Author's note: Thanks for all the positive comments on my last chapter, I'm glad you guys like the idea! This chapter is a bit longer and I'm getting more of a feel of where I'm going with this story! Continue being awesome, guys. Please review. Peace and love. xoxo
Chapter Two
"Good morning sunshine." Chastity murmured, a tray filled with breakfast food and coffee in her hands, and a grin on her lips. Her loose tank top and skimpy shorts didn't leave much to the imagination, and Santana wasn't sure which she was looking forward to more; the breakfast or getting her hands on her girlfriend's body. Chastity practically skipped over to the bed and somehow managed to jump on it without spilling one drop of the coffee she made for Santana, or the orange juice she always got for herself. "You are one talented lady." The Latina chuckled, giving Chastity a quick peck on the lips as the blonde placed the tray safely on the bed.
Chastity was a really good cook, despite finding recipes confusing. She mostly just threw things together and hoped for the best, somehow ending up with the tastiest meals. Not long after bringing over the tray, Santana had already engulfed all the bacon strips and the scrambled eggs the blonde had prepared.
"What's the plan for today?" The Latina smiled, leaning over to place another peck to the blonde's lips. She took the tray, putting it away on their bedside table and pulling the blonde closer to her. Brushing her fingertips along Chastity's arm, Santana smiled as she felt goose bumps following her touch. She hadn't been this happy in a really long time, and she owed it all to the dancer nestled in her arms. She was much taller than Santana, but right now, curled up in her arms, she felt tiny and vulnerable.
The blonde's head rose from Santana's chest, and Chastity looked her dead in the eye. The smile always painted on her face slowly turned into a smirk, but not of the good kind. She looked malicious, dark. Her eyes filled with fire as her face inched closer, her hot breath tickling Santana's lips. The Latina gulped, and her breath sped up despite her efforts to keep calm.
Closing her eyes, Chastity took a deep breath, and when she opened them up again, they were pitch black, a malevolent smile gracing her otherwise loving lips. "Surprise, bitch." The blonde spoke, but her voice wasn't her own. It was deeper, and Santana recognised it immediately. Sam's voice rumbled again from Chastity's throat and her hand rose high, coming down again with great speed as it made a loud connection with the Latina's caramel cheek.
"What the fuck?!" Santana exclaimed, raising to a sitting position, clutching her cheek where Chastity had slapped her. The brunette's face was covered in water, and as she looked over, neither Chastity nor Sam were present by her side. Confusion took over her facial features. Santana looked around her room, her palm still cupping the side of her face as her eyes landed on her father's figure holding an empty glass which contents now covered Santana and her bed; her frown deepened. "Papí?"
"Where have you been, Santana?" his voice was stern. Santana let go of her cheek and pulled her duvet up to her chin, covering her body. "You reek of alcohol."
Santana closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose and hanging her head. She could barely remember enough of last night to be able to answer her father's question. She remembered being at Strike Two, but much of what happened afterwards was a blur. She knew she didn't stick to just going straight home, she could feel last night's adventures in every aching part of her body.
Right after leaving the club and feeling much better about everything because of Chastity, Santana sat in her car at the back of the parking lot a little bit too long than she should have before leaving. Thoughts she would never let herself think otherwise came into her mind, and she spent a good twenty minutes panicking about and overthinking her life-to-be. Before she knew it, she was heading to the only club she knew would still be open at this time of night. She didn't waste time once she got there; she was somewhat of a regular ever since she found out about her arranged marriage. As soon as she walked into the club, she was greeted with grins and friendly hellos. The bartender was pretty much waiting with her usual order of shots, salt and lime. As if that wasn't enough to clear the Latina's mind, she managed to get invited to a house party straight after the last call at the club.
She couldn't remember how or what time she stumbled home, but she could feel the effects of last night now, and it wasn't a pretty picture. When the thought of having to marry Sam crossed her mind briefly, it gave her even more of a headache than she already had. "Holy fuck." She mumbled, rubbing her temples and pulling her duvet high over her head, hoping she could just hide from today.
"Language, Santana!" her father grumbled, pulling the covers off her body harshly. "Get out of bed and sober up. You have to start getting ready, and soon." His voice was harsh and she knew he wasn't kidding about. Santana hadn't exactly been easy going when it came to this topic, but she knew this day would come eventually and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it, no matter how hard she wished it. There wasn't a prince – or in her case, princess – on a white horse that would come and save her. She only had herself, and herself wasn't enough to stop this.
Slowly pushing herself off the bed, Santana stumbled once her feet touched the ground, having to steady herself on the wall. Today wasn't going to be easy, especially in the state she was in right now.
Hearing a loud bang of the door, the Latina knew her father had angrily left the house, probably to go on a drive and help clear his head of his horrible youngest daughter who 'had so much potential.' Not long after, three pairs of soft footsteps approached her door, and a tiny knock sounded. Sighing loudly and rubbing her eyes, Santana mumbled a quick "come in," before making her way to her en suite bathroom.
Managing the essentials, the Latina left the bathroom some time later feeling slightly better about herself. Her sisters and mother were sat on her bed, concerned looks taking over their faces. Apart from her father, her family understood the way Santana was taking the whole situation and were there for her, especially her sisters. Giving them a faint smile, Santana didn't have to explain anything else before her little team of helpers started getting everything ready for her 'big day.'
Before she knew it, Santana had taken a shower, her hair and make-up were done and she was in the midst of putting on her wedding dress.
"You look beautiful, baby…" the brunette's mother whispered, an underlining of a sad tone taking over her voice as she pulled a tissue out of a box and dabbed it at the corners of her eyes. She was ready for this wedding, in at least one sense of the word. Santana's sisters and mother approached her and gathered her in a group hug, tight enough for her to feel their love and support, yet soft enough to ensure the safety of her wedding dress. The Latina rolled her eyes and smiled faintly.
"Thank you, for everything." She murmured, looking at each of them in turn, kissing their cheeks. She owed them a lot; they might not have helped her escape the impending doom of her arranged marriage, but they were always there for her. They understood and always did what they could.
She could still feel the effects of last night but the pounding in her head had gotten weaker and less frequent. Short flash backs of last night kept popping into her mind, and she couldn't will them away. She didn't want to be thinking about Chastity, nor what the thought of marrying Sam makes her do. This was supposed to be the happiest day of her life; instead, she is getting a day she will always regret not fighting and one that makes her want to drink her weight in tequila. Ideal.
The wedding was fast. Or maybe it just seemed that way because Santana was pretty sure she blacked out through most of it, only being present enough to do what she was supposed to at the right time; the vowels, the I do's, exchange of rings and the dreaded newlyweds kiss. She remembered walking down the aisle and wishing she was walking down a plank that lead into a whirlpool of crocodiles. She remembered Sam's cologne being too powerful; like he was trying too hard. She remembered the roughness of his hands as he took hers and she remembered the stupid way in which a random strand of his hair kept falling into his eyes. He really needed a haircut.
They walked into their reception, hand in hand. They were greeted by smiling faces and applause, like marrying each other was some sort of achievement. Maybe for Sam, it was; there were many people of both genders that Santana knew wanted to be with her. She was a catch, and everyone knew that. Sam had done well. Her, on the other hand? This wasn't what she wanted at all.
In between all the eating and dancing that comes along with a wedding, somehow Santana managed to loosen up; she was stuck living this for the rest of her life, so she might as well enjoy the one day of what is about to come, during which she could drink and dance herself silly and no one would question it. A few more shots in, and it was Santana who was dragging the blonde boy into the middle of the dancefloor, making him swirl and twirl her around to the beat of a Latin song.
She could always tell that Sam loved her a lot; he always tried to make her happy, even after he realised that he probably wasn't what she was looking for in a partner. She didn't think he knew that she was gay, probably just thinking she didn't want to marry him because he was too nerdy, or because she was forced to. Bless his soul.
As the song changed to a slower pace, Sam wrapped his arms around the Latina's waist, pulling her closer, and for once, she didn't cringe at the idea. She followed his direction, gently laying her head on his shoulder. "You look so gorgeous and sexy tonight." Sam whispered into her ear, slowly sliding his hands to cup her ass cheeks. Santana gasped softly, swatting his hands away as quickly as she could, without drawing too much attention to what she had done. This she wasn't ready for.
It had been almost four months since she met Sam. They met back then to get to know each other; go on a few dates, everything arranged by their families. They were made to live with each other not long after that, just to "see what it's like". She knew it was her father's idea in order to get her to get used to living with him; maybe then she wouldn't protest so much. During those few months, he'd tried. Made moves on her, made romantic dinners and gestures… but she could never get through with it. The idea alone, of sleeping with a man, now that she accepted who she was, seemed absurd. She just couldn't do it.
"I'm sorry, Sam." She mumbled, taking a few steps back, feeling a slight pinch in her chest seeing the look on his face; confusion and hurt took over his usually cheery expression.
Turning on her heel, Santana ran out of the wedding hall and out of the building all together, needing some fresh air. Propping herself on one of the pillars outside, she took a couple deep breaths, feeling goose bumps rising on her skin as she got hit by a cold breeze. It felt good, it helped her clear her mind. Swiping away some dirt from one of the steps leading up to the main door, the Latina sat down, hid her face between her knees and tangled her fingers in her hair. Minutes past, and Santana slowly started trembling with the cold, but it wasn't enough to want to make her go back inside. She couldn't face everyone, especially Sam, knowing what he was probably expecting from tonight considering she was his new bride.
"You really shouldn't be sitting on these steps with no jacket… You'll catch a cold or worse, dirty your dress." A soft mumble came from the darkness ahead of Santana, and soon a figure came to light. A tall, blonde girl whom the Latina recognised immediately. She came closer, taking off her own coat and gently placing it on Santana's shoulders.
The Latina's eyes widened, still not believing it. "Chastity… what are you doing here?" she frowned, accepting the jacket against her better judgement.
"I saw your picture in the paper when Sugar was reading it this morning; she said you were getting married to a man, which confused me, because you came to a lebanese strip club and we had great sweet lady kisses. So I came to check it out." She shrugged, sitting next to Santana. "Is it true?"
Santana sighed, shaking her head. "You shouldn't have come here, Chastity. I can't be seeing you right now." She mumbled, beginning to shrug off the blonde's jacket. Being around her for even this short amount of time, especially today, hurt too much. It reminded her of everything she could possibly want, but would never get.
"Is it because you want more sweet lady kisses?" Chastity asked, and her sudden innocence threw Santana off. This wasn't the same girl she remembered from last night; the other girl was wild, and sexy and seductive until it hurt. This girl… she was sweet, and innocent and resembled an angel. Swallowing hard, the Latina didn't even have energy for a snide remark. She just shook her head again, placed the jacket back on Chastity's shoulders and started making her way up the stairs. "Goodbye, Chastity."
"It's Brittany." A soft voice came from behind her, making Santana momentarily slow her pace, turning her head to quickly glance at the blonde for an explanation. "My name's Brittany." The blonde said again, a little louder this time.
Giving her a small, sad smile, Santana nodded and turned back around, continuing up the stairs. "Goodbye, Brittany." She murmured, just loud enough for the blonde to hear, before making her way through the door and disappearing into the building.
Walking back into the wedding hall, Santana was dragged into a side chamber by her best friend Puck, as soon as she step foot in the room. "Where the hell have you been, San? Do you know how hard it is making up excuses for your disappearance and hitting on ladies all at the same time? You're weakening my game!" he exclaimed, but the grip he had on her arm loosened and he softly rubbed her shoulder. He was too much of a man to simply say he was worried about her. That was Puck's charm.
"I'm fine, Puckerman. Go back to hitting on the bridesmaids." She gave him a reassuring smile, pushing him into the general direction of the crowd. That wasn't something she wanted to discuss right now.
Knowing she needed to get involved in her wedding again, Santana grabbed a shot from the alcohol table, downed it quickly and enjoyed the burning in her throat as she made her way onto the dancefloor just as the band announced a bride/father and groom/mother dance. Perfect.
Santana was an expert at making fake smiles look natural. Wrapping her arms around her father's shoulders, she closed her eyes and rested her head against his shoulder; if there was one thing she could count on from him, it was that he would never fail leading a dance. The song they were dancing to, passed quicker than Santana would have thought, and as the next song came on, they were still slowly moving to the rhythm of the music. The Latina felt a disturbance in their calmness when her father lifted his head, surprised.
"May I cut in?" Brittany's voice echoed from behind his stern figure, and Santana could feel her throat close up. What the hell was she doing? Santana's father looked down on his daughter with slight surprise glinting in his eyes, but stepped away nonetheless.
Brittany's hands slipped around the Latina's waist, their gentle embrace pulling her in.
A small gasp left Santana's lips and for a moment she was literally breathless. "What… what are you doing, Cha- Brittany…? You know you can't be here. If anyone knew who you were…" she shook her head, unable to even fathom the consequences.
"I think you've made a mistake, Santana. I don't know your life, or who you are outside of that club, but… it just doesn't feel right. If it was, you'd be dancing with him right now, not me." She mumbled, slowly sliding her hands up the brunette's tiny waist, her touch electrifying, and Santana couldn't help but appreciate the difference of Brittany's hands in comparison to Sam's earlier. "Can we talk?" she whispered, her lips dangerously close to Santana's ear. The smaller girl swore she was losing the ability to think clearly by the second. Without much thought or realisation, the Latina nodded, grabbing Brittany's hand and pulling her towards the room which Puck had dragged her to before.
As soon as they were behind closed doors, Santana let out a long, deep breath. Rubbing her temples, she shook her head, looking at the blonde. "God, I can't be doing this!" Irritation and anger were suddenly taking over any other emotions she may have been feeling a few seconds before. "You can't just prance in here, telling me my life isn't what it should be! You met me yesterday, at a goddamn strip club! You know nothing about my life. Nothing." Santana's caramel cheeks turned a burgundy colour and her hands were flying about around her, gesturing her every word. "It's not right." She spoke sternly, her hands falling by her sides, turning into tiny, tight fists of anger.
Brittany didn't seem to be taking in much of what Santana was saying. Her eyes explored the Latina's body, and suddenly she felt naked under the blonde's glare. It made her body temperature rise, and right now she wasn't sure for what reasons.
"You're beautiful." She spoke simply, her voice the softest she'd heard say that compliment today.
Santana's hands loosened, her fingers twitching by her sides. Before she knew it, she was marching towards Brittany, her digits tangled in her blonde hair, her mouth attacking the dancer's lips. It was an angry kiss. Angry at Brittany for showing up here and showing her what she was missing, angry at her father for making her do this, angry at life for dealing her these cards. Her hands travelled down to the blonde's neck and her nails dragged along it as she forcefully pressed her against the wall.
"Trust me, this place is safe; no one will find us." A voice sounded awfully close, and before she could even partially remove herself from Brittany, Santana heard the door to the room opening, a sliver of light illuminating their pressed together bodies.
"San…? What the hell?!" Puck's voice took over the room, and at that moment, all Santana could do was close her eyes tightly and mindlessly punch the wall right besides Brittany's head.