You guys are seriously wayyyy too kind :) I appreciate all of the comments and reviews more than you know! And I'm so glad the story is being well-received. The first 3 chapters were up so quickly because I had it all planned in my mind and knew exactly how I wanted to start. I think it's safe to say from now on updates will be a little slower, but I will do my best :)

P.S. I'm beyond happy some of you picked up the Skins reference ;) Effy Stonem is one of my favorite fictional characters ever, and I felt like acknowledging her! Though, I think we're gonna take a different approach on the subject matter than she does

Santana walked into the kitchen of the loft the next morning, thankful it was Saturday and she had neither school nor work. Her happiness was fleeting, though, because she was met with a sight she probably could have gone her entire life without seeing: Rachel Berry sitting at the kitchen table, a bright smile on her face. She began bouncing up and down in her seat when Santana entered the room and was met with a scowl.

"Berry, what the hell are you doing here? It's eleven o'clock in the morning, don't you have any better place to be?" Santana said as she tried to rub the remaining sleep from her eyes.

Rachel rolled her eyes and smirked. "Contrary to your belief Santana, not everything in my life revolves around performing. Only about 95% of it does. The other 5% is dedicated to the little people who are still trapped in my very large shadow…people like you." Santana could tell Rachel was making a joke and didn't actually mean it, but that didn't stop her temper from flaring—especially since it was so early in the day.

"Okay, listen here, Yentl, you may think you're some big, hotshot Broadway leading lady, but might I remind you that just last week the new doorman for your apartment building asked if you had lost your mommy. Watch your annoying ego, we wouldn't want it getting bigger than that thing you call a nose on your face," Santana snapped.

Rachel's jaw dropped in shock. "Alright, that was incredibly rude. I thought you and I had become some sort of friends. Or at least on that path." She looked at Santana with wide, innocent eyes and Santana started to get pissed with herself. She really had been working on cutting back the number of insults that found their way out of her mouth. Really, she had. It was just a lot harder than she expected.

Santana heaved a sigh and threaded her hands through her hair before taking a seat across from Rachel. "I'm sorry," she said, "You know how I get. I have rage, I go to the yelling place." Rachel nodded in acknowledgement and stared at Santana, apparently suddenly deep in thought about something.

A few moments slid by in silence until Santana realized she was sitting at her kitchen table with Rachel.

"Hold up," she began, and her eyes narrowed in suspicion, "Berry, how did you even get in here? I know for a fact I locked the door last night."

Rachel grinned as she stuck her hand in her pocket and fished around for something. A second later she held up a key to show Santana. "You never asked for mine back," she said happily with a shrug of her shoulders. Santana opened her mouth to respond with a snarky comment but Rachel didn't let her. "Why do you have rage? I mean, specifically today? Did something happen?"

Santana closed her mouth, taken off guard by Rachel's abrupt question. "What? No. No, I'm fine. I just…I'm fine." Rachel raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying Santana's words.

"Well, my original intention was to come over here and suggest we go to breakfast or get coffee or something, but now that I know something is bothering you, you might as well spill it," Rachel replied in a firm voice and she smiled proudly.

"Berry, I swear to you-"

"Come on, Santana. I know there's something bothering you. You haven't even tried to remove me from the loft by force! Normally you would have quite literally dragged me out by now. I get it, you're Santana Lopez, you're not supposed to be bothered by anything. You go through life pretending you're above feelings, pretending you don't have a heart. But you forget I have now known you for almost 6 years—I know that's not true. And I'm not leaving until you tell me." Rachel sat back in her chair and crossed her arms.

Santana was momentarily stunned by Rachel's nerve and determination. Once the surprise wore away, she began to debate her options. This was Rachel Berry she was talking about; a person doesn't go to Rachel Berry to have a heart to heart conversation about possibly being on the brink of falling in love with a girl who most likely doesn't reciprocate the feelings.

Then again…bottling up her emotions almost never worked in Santana's favor. And since Santana and Quinn had gone their separate ways, again, less than 24 hours ago, Santana could think of nothing but her blonde friend and the way she felt when their bodies were touching, even if it was only for a few seconds. Maybe Rachel could talk her off the edge of this potentially very dangerous cliff. Fuck it, Santana thought to herself.

"I saw Quinn yesterday," she blurted out. Rachel looked astounded that Santana had essentially thrown her pride to the side and actually answered.

"Oh," she responded slowly, clearly confused. "Okay, but…why does that give you rage? It's just Quinn. Oh, God," she added, as if just realizing something. Her voice became faint as she brought a hand to her forehead, "You guys didn't get into another one of your fights, did you? Please tell me you two didn't end up slapping each other in a public place."

Santana rolled her eyes irritably. "Jesus, Berry, do you think we're back in high school or something? Damn. No, we didn't freaking slap each other in public. It has been years since we slapped each other, actually. Years," she repeated firmly and nodded her head in an attempt to signify the height of this accomplishment.

"Okay then seriously, Santana, you're going to have to do a much better job at explaining why seeing Quinn has sent you into a fit of rage. I'm clearly missing something here."

Santana suddenly slammed her fists down on the table in frustration, causing Rachel to flinch. She didn't want to be consumed by the thoughts of Quinn; she didn't want to be feeling this way about someone she had once tried to destroy and ruin just to get to the top of the food chain in high school; she didn't want to have a conversation where she divulged her feelings about Quinn; and she most definitely did not want to have that conversation with Rachel Berry.

But she didn't really see any other choice: she was consumed by thoughts of Quinn and she did feel something she never expected to feel for Quinn. And the girl sitting across from her, looking on with big, expectant eyes, made it a reality for Santana that she was indeed about to have this conversation with Rachel Berry. Even if she hated the situation with every fiber of her being.

"Quinn and I hooked up at Mr. Schue's wedding 3 years ago. Uhh...the failure of a wedding, not the weird little thing they did after regionals. Obviously." Santana said it abruptly and quickly, not wanting to give herself a chance of backing out of admitting it. Though she knew Brittany was already at work at the dance studio she taught at, Santana glanced around the loft unreasonably to make sure she and Rachel were alone. She had never told Brittany what had happened between her and Quinn, and didn't feel like doing so anytime soon.

At first she thought Rachel had completely missed what she had said, but shock slowly spread across Rachel's features as the words registered with her. Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth slightly, but no words came out. Santana decided it would be best to let Rachel work through the information herself, and sat back in her chair until that happened.

"Wait…so you and Quinn…wait, what?" Rachel stammered finally, causing Santana to roll her eyes.

"Keep up, Berry. Quinn and I hooked up at that suck-fest Mr. Schue had the balls to call a wedding. It was just after the whole Brittany thing. I was pissed and sad and lonely and Quinn was there. We both had a lot to drink and just…hooked up. I don't know how to put it in simpler terms for you."

Rachel tilted her head to the side as if it would help her think more clearly about the confession Santana just made. She was silent for a long while until she eventually found her voice.

"So what?" she asked, and her voice was still laced with confusion.

"What do you mean, 'so what'?" Santana retorted. She was starting to get really irritated at Rachel's lack of help and understanding.

"It's just, you're Santana Lopez. You've slept with countless women since you and Brittany broke up all that time ago and they've never resulted in you stomping around and being all grumpy," Rachel said it as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Santana clenched her jaw in anger. "I was so not stomping around or being grumpy, Berry, so shut up."

Rachel chuckled slightly. "Right, because slamming your fists on the table is a tell-tale sign of a completely cheerful person," she returned with a smirk.

"Fine, whatever," Santana relented. "I was definitely not stomping, though." Rachel waved her hand dismissively.

"Sure, and my point is, why is Quinn making you act like this? I mean, it's been 3 years since you guys slept together! That's like, forever ago in Santana Lopez world. Unless…" Rachel trailed off with a gasp. She clasped her hands over her mouth.

"Don't!" Santana angrily interrupted, pointing a finger at Rachel. "Don't you dare say what I think you were about to say."

But Rachel pushed on with a huge grin, "Oh my God! You're in love with Quinn!" But as she said the words, her smile faded and dread and fear replaced the happiness. "Oh my God, you're in love with Quinn." Her voice was flat and distant now, the realization of the words finally hitting her. She was silent for a second as she thought about the situation before she continued, "Seriously, Santana, just the thought of you two being together is downright terrifying. You guys separately are forces to be reckoned with; but together? I think that's how World War III starts."

"Shut it, Hobbit! You have no idea what you're talking about. I am not in love with Quinn."

"Not yet anyway," Rachel muttered, and Santana had to suppress the urge to reach over and slap the girl clear across the face. She closed her eyes and clenched her hands into fists as they rested on the table.

"Berry…" Santana began menacingly, but Rachel cut her off.

"No, it's fine. This is actually really good! Frightening, yes, but good! You've never considered trying out an actual relationship with someone."

"She doesn't feel the same way," Santana deadpanned as she opened her eyes to glare at the girl facing her.

Rachel's face softened when she heard the trace of dejectedness in Santana's voice. "And how can you be so sure?"

Santana rolled her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. "Because it's been 3 years, Rachel. You said it yourself. She hasn't called me or texted me once since it happened. She didn't even tell me she moved to New York City, for God's sake! Clearly I've never crossed her mind."

"You don't know that!" Rachel exclaimed. "Maybe she didn't reach out to you for the same reasons you never called her."

Santana raised a questioning eyebrow at Rachel's assumption that she knew Santana's reasoning behind her hesitancy to contact Quinn. "Which are?" she asked.

"Fear. Embarrassment. The desire to keep things as they were. Not wanting to risk your friendship—even if it always has been some weird, intense, competitive thing between you two," Rachel answered in a gentle voice.

Santana huffed in response but said nothing. She begrudgingly admitted to herself that Rachel was right. Every single one of those reasons fueled her decision not to reach out to Quinn after they slept together. She couldn't deal with another rejection so soon after Brittany ditched her for the blonde Lisa Rinna. That itself was embarrassing enough. And, like Rachel said, things between Santana and Quinn had always been somewhat of a cutthroat rivalry, but at the end of the day they were there for each other, regardless of what had been said and done. They would have done practically anything for one another, even if neither of them was willing to admit it. The competitive aspect just kept things interesting between them.

"Wait, did you say she lives in the city now?" Rachel's voice snapped Santana backed to reality.

"Yeah, she told me yesterday. So what?" Santana didn't see the relevancy of where Quinn resided, considering nothing was probably going to come of it.

Rachel's eyes lit up with excitement. "Santana, this is great news! Now you can give this whole thing with her a chance! You have to call her. Ask her to go for coffee or lunch or something."

"There is nothing with her," Santana responded through gritted teeth.

"You'll never know if you don't try," Rachel sing-songed.

Santana's desire to slap Rachel was at an all-time high; nevertheless, she dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand, directing the anger somewhere else.

"Call her. Right now," Rachel continued, much to Santana's dismay.

"What? Berry, are you insane? I'm not calling her. Especially not when you're sitting there looking at me with bug eyes." Santana shook her head, trying to end the conversation.

"If you don't do it when I'm here basically forcing you to, you never will. I know you, Santana. So let's go. Call her."

The two girls shot daggers from their eyes at one another with frowns in place, both waiting for the other one to succumb. While she stared Rachel down, Santana began to see just how right Rachel was. She hadn't really intended on calling Quinn; she didn't want to embarrass herself in front of her, and didn't want to make Quinn feel uncomfortable. But maybe Rachel had a point. It couldn't hurt to just call Quinn and suggest getting coffee. If Santana got in over her head she could always bail.

Finally, after several long minutes. Santana reached into the pocket of her pajama pants and pulled out her phone with a sigh. She scrolled down through her contacts until she found Quinn's name. With one last weary glance at Rachel, Santana pressed the CALL button. It rang for a few seconds, and Santana seriously considered simply hanging up and telling Rachel she had gotten her voicemail. But as she was about to do just that, a voice picked up on the other end of the line, making Santana's breath hitch.

"Hello?" the angelic voice said. Santana cleared her throat before replying.

"Uhh…Quinn, hi. It's Santana." She internally kicked herself for sounding so weak and lame.

"Yes, I know. Caller ID, remember?" Santana could hear the smile in Quinn's voice and it calmed her down a bit. Santana nodded to herself.

"Right, of course. Sorry about that."

Santana heard Quinn giggle and felt a familiar tug on her heart. "That's quite alright. Was there a specific reason you called? Or did you just miss my voice already?" Quinn teased.

Fuck yeah I missed your voice, Santana said to herself, You could persuade a freaking nun to get into bed with you with that fucking voice of yours.

"Nice try, Fabray," Santana finally found her confidence and wanted to put it to use. "Yeah, actually I was wondering if you wanted to go get coffee sometime?"

There was a slight pause on Quinn's end of the phone and Santana's pulse quickened as she began to think this was a bad idea. "I would absolutely love to get coffee with you," Quinn told her and Santana let out a breath she didn't even know she had been holding.

"Cool. How about…"

"Tomorrow morning?" Quinn interrupted. She tried to keep her voice calm and collected, but Santana thought she could sense excitement underneath.

"Tomorrow morning, Blondie, you got it. I know a great place in lower Manhattan. I'll text you the address."

"It's a date. See you tomorrow," Quinn responded softly. Santana barely had time to wrap her mind around the words before Quinn hung up. She placed her phone on the table and glanced at Rachel—who she had somewhat forgotten about during her conversation with Quinn.

"Well…" Rachel started cautiously, "that seemed to go pretty well."

Santana nodded in reply. "Yup. No big deal. It's nothing, Rachel. I swear." Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Whatever you say, Miss Lopez. But," she said as she stood up and threw her purse over her shoulder, "I do have to be leaving now. I have rehearsal in a few hours, and I do believe I need some rest after dealing with your senseless drama."

"You're just asking me to hit you, Berry," Santana threatened.

Rachel just chuckled and started heading for the door. "Let me know how your date goes!" she called over her shoulder.

"It's not a date!" Santana shouted, but it had no effect as the door was already shut and Rachel was gone.

Santana made her way back to her room to get dressed. She glanced at the clock on her nightstand and was surprised it was already after one o'clock. As she began rifling through her closet her thoughts again turned to a particular blonde haired, hazel eyed beauty.

Though she genuinely appreciated Rachel's actions and intentions, Santana knew nothing was going to come out of this thing with Quinn. It was Quinn for God's sake. They had slept together once, 3 years ago. Rachel was right about one thing: that was like forever ago. And they hadn't talked since then until just yesterday. There's no way she felt the same way about Santana.

And yet, Santana couldn't help but think of that one night she spent with Quinn with years ago. It was different, it was special. On a basic level, it had just felt right. Santana didn't regret for a second sleeping with Quinn. She would do it again in a heartbeat if the opportunity presented itself. Down girl, she told herself, mimicking Quinn's words from the day before.

Though she longed to feel Quinn's skin against her own again, and though she wished with everything she had she could kiss Quinn whenever she wanted, Santana wasn't naïve. One night with someone can't make you fall in love with them, right? One random, drunken hookup shouldn't leave you pining for the person even 3 years later. Eventually, Santana got sick of all of the feelings and emotions flowing through her.

Santana Lopez didn't do feelings. Sure, maybe Brittany had opened her up a bit and helped her become a little less guarded, but ever since they broke up Santana's walls and defenses were higher than ever. Life was better without feelings. She liked it without feelings, and she was going to keep it that way.

As Santana pulled on a pair of black skinny jeans, a red tank top, and black heels she looked at the clock again. 1:30 P.M. Never too early for a little pre-gaming, she thought to herself. She walked out into the living area of the loft and towards the front door, grabbing her leather jacket off of the hook beside it on the way. She was Santana Lopez, and she was going to do what Santana Lopez does best when she wants to numb her thoughts and emotions: alcohol and sex.