Chapter 8: Aftermath
"Merry Christmas, Santana." You whisper onto her lips. You feel high, like you've finally had a taste of what you've been craving for and now you want more.
You were right, after all. With feelings, it's so much better.
"It seems like we have a few things to talk about." Santana's fingers dance across your forehead, moving some of your blonde hair from your face. Her hand stops at your cheeks, finding purchase there.
You nod in response and reluctantly remove yourself from her body, no longer pinning her to the wall. You don't know what to do now so you just stand there and wait for her to make the next move. You hadn't really prepared yourself for this.
You were fidgety and nervous all day because you had thought Santana was mad at you. It's why you just had to see her today, even if that meant leaving your parents home early. Because last night, the way she looked at you once the topic of your date with Sam came up, it did something to you. It ignited something in you. And you knew it was stupid to go on that date. It was childish and experimental, and not at all fair to either Santana or Sam.
"Sorry, I just need a minute to change gears." Santana breaks you from your thoughts and you watch as she moves to the couch, her hand rubbing at the back of her neck. You follow her silently and she continues, "I wasn't really expecting that to happen."
"Me too. I was honestly just planning on bringing your container back." You chuckle softly, "But when you told me you were thinking of leaving..." Your heartbeat quickens and you feel your cheeks grow hot.
Moving your hand up to your lips, you make sure they're still there. You realize it's a silly thought because of course they're still there, but for some reason they're still tingling.
You hope you didn't cross a line. You hope you weren't just imagining everything between the two of you. But what if you did though? You feel nervous all of a sudden as you begin to doubt yourself. Oh god, what if you've become that person who thinks someone is automatically into you now just because you've found out they're gay?
Santana seems to notice you're internal struggle because she's looking curiously at you. It doesn't exactly help that she's not saying anything. You wish you could just read her mind right now.
"Britt," Santana finally speaks up, her eyes watching you, "You're thinking about it too much."
Oh god, she knows. "Sorry." You mumble. It hasn't really hit you until now that you've just all but confessed your feelings for her, without even knowing for sure what that means, or if she even felt the same. "This is so embarrassing."
"No, it's not." She smiles softly at you and your chest does that flip thing that it always does when she looks at you like this. You can't believe you just kissed her like that. And now, with the way she's looking at you and the way she kissed you back, was that her way of being nice? She didn't tell you to stop so that's a good sign, right? Or is this a lesbian thing? Do all lesbians just let their best friends kiss them when they go all gay panic on them?
"I don't really know what happens now. I'm not even sure what this means." You admit honestly. You don't want to assume anything. Santana nods like she's thinking it over too.
"It's really up to you, Britt." She says, cautiously. "This is a pretty big revelation for you. You don't have to figure it all out right now."
You nod. She's being careful. She's trying to not scare you away and honestly, you're grateful for that. Sure, you may have feelings for her but that doesn't mean you're in any way ready to talk about that right now. You've only now just come to the realization that you might not exactly be straight.
"You're being so kind." You look at her, "Even though I was so mean to you." You think about how you acted towards her. Cold and distant. She must've thought you hated her if she was scared enough to think she had to move.
"You were. But I'm also kind of dramatic." She smiles a little, lightening the mood, "I just really missed my best friend."
Best friend. It's not hard to miss her choice of words. "Me too." You nod slowly. She holds your eyes and you duck them shyly. "So, I know I just…you know," kissed you, "but could we maybe not talk about that right this second? I think I still need some time to figure things out. Again, I really wasn't planning to do any of that, it just sort of happened..."
When you look back at her, her expression is still just as soft and she nods, "Of course, Britt. Take as much time as you need."
You sit in silence with Santana until you're eventually yawning consecutively. Each time you try to fight it because it's nice to just be sitting there beside her but your body is telling you that you need to sleep soon. Santana notices and encourages you to start heading home before you're too tired to drive.
You kind of don't want to though because the way she said it implies that if you don't leave soon, she won't let you, due to your sleepy state. Your mind wanders to the idea of waking up in Santana's home. Would you sleep on her couch? Her bed?
You shake those thoughts from your mind because she's your best friend. She said so herself.
Eventually though, she leads the way as you both move towards her front door. She opens it for you slowly and now your nervous again because you don't know what's appropriate anymore. Santana doesn't let your mind wander long, making the decision for you as she steps forward, pulling you in for a hug.
"Text me when you get home safe." She mumbles into your hair and you resist the urge to turn your head into the crook of her neck. Like you've done so many times before.
You just hold her there and bid her a good night.
Once you're safely in your car, you exhale in relief. You feel different. Like your entire life is changing and you don't really know what to do with yourself.
You think of Santana the entire drive home. You think of her lips and her smile. And her smell. That fresh out of the bath Santana smell, and how it made you feel dizzy. So dizzy. Then you think of your clothes on her body and you blush because it makes you think that maybe she really does have feelings for you.
You shake your head. No. You need to figure out your own mess first. It wouldn't be fair to pull her into something if you don't even know what to make of your own feelings. You need to figure yourself out before even entertaining the thought of Santana maybe seeing you as something more than a friend. You need to be careful.
The following few days pass by in a blur.
You groan as you sit up in bed, the morning sun slowly peeking in. You check your phone and see a missed call from Sam. You roll your eyes because for the past few days, he's called you more times than you'd care for - which, if you're being completely honest, is probably any number greater than zero. You wish he would just get the hint and stop but you know shutting him out isn't the right way to handle this. You may not be straight anymore but that doesn't mean you're suddenly a monster.
Plus it's Sunday morning now, meaning you'll have to go to church and see him. And your parents. And everyone else who has questions about your date. Eventually, you build up enough strength to get ready.
It's still early by the time you're walking through the Church doors and you're immediately greeted by a few of the volunteers. You make your way into the auditorium and sigh when you see him. Sam. He's already on the stage, just like he is every Sunday, talking with your father.
"Brittany!" Your father bellows from the stage. You smile at him as you make your way down the aisle and towards the front.
"Morning, dad." You greet at your father, purposefully not making eye contact with Sam. You know he's looking at you but you don't want to encourage him any further.
"Good morning, Britt." Sam speaks up and you're forced to look at him in order to not seem rude. You offer him a small smile and that's all.
You don't really know why but after your date with him, you have this newfound sense of clarity now. You think it's because you had always thought of his little crush on you as kind of cute, but now that you're learning how you really feel, it just makes everything kind of uncomfortable.
You can't help but think of Santana and how soft she was toward you. How patient she's being. Since you last saw her, she's texted you only a handle of times, making you glad that you no longer have to worry if things are still weird between the two of you.
Each text was something random, nothing to do with what happened on Christmas night, like she knew you sometimes just needed a distraction from your thoughts.
The coffee shop on 9th has aiight blueberry muffins.
A group of frogs is called an army.
I just met a dog named Harry. We're friends now.
Each random message turned into string of messages about whatever it was that prompted her to send you something so out of the blue. Just thinking about her and the way she just gets you makes your chest do that thing again.
Looking at Sam still smiling at you, it honestly just makes you feel like you're a horrible person. You know you can't go on knowing he has hope for something more so you motion for him to follow you and he does, finding a spot in the back of the auditorium that's mostly private.
You feel bad because you can feel how hopeful he is in this moment. It's awkward but you do your very best to let him down easily. The way his face falls as you tell him it'll never happen again, makes you kind of hate yourself for leading him on and asking him out on a whim.
He doesn't say much. He doesn't even ask for a reason. When you tell him that you hope he'll still be your friend, it surprises you that he seems shocked at that.
He's sincere when he tells you that he's sad but there's no hard feelings. That he's just glad to have been able to take you out at least once and you tell him that you genuinely had fun. It's not a lie. Sam's a really great guy and you know he'll have no problem finding someone who will truly appreciate his bad impressions and nerdy charm. He's just not what you're looking for.
Once he leaves to walk back to the stage, you make your way to the side section of the the church and greet a few of the Sunday School teachers. You move to the registration desk and prepare for the onslaught of parents coming in to drop off their children.
Sunday School can be great at times, but mostly it's just glorified babysitting. Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you sigh, thinking it's Sam again, but smile shyly when you see that it's not.
San: A banana contains 75% water.
Giggling at Santana's message, you wonder why she's up so early on a Sunday morning. You know she's not a morning person, and you're pretty sure 7:00 a.m is considered too early, especially on a weekend. So why is it that she's up so early and how did she come to learn this interesting - and unnecessary - new fact.
Britt: Explain.
San: I was watching a documentary.
Britt: At 7am on a Sunday morning?
San: No, silly. I watched it last night. But it was too late so I didn't want to wake you.
Britt: So you woke up early just to tell me?
San: Mm. I set an alarm and everything.
You can't help but smile widely now. How does she manage to do this to you so easily?
"Who's that?" A voice brings you back to reality and you look to your left to find your mother standing there.
"Huh? Oh-" You stutter, "Just a friend." Your mother narrows her eyes playfully at you before taking a seat beside you.
"Just a friend, huh? Would this friend's name happen to be Sam?" She wiggles her eyebrows, making you roll your eyes. At your reaction she perks up, "Oh? It's not Sam?"
"Mom," You shake your head, "Sam isn't going to happen. I told him today that it's not going to work out. I'm just texting a friend from work."
You're mother eyes the side of your face for a second before shrugging, "Okay, so who's this friend from work that's got you smiling all doe-eyed?" She asks and you instantly feel like you've been caught with your hand in the cookie jar. You clear your throat in an attempt to sound normal.
"Her name is Santana. And I'm not smiling all doe-eyed. She just texted me a joke is all." You turn away and you feel your heartbeat quicken. You've never had to lie like this before. Especially to your own mother.
"Oh." Your mother deflates, "Brittany, why didn't you start with that, then? You got me all excited for nothing."
You breathe out in relief once your mother changes the subject to what your father's message is about today. When the families begin filing in one after another, your mother greets the parents and you make sure to greet the children.
It's an easy dance that you and your mother have perfected a long time ago. The wife and daughter of the head pastor, you both have these roles that you're expected to take on. And what better roles than to bring up young minds in the way of the church?
You're the picture-perfect Christian family. All that's missing is your picture-perfect Christian husband and eventually a picture-perfect Christian child to tie it all together.
But then there's Santana. Santana, a woman, who after you first laid eyes on, you wanted nothing more than to know everything about her. It's unexplainable. The way she held herself, there was like a certain level of coolness that surrounded her that made you feel like you were lucky she even wanted to spend time with you.
Looking back on it now, how could you have been so blind? But then again, maybe you weren't. She made your chest tighten even when she would just glance at you from across the room. And although you may not have understood it completely then, you must've known what you were doing. The way you made it your mission to chase after that feeling was evidence enough.
You couldn't wait to see the way she would always visibly soften the first time she sees you every day. A special adjustment, just for you. During every chapel, you couldn't wait to learn more. You'd bake her a million breakfast cupcakes just to see her smile every time. You'd write her a million little notes until her walls were filled with them.
They keep me sane.
They way she said that so casually, like it wasn't easily the best compliment you've ever received in your life. Okay, maybe that's being a bit dramatic but it came from Santana so automatically it's the best.
You can't help but think that since she's obviously more experienced than you in the ways of lady liking, she had to have known what you were feeling. The past few months have been shameless flirting, mostly on your part and now you know why Santana would always flush so easily.
She always seemed so analytical in her movements around you. So calculated, like she didn't want to overstep. You realize that you were the one initiated a lot of your contact.
But then there were also times where she would let herself slip, and relax a little. Those are the best times.
You would catch her, sometimes, humming the same song when she didn't even realize she was doing it. That song, your favorite song, the one that played softly in the back of your mind the first day you met, haunts you in the most delicious way now. She's attached herself to it and every time you hear it come from her lips, you feel like you could fly.
You think about that for a second and smile to yourself. If that thought alone doesn't confirm it then you're clearly still in denial. But you're not anymore, and you know it now.
You're falling for her. It's so glaringly obvious now.
You look around at your surroundings and laugh at the irony. Here, in your family's church, you've discovered a piece of yourself. A piece that you fear they would never fully accept.
For so long, your existence has always been about your perfect life as the perfect daughter to your perfect parents.
And you're about to throw a wrench into everything.