CHAPTER 4

As Finn walked up to the door, a million thoughts raced through his mind. Unfortunately, one particular thought did not. He rang the bell and immediately, he heard the booming barks of several dogs. He jumped in the air in astonishment and started running back to the cab.

"NO!" Sam shouted.

"Get back in there!" Quinn exclaimed.

"You're wearing a suit!" Puck added. Finn nodded and ran back up to the house. He watched as Santana stuck her head out of her window.

"Finn?" She said, surprised.

"Hi!" He exclaimed, holding up the blue french horn. She beamed at him.

"Come on up." She said. Finn smiled and walked into the building. Sam, Quinn and Puck watched them from the cab and grinned.

"He's in!" Sam declared.

"So… Ranjit…" Puck said, turning to their Bangladeshi cab driver. "You must have done it with a Lebanese girl."

Sam and Quinn groaned.

"Okay, that's my Puck limit. I'm gonna see if that bodega has a bathroom." Quinn said, getting out of the car.

"Actually, I'm from Bangladesh." Ranjit replied.

"The women hot there?" Puck asked.

"Here's a picture of my wife." He replied, unclipping a picture from the dashboard of his car. Sam and Puck looked at it and shuddered.

"A simple no would have sufficed." Puck whispered to Sam. He then turned to Ranjit. "She's lovely." He said.

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"So Finn, what brings you back to Brooklyn at 1 in the morning in a suit?" Santana asked.

"I was just hoping to… get those olives that you said I could have." Finn stammered.

"Would you like those olives with some gin and vermouth?" Santana asked.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" He chuckled.

"For starters." Santana leaned in and whispered into his ear. She then turned around and walked into the kitchen to grab the drinks. Finn looked up and thanked God that he decided to come here.

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"So, Sam, this olive theory is based on you and Quinn?" He asked.

"Yeah." Sam replied, nervously. "Why?"

"You hate olives, huh? Quinn loves them but you can't stand them?"

"Yeah. Hate olives." Sam mumbled.

"Two weeks ago, Spanish bar on 79th street, dish of olives, you had some, what up?" Puck stated. Sam sighed.

"You have to swear that this does not leave this cab." He started.

"I swear." Puck agreed.

"I swear." Ranjit chimed in. Sam took a deep breath.

"On me and Quinn's first date, I ordered a Greek salad. Quinn asked if she could have my olives. I said sure, I hate olives." He explained.

"But, you like olives!" Puck declared.

"I was 18, okay? I was a virgin! Been waitin' my whole life for a pretty girl to want my olives."

"Sam, I'm gonna give you an early wedding present." Puck offered. "Don't get married!"

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Up in Santana's apartment, Finn and Santana stood in the middle of the room, swaying slowly from side to side in the rhythm of the romantic music Santana was playing.

"I think I like your olive theory." She murmured in ecstasy.

"I think I like your new French horn." Finn replied.

"I think I like your nose." She responded.

"I think I'm in love with you." Finn blurted out. Santana's eyes widened and her mouth dropped. Her arms fell limply by her sides and she stumbled backwards.

"WHAT?"

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"Come on, man, you said your stomach's been hurting. You know what that is? Hunger. You're hungry for experience. Hungry for something new. Hungry for olives. But you're too scared to do anything about it." Puck stated.

"Yeah, I'm scared, okay? But when I think of spending the rest of my life with Quinn. Committing, forever, no other women… that doesn't scare me at all. I'm marrying that girl."

Little did they know that Quinn had heard the last bit of the conversation as she had just come back from the bathroom. She slipped into the cab and she kissed Sam.

"Quinn, I like olives!" Sam declared.

"We'll make it work." She grinned goofily at him and kissed him again.

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Santana and Finn sat on the sofa, avoiding each other's gazes.

"So, Orlando." Finn remarked. "You gonna hit Disneyworld?"

"YOU LOVE ME?!" She shouted. Finn blushed.

"I-I-I can't believe I said that." Finn stammered. "Why did I say that? Who says that? I should just go." He said, standing up and walking towards the door.

"Hold on." Santana said. "Wait a minute."

Finn turned around and she walked into the kitchen before coming back with a jar of olives in her hands.

"I promised you these." She said, handing the jar to him. Finn smiled faintly.

"Olives. Yeah. Thanks. I love you. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!" He exclaimed after his second slip up.

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"Why are we still sitting here?" Puck asked as they sat in the cab outside. "Let's go. We can still make last call. What do you say, Q? Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum?" He joked. "Because you're a pirate."

Quinn sighed and ripped off the eyepatch.

"Okay, eye patch, gone." She snapped. "And we can't just abandon Finn. If it doesn' go well up there, he's gonna need some support."

"It's been like, 20 minutes. Do you think they're doing it?" Sam asked.

"You think they're doin' it in front of the dogs?!" Puck gasped in delight.

"Doggie style." Sam remarked, wryly and Puck laughed.

"Hey, there was this girl in college and she had this golden retriever…" Puck started but Quinn cut him off.

"Okay, we can go to the bar. Just stop talking!" Quinn exclaimed. Puck smirked.

"Hit it, Ranjit!" He declared. Ranjit nodded and took off. Moments later, Finn walked out of the apartment and Santana followed behind him. He turned to her once he stepped out onto the street.

"So, when you tell this story to your friends, could you avoid the word psycho?" Finn asked. "I'd prefer… eccentric."

"Good night… psycho." She replied. Finn nodded and looked out. He groaned as he realised that his friends had driven away without him.

"Um, how do I get to the F train?" He asked.

"Oh, um… two blocks that way and take a right." She said, pointing down the street. Finn nodded and started to walk away. He stopped walking after a couple of seconds, turned around and walked back to Santana.

"You know what?" Finn announced. "I'm done being single. I'm not good at it. Look, obviously, you can't tell a woman you just met you love her. But… it sucks that you can't. I'll tell you something, though. If a woman - not you, just some hypothetical woman - were to bear with me through all this, I think I'd make a damn good husband. Because that's the stuff I'd be good at. Stuff like making her laugh and being a good father. And walking her five hypothetical dogs. Being a good kisser."

"Everyone thinks they're a good kisser." Santana remarked.

"Oh, I've got references." Finn responded. "Look, unless I'm crazy, there's something here."

"You're not crazy." She murmured. "I… I don't know, Finn. I mean, we barely know each other and you're looking at me with that look. And it's like…"

"Like, like what?" Finn asked.

"Like, let's fall in love and get married and have kids and drive them to soccer practise!" She exclaimed.

"I'm not going to force sports on them unless they're interested." Finn replied. Santana giggled.

"It's a great look. But you're looking at the wrong girl."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. I don't want to get married right now, maybe ever. And if we got together, I'd feel like I'd either have to marry you or break your heart and I just… I couldn't do either of those things. Just like you can't turn off the way you feel. I'm sorry."

"So, what do we do now?" Finn asked.

"Well, we could be friends." Santana suggested. Finn chuckled and groaned in pain.

"Ouch. That one hurt." He remarked. She laughed.

"I know it sounds insincere when people say that, but… we could."

"I don't know, Santana. I've made such a jackass of myself. If we start hanging out, every time I see you, it'll be like 'Oh, that's right. I'm a jackass.'"

"You're not a jackass." She shook her head. "Look, I'm sorry. I only moved here in April and I'm always working and I just haven't met a lot of good people so far. But I understand."

"Well, uh… maybe in a few months, after it's not so fresh, we could all, uh… you know, get a beer."

"That sounds good. I'll see you, Finn."

"Or, you know, we could go now." Finn remarked. "I'm guessing my friends are already at the bar."

Santana smiled.

"That sounds great..."