AN: Hey everyone, this is a new update. Are you still interested? Or should I just drop it?
Nervously tapping my feet on the very expensive looking granite floor my sneakers make just the slightest sound possible, I stare at my best friend and purse my lips in frustration. We're sitting in our favorite little coffee shop, Nancy's, the place we spent most of our afternoons and evenings during college and I asked her to meet me here. I shoved an envelope into her hands the minute she sat down and asked her to read it – that was about ten minutes ago and since then, she's been quiet. I know that my staring irritates her, interrupts her concentration, but I am trying to read her facial expressions. Usually, I am a master at reading her, she's like an open book to me. She can never hide her emotions from me. But today, she's giving me her best poker face and I don't like it. Chewing on the inside of my bottom lip, I tilt my head to the right and blink a couple of times before I ask, "So, what do you think?"
"Sshssh", she hisses and simultaneously presses her index finger against her lips, as if I am disturbing the silence of a library. Then she puts the three pages of printed paper onto her lap and licks her lips. The glare she shoots my way is supposed to shut me up, but I can't help the chuckle erupting deep in my throat. And if this situation would be any different, my chuckles would turn into a fit of laughter. But it's not.
The thing is, that I desperately need to know what she's thinking, because I sat at my desks three nights in a row, not getting much sleep and completely ignoring the waiting stack of homework I have to do for my law school classes. Instead I have been editing and perfecting my fan fiction – surviving on coffee and cereals – word count 1834 and before I even consider submitting it to the Callie Torres fan fiction contest, I need to know her opinion. I know Anna's, she pointed out the errors for me, she already loves it. But I need Teddy's too. It's like an urge to know her thoughts about it. Both of my friends have – despite their utter support – always been honest with me, they always tell me when they don't like something. So it's kind of natural that this little work of fiction needs my best friend's approval before I make my final decision. After all, deadline is only three days away. "Teddy, you're killing me heeeeere", I say, dragging the last word out until I need to take a breath. She knows she is. I can see it in her eyes and I am inclined to hate her for doing it on purpose.
"I think that this right here", she says, pointing at the papers, "that this is one fine piece of work and if you don't think about submitting this to Ellen's contest, I'm going to kill you and claim this story as my own." Her blue eyes find mine and for a moment, I go back to staring at her, speechless and motionless this time. "You wrote this for the meet and greet challenge, didn't you?"
I nod, slowly, still not knowing what to say. I mean, when I finished it last night, finally pleased with the last touches and changes, I thought it was good. I still think it is good, but I am also still indecisive whether it is good enough and worth a submission, even though I wrote it purely for that. "You really think it's worth a try?", I ask, insecurity getting the better of me. It's always the same. I can be one-hundred percent certain that I am a good writer in one second, and the next, I am doubting my ability compose at least one good sentence.
Teddy smiles brightly at me and after finishing the rest of her coffee, she asks, "You still need to give it a title, what do you have in mind?" This time she's the one tilting her head and raising two perfectly shaped eyebrows at me in question.
I blush instantly. I did have a title before I even started writing this, but I feel kind of silly for choosing it. Especially if Iwill tell her. Don't get me wrong, Teddy knows everything and most of the times I am not even embarrassed when I tell her stories from my horribly gone wrong dates. But she's not the super romantic corny love story kind of a girl, so I think she'll laugh. Looking at her, I eventually answer, "Give your heart a break." And then I look away.
"Ha!", she exclaims. "Smart girl. Using Callie's first single as the title is a smart move. Makes it stick out, I'm sure. And it fits. But do you want to know what I like the most?", she asks and of course, my head snaps back around and I nod eagerly, like a little kid that gets asked if it wants chocolate pudding for dinner. "You. I mean, the you in your story. Even though she has no name, it's obvious that it's you. But it's not the usual you you use for your stories. This you is much braver, dare I say, bold to make such a move and kiss the famous Callie Torres in an airport."
I feel the blush creep into my cheeks at her words and bite my lips to suppress the squeal that threatens to leave my mouth. I did give my own character more courage than I could probably ever muster if I ever met Callie. Speaking for myself, I can say that I would most likely just stammer and stutter around, not being able to cope with meeting my crush, but the me in my story? She's not that girl. She's brave and definitely some kind of a daredevil for following the Callie in my story into an airport restroom and kissing her out of the blue. Kissing her fiercely, might I add.
"Hey, A, are you still with me?", Teddy asks, waving her hand and snapping her fingers in front of my face, I must have zoned out, so I mumble a quick sorry and stare at my fingers. "I give you all the encouraging words known in the English language and you just fall into a daydream right in front of me", she huffs and then winks, letting me know she isn't mad at all. "Anyway, I was saying that I really think you should submit this. It's the perfect match of humor and romance, and even though it's short, you managed to give your characters some depth."
"That's exactly what I was going for", I say with a smile when she hands me the papers over the small table standing between us. "So, I am really doing this?"
Teddy just grins at me and then replies, "If you know what's good for you, you will submit this. If not, I'll do it and might use your name or maybe mine." I laugh at her words. "You know me well enough to know that I would do it. And then, when they announce your story as the winner, I get to see Callie Torres and not you."
"That's plagiarism!", I say, laughing even harder now. I know she's joking. Teddy can be mean, she can be pushy and even embarrassing in front of people and sometimes, she can talk without a filter but deep down, she has a heart of pure gold and she'd never do that to me. "Where are you going?", I ask when I see my best friend reaching for her purse.
Standing up, she pays for our coffee and heads for the door. "Just hit the damn send button when you get home", she yells at me over her shoulder before leaving Nancy's.
I have no clue how she knows that the email is already saved up in my drafts, so I stare at the door a little bit dumbfounded for a minute, maybe two. "Just hit the send button", I repeat, saying those same words over and over again, using them as some sort of mantra until I will get home, hoping it will work. I check the time and jump right out of the armchair I have been lounging in, yelping a loud, "Shit!" before I get my stuff together. I'm going to be late for class, something that actually never happened before. As I hurry out of the coffee shop I send a prayer up to the heavens above, praying that one, I can sneak in and two, that I find the courage to hand in my story.
"Today's the day, isn't it?", Teddy asks me at least for the tenth time within the last week, watching amused as I play with the remote of the TV. She knows all too well that I need something to occupy myself with or I might go crazy. The show has started fifteen minutes ago and I can't handle the excitement.
It's been four weeks since I wrote 'Give Your Heart A Break' and sent the email on its way just minutes before the deadline ran out. And tonight is the night Callie will announce the winner. I think I am going insane, I've been feeling this way for days, my mind fighting an inner battle of anticipation and anxiety with a slight mix of insecurity and a lot of craziness. I haven't slept a night through in more than a week, I am literally running on caffeine and sugar to make it through my days full of classes and study groups – which I actually don't even need. But my father said that it never hurts to get to know new people, saying something about experience and stuff. Well, it certainly wouldn't hurt to meet Callie Torres, even it would only be for a few minutes. But meeting and getting to know my fellow students? In some cases it does hurt.
"Do you need something, dears?", my mother yells from the kitchen and I quickly answer that we're good. She's just trying to be nice, kind of trying to make it up to me for forcing me into law school, I know that. But it's not necessary. I know my parents intentions were good, that still doesn't mean that I agree with their plans for my life.
"Are we?", Teddy questions and raises an eyebrow. Our original plan was to watch Ellen's at her place, but that plan flew out of the window when the whole dorm room building had to be closed due to the damaged the water caused when a pipe burst a few days ago. So she's staying at my parents' place too. Which is nice. But having to watch Ellen's in the living room? Well, let's just say I rather not have my mother witness my reaction, to whatever happens. She shouldn't ever be allowed to see my reaction to Callie Torres on a stage, singing or not, that wouldn't be good, that would be mortifying. So I'm hoping she'll make herself scarce and stay in the kitchen or elsewhere.
"Not really", I answer and check the time again, I'm fidgety already. It's always the same. Nobody should ever have such a strong crush on someone they never even met in person. How is that even possible? Why can the human body and brain react like that? "Finally", I sigh when Callie enters the stage. She looks drop-dead gorgeous. Not that I expected anything else, but it's almost too much to manage. Her hair is pulled back into a neat ponytail, luscious reddish colored lips smile into the camera and even her eyes smile at the audience. It's amazing, captivating, infatuating. The status of my feelings right now? Beyond smitten. I turn up the volume, the sound of her voice sends chills down my spine and causes goose bumps to appear everywhere, visible skin or not. And for the fraction of a moment I forget that she's going to announce the winner.
It's not even funny. I am sitting on the edge of the couch, completely torn. The fan in me is overly excited. The woman in me is utterly mesmerized by the beautiful goddess dressed in black slacks and a white shirt that contrasts so amazingly with her dark hair and caramel colored skin. And the writer inside of me is so close to just run and not even wait for the outcome. "How can you be so calm?", I ask my best friend, my feet once again moving rapidly. "You should at least be nervous with me, it's a kind of solidarity to suffer with your best friend."
"You're not suffering", she rebuts and keeps watching.
When Ellen hands Callie an envelope, the light in the studio dims down so you can only see the two women in the spot light.
"This is the winner?", Ellen asks and Callie nods, still smiling and still looking straight into the camera. Clearly, she's trying to kill me with that look.
"Yes, this is the moment I have been looking forward to for weeks. Your submissions were amazing. Some were quite funny, most of them were romantic love stories, others were filled with more drama and angst", she says and then a thought strikes me. Did she read the stories? "After your team selected the ones that were according to the rules, I've made sure to read all of them." Shit. "Some of you have such an amazing talent and I feel blessed to be a part of this little contest. And I am even more happy to say that I chose the winner myself." Double shit. In this moment, my stomach drops. I'm fairly certain now that she's not going to say my name. She can't. It's impossible.
I'm not doing this to myself. Nope. Not happening. I put my hands over my ears and close my eyes. I'm still able to hear the TV, but it's not as prominent as it was before. Hearing the little chit-chat between Callie and Ellen, I try to remember if we have any strong liquor in the house, but I don't know anymore. And then everything around me goes silent, as if my brain shuts everything out that isn't the Latina's voice as she says "And the winner is..."