Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or the concept for X-Factor. Just borrowing!
Brittany's POV
Your heart starts to pound in your chest as you see her hand outstretched towards you. You notice her perfectly manicured grey nails. Short and rounded. Reaching just to the tops of her fingers.
You're surprised, she seems more like a bright red kind of girl, but then again she is the least bit predictable. Like that apology. Santana Lopez did not strike you as the girl that apologized for being herself. You see her brown eyes soften as your reach out to connect your hands, and she grins, pulling you through the bar and out into the lobby of the hotel. There is a fire connecting your fingers, though the handhold is platonic and strictly for guiding purposes, you wonder if Santana feels like the same electricity you do. You don't know where she is headed and all of sudden she turns to the elevators. You start to panic. Is she going to bring you up to her room? Does she think this is just some kind of chance for a hook up? You've heard rumors about her, hoping they weren't true, but her actions say otherwise.
"Santana, wait…" You drop her hand and all of a sudden feel cold. She turns slightly to you, cocks her head and gives you a comforting smile.
"Trust me."
You take a deep breath, and for some reason you nod. There is something about how her eyes change into a warmer brown when she looks at you. She presses the up elevator button and when the doors open she grabs your arm, and pulls you in. She presses two buttons, one for the pool and one for the top floor. You look at her questioningly. She just giggles and winks at you. You ride in comfortable, yet uncomfortable silence. Standing shoulder to shoulder, not touching, but close enough to feel each other's presence. You wrack your brain for an interesting topic of conversation, but every time you start to say something you can't get the words out. You have never been this nervous in front of another human being. You don't think you have ever been in a slower elevator. When the doors open for the pool, she hands you the bottle and glasses, "Be right back."
Like a flash she leaves. You take a deep breath, and stick your foot between the doors so they won't close. Come on, Pierce, pull it together you think. You have been around pretty girls before, you've been friends with pretty girls before. This is nothing different. She just wants to be your friend. For some reason the word friend sits sharply on your mind. Friend. Friends with Santana Lopez. For some reason the word friend didn't feel right.
You hear the sound of heels clacking quickly down the hall, and then you see Santana whipping into the elevator breathing heavily, hands behind her back.
"What was with the pit stop?" You question as the doors close once again.
She pulls colored pool rings out from behind her back. These rings look just like the ones you and Aubrey would drive for in your pool back at home. Each color representing a different point value. Your dad would hide the rings in the pool while you and Aubrey closed your eyes and counted to 100. Aubrey always got a 30 second head start because she was not as strong of a swimmer as you were, and you were 8 years older. You always let her win and your dad always hugged you a little tighter for it. You smile fondly at the memory, but then look at Santana with confusion in your eyes. She smiles again, bigger than she had all night.
"You'll see."
The doors open and again Santana is grabbing your hand and pulling you behind her. You take a moment to enjoy the view. Her cream colored dress hitting just below her butt, leaving little to the imagination. She paired the dress with a pair brown suede pumps that elongate her legs. You notice a tattoo peeking out on her foot and you wonder what it is, and if she has more. All of a sudden she stops and you slam into her back.
UMPH. "Oh my god, I am so sorry! Are you okay?" You cry out to her as you mentally face palm yourself for getting so distracting by her ass and legs you almost bowl her over.
Santana giggles, "It's okay, glad you were enjoying the view."
You feel your cheeks heat up, as Santana reaches into the cleavage of her dress to retrieve a key card. You cheeks only heat up more. The most casual of things she did you found undeniably sexy. You notice the door in front of you is marked STAFF ONLY. Santana looks up and down the hall, and quickly she slides the key card in and out. The door opens up to a short stairwell leading to another door. Santana leads you up the short stairwell, and pushes open the door. It opens upon a rooftop and from there you can see all of LA.
"Wow" you breathe, as Santana places down the rings and takes the champagne and glasses from you. "This is beautiful." The rooftop is probably 10 feet by 10 feet, with a few plants and chairs scattered about. It clearly serves as a "break room" for the employees of the hotel.
"Let's get this party started" the Latina says as she pops the cork on the bottle of champagne.
Santana's POV
"I decided the best way to get to know each other would be by playing a little game, plus it was way too loud down in the bar to have a real conversation" you say to the blonde as she takes in the sites of the city. You found this small oasis earlier when you were trying to escape from your most recent hook up. All it took was a little convincing of the bellboy, and by convincing you mean overt flirting, and he handed over his keycard. You pour Brittany a glass of champagne and one for yourself and place the bottle down on the ground.
"Now this won't be the boring twenty questions game. Instead, we will get to know each other through secrets and confessions... praise Usher" you cross your heart and kiss your hand before continuing. The blonde giggles at your lame joke. " because what better way to become friends than revealing our inner most self." You were surprised at the words coming out of your mouth. Rarely were you one to share secrets, usually you were the one clamming up and turning inward. But there was something about this particular blue eyed blonde that made you feel safe, and you figure the more open you were with her, the more open she would be for you. "I call this Santana Lopez's Secret Telling Ring Toss. The bottle will serve as our target and the pool rings our, well, rings."
Brittany smiles as you continue explaining the rules, "Each round you get to throw one ring, for each ring that lands on the bottle the other person needs to tell a secret. The further away you stand, the bigger the secret has to be. For example, if I stand here right next to the bottle and toss a ring the secret can be as small as I bite my nails, but if I back all the way up to here," you slowly move past the blonde making sure you rub shoulders as you make your way to the far edge of the rooftop "the secret can be as big as I have killed a man. Secret keepers discretion is in play. Every time you miss a toss, you drink. I figured one bottle is enough seeing as I had quite a few downstairs, and we both fly tomorrow."
You look up at Brittany whose blue eyes almost glow in the moon light, she doesn't say anything and you worry she thinks this is a stupid idea. You are about to suggest something else when she speaks.
"Can I start?" she asks quietly.
"Step right up."
Twenty minutes later, and many sips of champagne – it seems both of you needed to get more warmed up - the rings start falling on the bottle more regularly.
"Yes!" the blonde calls out, you glance over and see her with her hands over her head in celebration. Her sheer tank top rides up a little bit, and you see more of her already exposed mid section. The muscles of her stomach ripple as she dances around, and you slowly lick your lips. "Alright, Lopez, this better be a good one. I am at least 15 feet from the bottle."
You smile wryly. So far the secrets have ranged from I used to kiss my Christina Aguilera poster each night before bed (she asked if I have always had a thing for blondes) to my favorite color is really purple, but I tell everyone it's black for effect. I found out her favorite animal was a duck, but not to tell her cat. And that she had an irrational fear of oceans. You knew she was born and raised in Lima, Ohio and she found out about your Chicago roots. Nothing too serious, but still enough incentive to keep going. The secrets slowly turned into confessions, things you would open up about weeks, months or years into a friendship.
You exhale and decide to let her in a little more, "You know how most people say they knew they were gay in high school, maybe middle school? When everyone else is talking about how cute boys are, you notice the finer qualities of girls?" Brittany just nodded, as she walked towards you to join you at the ledge looking out over the city. "Well, I knew well before that time. I was 6 years old and it was Halloween. I begged my parents to let me be Uncle Jesse from Full House, and I wanted to go all out. Hair cut and everything."
Brittany laughs and it sounds like angels, "I bet you looked adorable with a little mullet." She says and turns to you and slowly brushes some hair from your face. Her eyes grow wide, as if she just realizes what she was doing. Quickly, she pulls her hand away from your face and looks back out to the city. She urges you to carry on with her silence and then her eyes, when she looks at you it looks like she actually sees you, not who you are trying to be.
"I told my parents that my costume wasn't complete unless someone came as Becky. So, I asked my best friend at the time, her name was Lacey, if she wanted to be the Becky to my Jesse. Long story short she thought it was icky for a girl and a girl to play a married couple. She said I couldn't go as a boy. Her mommy said it wasn't right for little girls to pretend to be married to other little girls. I guess to me it didn't feel icky, it felt right."
Brittany's POV
The Latina exhales as she continues telling you her story. You watch her as if you actually see her walls coming down. Though the secret game was her idea, you can tell she has been hesitant to really open up, and she would freeze when you would toss a ring from outside the zone of "comfortable secrets". You try to lift the tension surrounding the game, because quite honestly, you have never felt this comfortable around someone that you just met. There is just something about Santana...
"Knowing I was gay or was me from age 6 isn't my secret" Santana breathes, "The secret is, well no matter how I act with girls, or how nonchalant I seem about being in a relationship the truth is I really want to find my Becky. I just find myself unlovable. I don't really think I am worth that."
Through the corner of your eye, you see Santana's hands gripping the edge of the wall, her knuckles whitening. This confession clearly wasn't easy for her, "Hey" you reach out to her and turn her shoulders so they are facing you and you wait for her eyes to find yours, "your Becky is out there. You just need to let people see your inner Jesse." Slowly her frown eases, and her eyes soften.
"Okay, your turn to toss" you say, handing her the blue ring.
Santana takes a final pull from her champagne flute, grabs the ring from you and faces the bottle. "Ugh she says, I am too tired, too tipsy and too lazy to move any closer. This isn't even going to be close." The champagne bottle stands about 20 feet from where she stands, the furthest she had hit all night was about ten feet causing you to share tales about your first kiss, first time with a girl, the time you got shop lifting trying to get Lord Tubbington diet pills. Santana casually tosses the ring in the direction of the bottle, and turns to check the time on her phone.
CLANK. The ring hits the top of the bottle, causing it to fly up in the air. As if it were a magnet, the ring shoots straight back down, rattling around the neck of the bottle. "Fuck" you breathe. That was the furthest toss of the night and the champagne had run dry, meaning you were left with the last and the biggest confession of the night. Santana is beaming and celebrating her long shot with a victory dance.
As she circles around you, shuffling her feet and stabbing at the air with her right hand you wonder how all of a sudden this sexy, mysterious girl turns into the biggest dork. You laugh and grab her hand and pull her over to sit with you on one of the chaise lounge set up on the rooftop.
She waits patiently for you to begin your story, as you slowly start wringing your hands and try to start "Um, so… about 6 years ago, um, well…" you feel the bitter sting of tears begin to cloud your eyes, and your voice starts to tremble. You feel Santana shift back on the chair and lay down.
"Britt, relax" she whispers as pulling you by your elbow so you're laying next to her. "Take your time. If it's too much, you don't have to tell me" She slowly starts running her fingers up and down the inside of your arm, waiting for you to continue.
You aren't sure how long it is before you speak again. The only measure of time is the sound of your beating heart, that slowly but surely started racing to the pace of Santana's hand. "Well, my dad lost his job, and things got bad quickly. We had to move out of our house into this apartment on the bad side of town. It only had one bedroom, so my sister and I had to convert the living room into a shared bedroom. My parents started arguing more and more about money and expenses. Most of it concerning by dance lessons and my dad's growing dependence on alcohol." You take a deep, shaky breath. Santana slowly rotates onto her hip so her body is facing you and her knees skim the outside of your leg. Her hand slowly moves up and starts lightly scratching your scalp. It was weird how something so intimate felt so normal.
"One night my dad was supposed to pick me up from my dance lessons. He was an hour late, and I was just sitting on the curb, telling my friends it was okay. I knew he wouldn't forget me. He finally showed up an hour and half late, the car reeking of alcohol. Stupidly, I got in. He sped off the curb, driving all over the road. I kept asking him to slow down and pull over…" Your breathing started to become erratic, and you felt yourself begin to hyperventilate trying to avoid the memory…
Flashback
"DAD! Please, stop! Pull over. I will call mom, she can come get us!" You scream hoping he relents.
"Shut up, you stupid little girl. I can handle driving you home from your damn dance lessons that cost me a fucking fortune. What a fucking waste of money those are!" he shouts back at you as he swerves all over the road. "What you think you're going to become some big dancer. HAH! No one with brains would waste their time on a dim wit like you."
The tears pour down your face as he continues to scream at you, all of a sudden head lights glare through the windshield. You scream and grab the wheel and yank it to the right, trying to avoid the collision. The next thing you know the car is flying through the air, only stopping once slamming into a tree.
End Flashback
"That was the last day I ever went to dance class, and the last time I ever saw my dad. I walked away without a scratch. It's just my mom, my little sister Aubrey and me now. I had to quit dance lessons to help my mom pay the bills, so I started working at the convenience store down the street. I barely graduated from high school. I continued to dance on my own and in the glee club, but nothing formal because I don't have the time. I really need this show to get seen. I have an offer from Julliard but the scholarship doesn't cover the cost of living, and without more money or a bigger scholarship, I won't be able to afford it."
Santana is quiet, "Wow, I am such a bitch" she sits up grabbing the bridge of her nose and turning to you, "The way I was talking earlier about the show and about winning, I am so sorry Britt, I had no idea."
"Hey" you sit up and put a hand on her shoulder "You didn't know, it's okay. You listening to me is more than enough. Please, don't be sorry. Look at me now. It's all okay."
She smiles shyly at you and reaches down to look at her phone, "Holy shit, it's already 3:30 in the morning, my flight leaves at 7. We should probably head downstairs."
She stands up and reaches down for your hand. You stand up and let her pull you back down the stairwell into the hotel.
When you reach the door to your room, you put your finger up to lips to remind her to be quiet just in case Tina was sleeping. You enter the room and see Tina's bed is empty, she must be staying with Mike. "So, this is me" you say sheepishly. "Look Santana, I had a lot of fun tonight. I've never opened up to someone like that, it just felt so natural and right. It was weird, wasn't it? I kind of don't want to sleep because I don't want to say goodbye to you" your cheeks heat up and you look down at the ground, "Sorry, that was stupid."
"Britt" she steps up and lifts your chin with her pointer finger "That was not stupid. I don't want to say goodbye either. Three months sounds even longer now…" she says quietly.
"Will you stay with me until you have to leave for the flight? I mean you can stay in Tina's bed. I just…I don't want to be alone."
"Of course" the Latina says, as she flops down on the bed and opens her arms to you. Slowly, without changing, you lay down next to her and become enveloped in everything Santana.
The next morning you wake up and roll over only to find an empty bed. You sit up and as your eyes adjust you notice a note left on the pillow that Santana once occupied.
Brittany,
I didn't want to wake you and I thought goodbye might be a little too tough. I will never forget last night. Thank you for being you. Hopefully this makes the next three months a little more bearable.
Underneath the message were 11 digits that you committed to memory immediately. The note was simply signed with a swoopy SL and an impression of her poutable lips in bright red lipstick.
You groan as you head hits your pillow. The next three months were going to be incredibly long.
Santana's POV
Just as you were putting your phone into airplane mode for the flight back to Chicago, a text from an unknown number popped up
Let the 90 day countdown begin. – BSP
AN: Hope you liked the new chapter! I do have more content that I can roll out. I just don't want to overload with daily updates, and then frustrate people when they start coming on a weekly/biweekly basis. I have been using this fic as an outlet for my frustration at work, so the words keep coming. If you want more, let me know!
SG
