pushed back harder than she intended.
Both Andrew and Quinn look up at her in surprise.
"Wait!" Quinn says and grips onto the Santana's wrist.
Santana really hoping Quinn has finally gotten to her senses and is going to speak out against Andrew.
"I told you I was going to help go through your luggage with you, I'll go too."
Santana squints her eyes in disbelief, "No, Quinn. You can stay here with Andrew. I'll be fine doing that myself. I'm sure you have a lot to catch up on."
Quinn looks over at Andrew and shrugs. Like she has no idea why Santana is suddenly so angry.
"Okay," Quinn says and looks back over to her. "I'll call you when we're finished and maybe I'll come over if you're still packing."
Santana shakes her head and exhales a tired breath. "Whatever, Quinn. I'll… I'll see you guys. I really gotta go." She grabs her purse and stomps away from the little outdoor patio they are sitting at and walks about a block before hailing a taxi and goes home.
Once home, she angrily digs through her purse tossing out her sunglasses and a pack of gum in favour of finding her pack of cigarettes. She hides once again at the side of her house and takes in multiple long drags. She hammers a fist against the brick wall at her frustration. These are her only two friends and they're homophobes. Santana knows she's at least bi. She doesn't know if she's fully into women or not, considering she still enjoys a good fuck with a guy once in a while, but to know her friends, especially Quinn, is against homosexuality just tears her apart. She tosses the butt into the can behind the pipe and takes out another stick right away.
Finally, after finishing her second cigarette, she goes into her house and looks around for her mom. She finds a note on the kitchen table.
Santana,
Out to get my hair colored, then going to get my feet massaged. Won't be home til late. There's chicken in the fridge.
- Mom
Sighing, Santana drags herself into her room and reaches behind her closet door again. Opening the bottle of vodka and taking a swig before looking at her suitcase and the clothes sitting in and beside it. She walks over to it, considering going through it but instead she knocks over the pile with a hard swing of her left arm and then takes another sip of vodka. She kicks at the clothes and then after another two sips, she tightens the cap and tosses it onto a pile of clothes in her closet. She falls on top of her bed, face first into her pillow.
She can't wait to leave this city.
Comments? Concerns? Constructive criticism? Please be kind. XOXO