Chapter 2: Fifteen
You found her when you were fifteen years old.
You're a sophomore in high school now, and if you thought seven was hard times, man, were you mistaken. Back then, the worst part of your day was helping your abuela mop the entire dance studio. Now, it's sitting through an entire Spanish class with a teacher who knows little to no actual Spanish.
You've also stopped dancing. Well, sort of. Once that light inside dimmed, your parents tried you out for gymnastics. Which brought you to where you are now, captain of the cheer team and overall HBIC. Also long gone are the days of insecurities, you've learned to build a protective shell around every fault. Sometimes though, you catch yourself thinking of dance again. How you were so determined to get better, all for her. For Brittany.
You figured it all out, by the way. The pull. You figured it out when you were thirteen and you received a kiss from another cheerleader during a game of spin the bottle. It felt as if a flip switched inside of you. The power turned on and all of the lights came to life. You're attracted to girls. And Brittany, sweet blonde-haired blue-eyed Brittany, was your first real crush.
You're not exactly out, yet. Lima, Ohio isn't really the most welcoming to your kind, so you keep a lot of your personal life private. The whole secretly dating a cheerleader thing ran its course and eventually faded, but there's no hard feelings there. The girl may be at the bottom of the pyramid now, but that wasn't entirely your doing. It's not your fault she lashed out at Coach Sue after she broke down in the middle of a prep rally. Sure, she only broke down because you broke up with her, but still.
You just didn't feel the pull with her anymore. You felt it when she first kissed you, but even then, it wasn't the same. It wasn't as intense. It didn't encircle you in the same way as Brittany's did. It's sad, but even after all this time, you can't help but compare everything to her. She captivated you then. Completely. Eclipsing everything that comes your way and you let her.
And you've tried, tried, to search for her, but your abuela kept horrible records. There were so many books to look through and even then, you could find only parents' names listed. You had no last name to go by. Just Brittany.
Somedays, you actually wonder to yourself if you've made it all up in your mind. If you've somehow only imagined it, those eyes. At this point, you wouldn't put it past yourself to have developed a brain that would do such a thing so cruel to you. Like some sort of karmic payback.
So, you'd given up searching about a year ago. Instead, you leave it up to fate and the universe.
"Santana?" You open your eyes and Mrs. Pillsbury looks at you with a raised brow. "Did you hear any of what I just said?"
"Not really." You say as you shake your head.
"Were you just… sleeping?" She asks you with a sigh.
You shrug as you answer her, "Yeah, probably."
Her mouth opens slightly in disbelief as you yawn and stretch your arms above your head. "How could you have fallen asleep? I was barely talking for five minutes."
You yawn again and slouch further into your seat as you groan loudly. "Lady, you called me in from the hallway and told me you needed me to run an errand for you. You were about to tell me what to do when you saw a spot of god knows what at the edge of your desk. You've been mumble cleaning it for about," you glance at the clock above her, "thirty minutes."
"What!?" She spins around to check at the clock. "Oh my…"
You chuckle, "Yep."
"Why didn't you say anything, Santana?" She turns back to you and shoot her a look as if it's obvious.
"In what lame alternate reality would I ever pass up a free nap session just to sit in Spanish class and listen to your creepy husband ramble on?"
She doesn't seem fazed by the slight insult to Mr. Schue. If anything, you think you see her shrug lightly as if she were to agree with you. She sits back down and begins to straighten out the pile of papers in front of her. You smile at that and sink back further into your seat to find that comfortable position.
"No, No, No." Mrs. Pillsbury stops you and you groan again. "I won't be tricked a second time."
"There's maybe only fifteen more minutes of class," you try to beg, "Don't make me go. For some sick joke Mr. Schue paired me with JBI for our class assignments. Do you know what that's like? It's absolutely horrible. He stares at me the entire time. THE ENTIRE TIME."
"Relax, Santana. I'm not going to make you go back to class. I need you to run over to the auditorium." She says as she thumbs through some papers on her desk.
You sit up straight and begin to look at your nails. "Why? What's in the auditorium?"
She hands you a folder with some papers in it and you look them over. They're student transfer papers and a counselor evaluation form. You look back at her with a quirked eyebrow.
"Coach Sue requested for you to bring those to her." Mrs. Pillsbury tells you. "You should move quickly. You're already late."
"I can't believe she's just using me as a messenger. I'm the captain, not some lackey." You get up from your seat and scoff. "Being late technically isn't my fault so I'm taking the long way and I'm walking as slowly as I possibly can."
"That's fine, Santana." She waves you off once her eyes fixate on another spot on her desk.
You leave her office and make your way down the hall. You stop by the bathroom to grab a few paper napkins, wetting them first before shoving them into Rachel Berry's locker. You've known her locker combination for about two years now and she still doesn't know it's you that's doing it. You're pretty sure she thinks it's Fabray and that's just an added bonus.
You roam the corridors of the entire school, hall pass in hand from Mrs. Pillsbury, ready to fight off questions from any annoying teachers. Eventually though, you get bored, so you head to the auditorium. Since you went the long way around school, you enter from the audience doors, opposite the stage. When you walk in, you notice the lights aren't all on, save for the few pointing towards the stage. You don't see anyone. You think maybe Coach Sue might've left already, but then you hear them.
It's faint, but you can hear their voices just enough to follow the sounds with your eyes. You squint a little and find the backs of two blonde heads sitting in the front row, dead center. You recognize one of them as your coach and you roll your eyes. Great. Now you have to walk all the way to the front to deliver these to her.
You fall into step and slowly make your way down the auditorium. As you near, you begin to hear their conversation more clearly.
"You won't reconsider?" Sue asks, and the other blonde shakes her head.
"I'm sorry." The blonde sighs, "I know I gave you false hope by meeting with you here. But ultimately, it's not really up to me. My parents are kind of… particular."
Sue nods at that and you're actually surprised at how she's acting, it's not like her usual self. She's not being mean or degrading, it feels almost, warm.
"But I have a cannon that you would fit perfectly." Sue jokes, and it makes the girl beside her giggle.
The giggle. Your body reacts to it as soon as it reaches your ears. It ignites something within you and for the third time in your life, your legs stop working because of it. It can't be, can it? You're about 20 feet away and you allow your eyes linger. You can't see much because it's just the back of her head, but you think she could probably fit the right age. The blonde color of her hair might be a match too, but you don't know anymore. You don't trust yourself. It's been so long, and your imagination could have altered things.
You feel the nerves settle in slow and you shuffle your feet, a weak attempt to wake your legs. Your palms become clammy, and you try your best to discreetly wipe them along the sides of your Cheerios skirt. But your hands betray you as the folder slips from them and falls to the floor.
It doesn't take long for the two blondes to hear you stumble and turn around in their seats. You curse at yourself and quickly gather up the scattered papers.
"Sandbags!" Sue yells out and you pinch the bridge of your nose at the nickname. "Where the hell have you been? We've been waiting for you."
You stand then, slowly. When you're upright, your eyes flutter to the girl beside your coach and your breath catches. She's matured, but it's definitely her. Brittany. Your Brittany. Your blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl. Your eyes scan her features and commit them to memory immediately, not allowing even an inch of space to be taken over by imagination.
Because she's here. Twenty feet in front of you and you don't need to imagine anymore.
You step forward and remember who you are. You hold your composure and clear your throat, in an attempt to steel yourself. You need to play it cool. Her expression stays steady, and you wonder briefly if she's forgotten about you. The thought makes you ache, and you look for clues on her face in hopes of reading her, but there's nothing. No lip twitches, no soft eyes.
Her eyes, they follow you as you step closer, enchanting you, bringing you in. They've changed the most after all these years, but not in a bad way. They're deeper, and more… playful. Feisty. Catlike. They're harder to read.
When you finally stand before them, you have to tear your eyes away from Brittany to look at Sue. You hand Sue the folder and she scoffs, throwing it up in the air behind her.
Confused, you watch as the papers fall to the ground behind the two blondes. You're pretty sure you're going to have to pick those up later. "What the hell?"
"I don't need them anymore." Sue shrugs, "Britt isn't going to be transferring here anyways."
Your chest hammers at that thought. The transfer papers, they were for Brittany. The thought of being in the same vicinity as her five days a week makes your heart soar, but if what Sue said is true, that dream is already dead. Then you realize that all this time while you were nodding off in Mrs. Pillsbury's office, or roaming the halls, you could've been here. With Brittany. Your Brittany.
Fucking karmic universe. You really need to start being nicer to people. If only you'd shown up on time. Maybe you could've done something. You could've helped Sue convince her.
"If it were up to me, I would." Brittany speaks, her eyes are still planted firmly on yours. "You have a great program here. It sucks we'll be competing against each other at Nationals."
Your eyes widen. "You're a cheerleader." You say, not really as a question but more of a statement and she nods. She's a cheerleader and you're a cheerleader. It confuses you though because she's a dancer. At least she was. All these years, your imagined her to be on a dance team or something. "I pegged you as a dancer."
It's a slip and you immediately know it. You're almost horrified at yourself but then you see it. A small twitch. At the very corner of her lips and you know. You know she remembers you. She must. She's careful though because within a millisecond, it's gone, and it was effortless. Her expression for the most part, unfazed. She's good, but you caught it. You're smug, and you don't even try to hide it. You've successfully read her in that moment, and you're proudly wearing your small victory on your face. She can see it in your eyes, you're sure of it.
"I'm captain of both the cheer team and the dance team at my school." Her eyes narrow as she leans back in her chair and crosses one leg over the other, challenging you. At the movement, your eyes follow down her body and wow, her legs. The pull hits you like a truck but this time it's different, good different. She's already smirking when you find her eyes again, like she knows what she's doing to you. "Are you your team's errand girl?" Her head tilts just slightly enough for it to look like feigned innocence.
You blink, completely caught off guard. Sue's mouth opens in shock and even the sight of that throws you further. You stumble on your words because you can't process the change in emotion quickly enough. The way she sat back, with her legs, you felt so… but then she taunted you, and no one taunts you. You aren't quick enough to quip back and Brittany's smiling widely now, her playful eyes in full effect.
It only makes you fluster more because you don't know whether to feel grateful that you get to see that smile again, her full smile, or upset that it was at the expense of an insult, directed to you.
Brittany's phone rings, and the sound of it pulls you back to earth. Reluctantly, her eyes break away and she answers the call. You know it's her mother from the way the she answers. You look at Sue, trying to communicate non-verbally, your eyes screaming, what the hell was that?
Sue just laughs and shrugs because really, that's never happened to you before, and she knows it. No one puts you in your place. No one except Brittany, apparently. Your Brittany.
"My mom is almost here," Brittany stands, and so does Sue. "I'm sorry again. Good luck at Nationals."
"Thank you, Britt. Good luck to you, too." Sue looks between the two of you and nods, "Ladies." She says before making her exit.
You're still standing there, dumbfounded, when Brittany looks at you expectantly. You're not entirely sure what she wants so you wait. For her cue, you guess. After you don't move, her features soften, and she chuckles, shaking her head.
"Still stuck?" She jokes, and she pushes your shoulder a little, making you take a step back. "I'm sorry I was mean to you." She offers, and you manage to smile at that, grateful for the release in tension. Her soft smile is back and now that she's standing, you get the chance to take in all of her.
She's taller than you now. Back then, you were both about the same height, but now she's got a few inches on you. Her hair is still as radiant as it was before but now with bangs slightly sideswiped across her forehead. It's also let down, falling past her shoulders in waves. You've always wondered what she would look like with her hair let down, and now you know. She's absolutely stunning.
After all this time, "Where have you been?"
Brittany blushes and ducks her head, scuffing her foot slightly against the floor, making you realize you said that out loud. It came out as a whisper, but she definitely heard you. You know she did from her reaction and the way she murmurs your name bashfully in response. Santana. You've never noticed till now that all those years ago, you've never heard her say your name and now that she has, you'll never forget what it sounds like.
Her cheeks, they're painted with the faintest of pinks. A special shade that makes you smile because you know that you did that. You secretly wonder if what she feels is similar to yours. If it feels like a pull for her as well? If it vibrates through every cell of her being like it does yours?
Brittany's phone buzzes in her hand, indicating to you that her mother has probably arrived, and she looks at you apologetically. You don't hide your frown and Brittany giggles at you. Her giggle, you commit it to memory too.
You shift out of her way when she starts walking but when she moves past you, you reach for her hand to stop her. She's surprised at first, but then turns to you. You don't let go. You don't actually know what you were trying to do because it happened so fast and you couldn't just… You needed to know.
"Am I going to see you again?" Your eyes are frantically searching hers, and she smiles, squeezes your hand. She lightly rubs her thumb across the back of your hand, soothing you.
"Definitely." She says softly, "Promise me, you'll find me at Nationals."
You had almost forgot she'd be at Nationals. Sure, she'll be your competition, but you don't care about all that now. Because you found her. Brittany. Your Brittany. You finally found her, and you'll do everything you can to find her again.
"I promise I'll find you." You tell her, and her smile widens. You let go of her hand and you watch her leave the auditorium before moving to sit in one of the seats. You still can't believe it. Your childhood crush, an old flame, reignited.
Four months later and you're cursing at yourself for not getting Brittany's phone number when you had the chance. It was right in front of you, in her other hand, and you failed to exchange digits.
So here you are at Nationals, and you have no idea how you're going to find her. There are literally hundreds of cheerleaders here, there's no way you'll find yours. But then you realize it. Sue. Sue would know what school Brittany attends at least. She had to have known what school she was trying to poach Brittany from. You can't believe you didn't realize it sooner.
"Coach!" You yell as you run past your team and towards the front, falling into step with the older blonde. "Coach, I wanted to ask you something." You tell her, and she eyes you from the side, but continues to walk at a fast pace. "Remember that girl you were trying to get transferred to McKinley?" You have to pause to breathe because now you're basically jogging alongside her.
You're also carrying an extra 25 pounds of weights in your backpack per Sue's orders, the whole team is. You're not sure why Sue has you guys conditioning at all times, like right now on the walk to the registration tables. You glance back at the rest of your lot and they look like they're dying.
Sue turns around but continues her walking, now backwards, and raises the megaphone to her mouth, "Let's go ladies! You think winning this is going to be easy? Pick it up!" When she's done she turns back forward, and you continue.
"Her name is Brittany. I was wondering if you happen to remember what school she was from?" You breathe, and Sue suddenly stops, making you stumble slightly forward before you catch your balance. The others behind you fall to the ground and exhale in relief.
Sue lets you catch your breath as she opens her bag and rummages through her various items. She pulls out a letter that looks kind of worn, but still very much intact. "Took you long enough. All you had to do was ask." She says as she hands it to you and continues her brisk walk. You look at your team expectantly but when no movement is made, you yell at them to hurry it along.
When the last of your squad is up and running after Sue, you examine the note carefully. It's small and folded neatly, in a way that you know Sue hasn't made any attempt to open it. On the front, a little scribble of handwriting. Santana.
Your fingers graze over your own name and you already know who it's from. You wonder how long Sue has been carrying this around and why? You shake your head and smile at the piece of paper in your hands. It's funny because you can feel it, still. Not even in Brittany's presence, but it's there as you hold this letter, a letter that she wrote to you. The pull.
You open it carefully and your eyes dart across the page, taking in Brittany's handwritten letter.
Santana,
Do you believe in fate?
You asked me once to be your friend and I disappeared from you. I was never able to apologize to you for that. I also never got to thank you for trying to save me back then. To tell you the truth, because of you and what you did, it taught me to find the courage to start fighting for myself too. You'll be glad to know that I owe a lot of my feisty-ness to you.
Then, there you were in that auditorium, and I wasn't sure if you remembered. But you did, and you were so flustered I just couldn't help myself. I'm sorry for teasing you. I hope you weren't too mad at me afterwards.
Now, I find myself having to apologize for one more thing. I'm sorry but I won't be going to Nationals this year. I know I told you to look for me and here I go disappearing on you yet again, but this was never part the plan, I swear. There are some things that take more courage than I think I have.
I didn't want to make this long but I'm scared that this might be my last chance.
I need you to know that I feel it too. I felt it back then in my ballet flats and again in that auditorium. And I know you feel it too.
But you see, I also believe in fate. And the universe. And everything working out exactly how it's meant to be. And if this isn't meant to be, then at least with this letter, we'll both know that however fleeting this was, it was mutual.
I don't want you to look for me. I don't want you to wait for me. If it's meant to be, let it happen how it's supposed to happen.
Yours, Brittany
