AN: The lyrics that appear in this chapter are from Take Me On The Floor by The Veronicas.
"You lose, Puckerman!"
Santana grinned broadly when her score flashed in white across the television screen. She tossed aside the controller in her hands and pranced merrily around the living room, ruffling the boy's hair as she passed. Puck grumbled under his breath while she triumphantly crowed her achievement to an invisible audience.
"That's right, ladies and gentlemen; you were here to witness it. Noah the Xbox Extraordinaire has finally been bested! His previously unbroken record reigns no more. We have ourselves a new champion! What's her name? C'mon, let me hear you!"
She cupped her right hand to her ear and cocked her head.
"Santana Lopez! Aaaaah!" the fourteen-year-old rasped for the fictitious crowd.
Puck scowled. He twisted around on the floor to look up at her. Santana noticed his sullen expression and bent to cup his face in her palm.
"One lucky win isn't exactly an epic victory," the boy groused.
"Oh, poor baby," Santana purred before she kissed him lightly. "After I kick your ass a few more times, you won't be such a sore loser."
Incensed, Puck pushed off the floor and scooped the girl up in his arms. Santana shrieked and struggled against his grip. The two grappled with one another until they reached the couch and tumbled onto the cushions. Then their lips touched and all struggling ceased.
Santana shifted under the press of the other pre-teen's body which, though not heavy, was slightly uncomfortable atop her slender frame. She ran her hands through his dark hair and tugged teasingly at the fistful of curls. Puck grunted against her mouth and his sweaty palms held onto her hips. He started to ease her thighs apart with one leg. Suddenly apprehensive, Santana balked.
"Puck?" she murmured while pulling away from his kiss.
"What?" he snarled with annoyance. His eager fingers pushed up the bottom of her tank top. Puck caught a brief glimpse of the white bra beneath before Santana yanked the gray material back into place.
"Don't you think we're moving kinda fast? I mean, we're not even official."
Santana gave him a half coy, half cautious smile and waited to see how he would respond. Her query was met with the usual groan and eye roll. This was not the first time that she had dragged their friends-with-benefits status into the light.
"We've already talked about this."
"I know, I know, but things are different now. You're asking me for a lot more than our former agreement encompassed."
"Smaller words, baby, if you want me to follow you."
"I'm not giving up my virginity to someone who won't even call me their girlfriend," Santana blurted out bluntly. "There, is that simple enough for you?"
Puck sighed heavily and closed his eyes. When they opened again, he lowered his gaze to meet hers. His fingers played affectionately with the unruly brown waves that framed her face.
"It means that much to you?"
Santana bit her lip and nodded. There was a moment of tense silence while the boy debated his answer. He took a deep breath.
"Okay," Puck exhaled. "If that's what it takes for me to be with you, we can say that."
"We're a couple, then?"
"Yeah."
"And you'll quit going out with other girls?"
He winced before giving a reluctant bob of his head.
"No other girls. But, if that's the case, then no other guys for you!"
Santana snorted.
"Really, Noah. You're the only guy who's ever even looked at me."
It was an unfortunate truth. Her unmanageable mane, less-than-approachable demeanor, and complete lack of social standing had seen to that. Hopelessly average, Santana reflected with a rueful smile. Until Noah. Once he had taken an unexpected interest in her earlier that year, the general attitude towards Santana was one of respect, if not actual acceptance. The other students now kept their criticisms to a hushed whisper and they stopped their direct attacks on her person. All lingering judgments aside, for an unnoticeable girl with an uncommonly loud mouth, it was better than anything she would have dared to expect.
She arched her back to reach Puck's mouth once more, both to thank him for his compromise and to push back her unpleasant thoughts.
"So... um...," Puck began awkwardly. "How about now?"
Santana laughed.
"Not yet! Jeez. But soon, I promise."
They kissed again and their mutual moans of pleasure nearly drowned out the quiet sound of the key turning in the front latch. The door popped open a fraction and Santana jerked to the nearest end of the couch with a gasp. The two sat up as casually as they could and fixed their hair as Puck's mom entered the house.
"Hello," the woman greeted them with a smile. "Sorry I'm a little late. Did you guys have a good time?"
Santana felt her face growing hot as Puck responded to his mother's question.
"Yeah, we did. Santana beat my high score."
"Did she? Well, good for you, honey! Noah could stand to be knocked down a few pegs."
She winked and shuffled toward the kitchen, her arms laden with heavy groceries. She carefully set them down on the table and began removing the items that needed to be transferred to the freezer.
Puck got to his feet and followed her. Santana tugged self-consciously at her rumpled top and folded her hands across her lap.
"Let me just put these things away and then I'll drive you home," Mrs. Puckerman called in a muffled voice. Her upper body was leaning into the fridge while she scoured for sufficient space for the new goods.
"I'll help you," her son offered and then rummaged through the brown paper bags.
"Thank you, Noah," his mother said. "I certainly appreciate it, although I'm willing to bet this sudden change of heart has something to do with the Hot Pockets I promised you."
Her suspicion was confirmed as, right on cue, Puck pulled the box out with a triumphant "A-ha!"
Mrs. Puckerman shot Santana a conspiratorial glance and a crooked smile.
"We know him better than that, don't we, Santana?" she asked with a chuckle. "He's only willing to do as he's asked when he wants something."
... ... ...
The sound of her own measured breathing filled Santana's ears. Her arms remained crooked at her sides as she moved and her heart pounded out a steady rhythm. The monotony of the laps made it difficult for her to remember how close she was to finishing, so she ticked off the turns subtly on her fingers.
The track runners had to begin each meet by doing a dozen laps around the school, followed by a jog out to the local post office and back. Approximately an hour later, they returned to where they began to practice on the track itself. This portion of their exercises usually ran into the early evening. The only good thing about the time-consuming nature of their routine was that Santana was usually ready to go home right around the same time that Brittany finished practice for Dance Team.
Today was no exception. Just like she always did, Brittany sat in the grass a short distance away and watched patiently. Her blue eyes remained trained on Santana while her fingers wove garlands out of clover. A fleeting smile twitched up the corners of Brittany's lips each time their gazes met as Santana rounded the bend. When she wasn't busy checking the count of her laps, Santana twitched her hand in a brief wave to her friend.
Finally, Santana circled the track for the last time. She and her teammates did their cool-down stretches. Santana had to fight back a giggle when she noticed that Brittany was following along. Their coach blew her whistle loudly for dismissal and the girls dispersed.
"Are you ready to get out of here?" Santana helped Brittany to her feet.
Brittany nodded and smoothed out her pants. The two girls linked pinkies and strolled toward the front of the school. They got as far as the road without speaking, but it was a comfortable silence. It wasn't until they reached the end of the block that Brittany's forehead scrunched up in concern.
"You're quiet today," she remarked. "What's going on?"
"Hmm?" Santana asked, slowly surfacing from her thoughts.
"Is something wrong?"
"No," she replied. "Well, not wrong, just... different. Puck and I are officially dating now."
Brittany's eyebrows rose. She frowned slightly but didn't comment. Santana leaned around her to press the button at the crosswalk, glad for the excuse to break eye contact.
"So, that's a good thing, right?" Brittany hazarded tentatively while they crossed the intersection.
"Yeah, I guess. It's just that it came with a price."
Santana felt her friend's grip tighten instinctively on her pinky and she knew what Brittany must be thinking.
"Don't worry. I didn't do that. Not yet, at least. But he wants to."
"Of course he does," Brittany retorted. "He's a fourteen-year-old boy."
"Well, to be fair, we've been kind of together for almost five months now."
"And you're not married already?"
Santana nudged the other girl in the ribs.
"Seriously, Britt. We've gotten really close. It's not unreasonable now that we're both committed to this. It's not like he's the only one who wants to take things to the next level. He means so much to me. I think I might be ready."
Brittany dropped Santana's hand and wrapped both arms around herself. Santana studied her face anxiously, afraid of what judgment she might find there.
"What are you thinking?"
No response.
"Brittany?"
"Are you sure?" Brittany finally asked. She locked her soul-piercing gaze on the dark brown eyes that were watching her.
"I think so. No, more than that; I know so. This is what I want."
"All right." Brittany's smallest finger wound back around Santana's. "But just promise me something."
"What?"
"Be careful, okay? I don't want you to get hurt."
"I know, Britt-Britt. I promise. You don't have to worry, though. Puck loves me almost as much as you do. He'd never do anything to break my heart."
... ... ...
The opportunity presented itself near the end of that week. During third period on Thursday, Santana got a brief text filling her in on the current details.
Mom & sis r staying my cousin's house this weekend. I said I had 2 stay home 2 work on a project. Can u come?
She arranged to go directly to Brittany's house after school the following day under the pretense of spending the night there. Santana determined that, once darkness had fallen and she was fully prepared for the evening, she would walk the relatively short distance from the Pierces' house to the Puckermans'. She only hoped that she could make it that far without drawing unwanted attention to herself. It might prove difficult to be inconspicuous if she was well-dressed and wandering the sidewalks alone.
When Friday afternoon finally came, Santana completed the first step of her plan without incident. She went home with Brittany and, together, they set about tidying her appearance for the night ahead. Practice had left her hair frizzy and her skin sticky with sweat, so Santana decided to take a shower first.
The spray of water pelted lightly against her bronze skin and it was difficult to prevent the sensation from feeling like fleeting touches from fevered fingers. Santana's hand pressed against her abdomen as she looked self-consciously at her untouched body. The humble, still-growing curves - would they be enough? What about her face? What if some unattractive expression crossed it while she wasn't thinking and the moment was shattered? Experimentally, she slid one palm down to the inside of her thighs but, before it even neared its mark, her nerves got the better of her. She withdrew it and went back to rubbing soap around her shoulders, eager to get out of the tub and back into her clothes.
A handful of minutes later, Santana slipped into Brittany's room with one fluffy towel wrapped around her torso and another around her dripping hair. She carried her track uniform slung over one arm. Her friend was sitting on the bed with her back facing the door, but she turned when she heard someone enter. Brittany rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands. For a moment, Santana thought that she might have been crying. However, when a bright smile graced Brittany's features as she rose to her feet, the notion faded from Santana's consciousness.
"Are you ready for your makeover?" Brittany teased and gently punched her on the arm.
"I guess."
Santana sat in front of the vanity and tried to avoid making eye contact with her mirrored image while Brittany toweled out her heavy locks.
"What did you decide to wear tonight?" Brittany asked.
"I ended up going with that dress I bought a couple of weeks ago when you and I went to the mall," Santana told her.
Brittany nodded her approval. The royal blue material had fallen exactly as it should on Santana when they were in the fitting room. It accentuated her figure in all the right places. Santana knew she looked good in the dress, too, so she exuded a glowing confidence the minute she put it on. It was the perfect choice.
"What about... underneath?"
The question surprised Santana a little. She ducked her head as she replied.
"It's not much. I didn't have anything that really looked right, so I just packed something that had a little lace around the edges. Do you think it will be okay?"
"Yeah, it's fine," Brittany assured her. "I don't think you should've had to buy anything new. It's not like he'll be looking at it for that long anyway."
They both blushed at the implication and Santana hurriedly changed the subject.
"So, what are we going to do with my hair?"
"Well, I wanted something that wouldn't get ruined by the heat. I thought maybe I'd just brush it smooth and curl it under at the bottom."
"That works," Santana agreed with a shrug.
It felt so strange discussing these details in such an offhand manner, almost as if they were going to a party or a dance. At the back of her mind, Santana was aware that each minute brought her closer to a once-in-a-lifetime experience, but the idle chatter helped to calm the thundering of her pulse. However, there was one major difference in their conversation that nagged persistently at her gut. Unlike an ordinary social event, she would be facing this night alone. For the first time in ages, Santana would be going to a place where Brittany could not follow.
Brittany hummed tunelessly while she brushed Santana's hair. Her slender fingers held the strands close to Santana's scalp and prevented any tugs from causing her pain. Santana's palm came to rest on top of Brittany's and stilled its movement. She met Brittany's gaze in the reflection.
"Britt, I'm scared."
Brittany knelt beside the chair and looked directly into her eyes. There was nothing but sympathy written on her face.
"It's a big step."
"A huge step."
"Are you still sure you want to do this?"
Santana's bare shoulders rose and fell. Her lower lip began to tremble. Sensing the change in the weather, Brittany opened her arms wide just as Santana dropped off the seat and crashed into her. She stroked Santana's hair and shushed her comfortingly.
"There's just so much pressure, you know?" Santana wailed. "Especially for me. Puck's got it made because I can't compare him to anyone and I don't have any expectations. But I've got his freaking fantasies to live up to and I don't know if I can measure up."
She pressed her forehead against Brittany's clavicle and drew comfort from her friend's familiar perfume.
"I just want it to be special. I don't want to fail but I don't know what I'm doing. How the hell am I supposed to look sexy when I feel like I'm about to have a heart attack?"
"You're not going to have a heart attack and you're not going to fail," Brittany murmured next to her ear.
"How can you be sure?" Santana asked between hiccups.
"Because you love him," Brittany replied softly. "And if he doesn't know how special that makes this, or how lucky that means he is because you chose him, then he's an idiot."
Santana sobbed into her friend's neck. Brittany rocked her slowly and cradled the shaking girl in her arms. Her face remained etched with concern for Santana but she was blinking a great deal more than usual. She also seemed to be taking a keen interest in her room decorations.
When Santana's cries eventually quieted, Brittany smacked her butt through the towel and forced the girl to her feet.
"Come on," Brittany encouraged sweetly. "We don't want you to be late."
She finished working on Santana's hair and then fetched her bag from the corner. As Santana prepared to change, Brittany respectfully averted her eyes. Brittany saw the towel hit the floor and her friend's long legs bend one at a time when she slipped into her underwear. Next came the dual snaps of her bra being hitched into place. Then there was a brief rustling while the material of the dress slid over her body.
Brittany lifted her head and a shaky smile spread across her face. Santana looked stunning. She told her as much.
"You'll take his breath away," she assured her.
"I hope so," Santana exhaled through pursed lips. "It's almost time, isn't it?"
Brittany glanced first out the darkened window and then at the digital clock on her bedside table.
"Almost."
"I guess we'd better head downstairs, then."
Santana gathered the last of her things. She had opted to wear sneakers on the journey there and switch to a pair of black heels upon her arrival. Also, she decided to wear her track jacket over the dress in an attempt to mask the extravagance of her apparel until she reached her destination.
Side-by-side, the two friends crept down the steps with bated breath. None of the Pierce family stirred, however, and they reached the front door without any unexpected company. Santana turned to Brittany and threw her arms around the other girl's neck.
"Thank you so much," she said earnestly. "For everything."
"No problem," Brittany replied. "It's what friends do."
Santana tried to muster a brave smile.
"Well, here goes. I'll see you later."
She opened the door and stepped into the humid air. Her heels swung from the crooked fingers of her left hand as she walked and kept her head held high.
"Santana!" Brittany hissed from the doorway.
Santana's stride slowed and she turned back to face her friend. Brittany shifted her weight from one foot to the other and bit her lower lip.
"What?" Santana whispered.
"Nothing. Just... Good luck tonight," she told her.
"Thanks, Britt."
Brittany gave her a quick wink and a grin.
"Go get 'im."
... ... ...
The house was dark when she arrived. Santana hoped she wasn't too early. The coast seemed to be clear. She had set off ahead of time so she could make her way to the Puckermans' at a leisurely pace and prevent herself from working up a sweat. It was no good dressing to impress if you looked like you'd just finished a marathon.
When she reached the end of the front walk, Santana sat gingerly on the porch and switched her footwear. She removed her jacket and wrapped the sneakers in it. Once she had checked over her shoulders to verify that no one was watching, she tucked the bundle under a nearby bush and then strode up to the entrance. Her pulse quickened as she rang the bell and smoothed her outfit.
The door opened a moment later and there stood Puck. He didn't look at all the way she had expected. Somehow, Santana had thought he would come to the door in a wife beater and loose-fitting jeans - clothes selected for their easy removal. However, his torso was covered by a neatly-pressed green shirt and he also donned a pair of black slacks that looked suspiciously new. For just a moment, Santana's fear was driven back by her irrepressible fondness for this unpredictable boy. He was trying for her.
She looked up into his dark eyes and was both pleased and flattered to see the way he stared at her. Puck's mouth was slack and his fingers clung to the door handle for support. He took in her unbound hair and the flattering dress that seemed to almost glow in the moonlight.
"Wow," he whispered. "You look beautiful."
Santana bit her lip and tried her hardest not to let the compliment pierce her heart too deeply, but the words hit their mark. Puck realized he was still blocking the doorway and shuffled gawkily to one side.
"Here, come in."
Santana walked past him into the living room. She smiled as she noted a deep groove in one of the chairs and a bowl of cashews that had been nervously picked down to the last crumbs. Puck's hand pressed to the small of her back and led her farther into the house. He walked beside her, slightly hunched in his nervousness.
"Not on the couch," he clarified while they ascended the staircase and entered the upstairs hall. "I set something up back here."
They reached his bedroom. Puck turned the handle and swung the door wide before indicating that Santana should go first. The transformation he had given the space was incredible. In place of the brown sheets and tattered quilt that usually covered the bed, he had spread out a wine red silk. Several mismatched but pleasantly scented candles had been lit. The faint smell of Febreze indicated that he had tried to mask the unmistakable aromas inherent to the room of a pubescent male.
"It looks great, Noah."
"You think? I tried to clean up a bit," Puck said modestly.
"I love it."
"So, um, do you want to sit?"
They settled on opposite sides of the bed. Both clasped their hands in their laps, neither quite sure how they were supposed to begin.
"Are you hungry or thirsty at all?" Puck asked and started to stand, clearly eager to stall for time.
"No, thanks," Santana replied.
The boy settled back onto the mattress with a small frown. They both looked at each other and waited for the other to guide their actions.
"Now what happens?" Puck laughed when the silence had stretched out for several long minutes.
"I guess we just... start," Santana replied, and they both gulped nervously.
Moving in unison, they stooped over their respective sides of the bed and removed their shoes. The silk rustled as they slid onto the sheets and for some reason it seemed unnaturally loud. Every creak and groan of the springs left their limbs shaking harder than they already were.
Puck smiled sweetly and scooted closer to Santana. By degrees, he raised his hand to the side of her face. The boy's palm was comfortingly warm against Santana's cheek. Puck's lips pressed to hers and she allowed herself to relax into the familiar touch. The kiss grew longer and deeper as their fingers tangled in one another's hair. Santana felt the same hand that had touched her face push down to the strap of her dress. It fell off her shoulder easily and the other side soon followed suit. She shrugged out the rest of the way and set her own fingers to work on the buttons of Puck's shirt. The tremor in her hands made it difficult to accomplish the task but she managed. Santana slid the material back over Puck's broad shoulders and marveled at the toned muscles of his stomach and biceps.
He pressed their bodies together and enveloped her in his arms. They clung to each other for a moment before turning their attention to what remained of their clothing. Santana unbuckled and unzipped Puck's pants. He kicked them off his legs and onto the floor. Then Santana pushed herself a few inches off the bed so Puck could slide the dress past her waist. Puck kissed each inch of her leg as he trailed the fabric down to her feet. The last of his anxiety seemed to flee from him at the sight of her quivering body, minimally clad as it was in pure white lace.
From that moment on, Puck advanced in a thought-obliterating frenzy. Hunger outweighed hesitation and Santana was perpetually aware of his dominance over her. The pressure of the outside of his thighs against the inside of hers was a little frightening. Still, she recklessly threw herself into the act, matching him par-for-par. The sensation of their union was strange and far from tender, though not altogether unappealing.
When they had finished, Puck rolled back to his side of the bed and panted heavily. Sweat shimmered on his skin and his eyes were slightly glazed over as they roved across the ceiling above them. Santana felt instantly cold. She wriggled under the covers and tried to still her quaking limbs. Once they had both recovered, Puck turned onto his side and gazed at her.
Santana smiled feebly. The fingers of Puck's right hand slid over to intertwine with hers, while those of his left trailed back and forth across her brow.
"Thank you," he said earnestly. His warm breath tickled her neck and shoulder.
They kissed and Puck pulled the girl closer to rest her head on his chest. Santana listened to the sound of his heartbeat under her ear while Puck rubbed her bare back.
"Are you okay?" he murmured into her hair.
She nodded.
"You didn't bleed. I heard that sometimes girls do when it's their first time."
"Just lucky, I guess," she said while lightly trailing her index finger around his navel.
They lapsed into silence. Puck started humming to himself. Santana felt a jumble of questions crashing against one another in her mind but in the end only one made it to the tip of her tongue.
"Noah?"
"Hmm?"
"Are you happy?"
"Yeah, sure," he replied flippantly. "Why wouldn't I be? You know the funny thing, though? I'm starving. I think I'm gonna go in the kitchen and see what we have. Wait here."
Puck disengaged himself from her limbs and left the room. Santana watched him go with a lump in her throat. The chill returned and raised goosebumps on her flesh. She sat up, tucked her knees against her chest, and hugged them close the way she longed for him to still be holding her. More than anything, she wished she had brought her jacket inside. The cell phone in its left pocket seemed impossibly far away now. If she could just text Brittany, maybe she would know what to do.
The sound of clinking glass and the drag of a chair's legs across linoleum reached her ears. Apparently, Puck was settling in for the long haul. She rolled her eyes and reached over the side of the bed for her clothes. When she had dressed, Santana walked down to the kitchen to say good-bye.
She found her boyfriend seated in front of a three-layer sandwich and a glass of milk. His heels tapped against floor while he chewed contentedly. Santana's lip curled when she noted that he had not bothered to slip back into his boxers before leaving her. Puck's exposure did not appear to bother him; in fact, it seemed to have slipped his mind entirely. He stopped mid-bite when he noticed her watching him.
"You're leaving already?" Puck asked while he tucked the food to one side to speak.
"Yeah, I'd better be going," Santana replied. "I don't want to risk falling asleep here because I need to be at Brittany's house when her parents wake up in the morning."
"All right. That's cool. You sure you don't want me to walk you there or something?"
It was an empty offer and they both knew it. Santana shook her head.
"That's okay. I'll be fine. I'll see you at school on Monday, okay?"
Puck rose to his feet. He came over to where she stood and gave her a peck on the cheek.
"See you then."
Santana gave Puck a small wave and turned away. As she left the house, Santana could hear him opening a cabinet in search of chips. The door closed heavily behind her and she fumbled toward the bushes in the dark. After a moment of searching, she located the concealed bundle and withdrew it. Santana slipped on her more comfortable shoes and tugged the jacket over her arms. Then her hand flew to her pocket. She pulled the phone out and prepared to dial with trembling fingers.
However, before she could even mentally compose a message, Santana saw that something had been sent to her while she was still inside. It was from Brittany.
The door is already unlocked for you. I'll stay up until you get back.
They were just two brief sentences but Santana found her eyes suddenly swimming with tears. She set off for the Pierces' house straight away. Her hurried pace carried her there in half the time it took to leave only a couple of hours earlier. True to the text, the front door was not locked. Santana slipped into the house as quietly as she could and ascended the stairs.
When she swung Brittany's door open, Santana found her friend propped up in bed. Brittany had her headphones on and her i-Pod in one hand. The other rested atop the cell phone that was in her lap. When she saw Santana, Brittany tugged out her earbuds and studied the other girl closely.
"Hey," she whispered. "You're back early."
Santana kicked off her shoes and climbed in beside Brittany. She tugged the covers up to her neck and curled against her friend's body. Brittany rested her chin on the top of Santana's head.
"How did it go?" she asked gently.
Santana started sniffling and she found herself instantly wrapped in a warm embrace. She tugged at Brittany's shirt and stained it with her tears but was met with no complaints. Brittany simply kissed her forehead and hugged her tighter while kindly refraining from pushing for any details. Santana allowed herself to be rocked slowly into stillness and fell asleep in Brittany's arms.
… … …
"It's better now, Britt. Honestly, it is."
Brittany scooted some macaroni around her tray with a fork. She stabbed at a few of the noodles and popped them into her mouth. Across the table, Santana was trying to catch her eye but she avoided the gaze.
"I just don't get why," Brittany grumbled.
"I'm trying to make things work between us," Santana explained for the dozenth time. "He's still my boyfriend and I still care about him. Okay, so he didn't turn out to be the romantic type but what did I expect? He's a boy."
"I still think it's a mistake to keep giving him what he wants. He doesn't seem too concerned about what you want."
"You know I can't just cut him off now. He wouldn't understand. Besides, doing that makes him happy and... I don't know," Santana shrugged. "You get used to it."
"That's great. You should have that stitched on a pillow."
"Why are you being so pissy today?"
Brittany sucked up the last of her chocolate milk and declined to answer. She turned her azure eyes on her friend and folded her arms.
"Okay, fine," Santana snapped. "You want the truth of it? No sex equals no boyfriend. If I don't keep it up, he might leave me."
"How can you be sure he's not doing that already?" Brittany asked gently. "Just look at him now."
Santana turned around and watched Puck on the other side of the lunchroom. He was standing next to a table full of girls. The boy had one foot propped on the end of a bench and was leaning over the giggling teen closest to him.
"That's his lab partner," Santana explained dismissively. "They have a presentation at the end of this week. He has to talk to her."
"Yes, but does he have to have his crotch so close to her face?"
Santana's mouth twisted and she returned her attention to her food. She nibbled the end of a fry and drummed her fingernails against the table.
"Look, Santana, please don't be mad at me," Brittany begged. "I want you to be happy, really, I do. I just don't want you to settle because you think he's the best you'll ever have. He's not. You're so pretty and you're so smart. You deserve more than some guy who's only keeping you around because of what you'll do for him while he looks for someone new to... fill the position."
Santana blinked furiously and swallowed hard.
"He's not looking for anyone else," she insisted quietly. "He only wants me."
Brittany put her hand on top of Santana's and frowned. Her eyes were clouded while her thumb slowly rubbed the skin over her friend's knuckles.
"If you truly believe that," she said sadly. "Then love really is blind."
With that, Brittany took up her tray and left Santana alone with her thoughts.
... ... ...
"So, my track practice got canceled today."
Puck closed his locker to find Santana leaning against the other side of the door. As soon as she could see his face, the girl raised her eyebrows and smiled invitingly.
"Looks like my afternoon is wide open," Santana continued and studied his features for any twinkle of interest.
"That's cool," Puck responded while avoiding her eyes and walking toward his class.
"Any suggestions on how I should fill my schedule?" Santana asked before quickening her pace to match his.
"Not really. Maybe ask Brittany? You guys could hang out and watch a movie or something."
"Honestly, Puckerman, are you legitimately that obtuse or are you trying to play hard-to-get?"
"I only understood about half of that question, but I'm not playing anything," Puck replied. "I can't do stuff with you today. I've got that presentation to work on."
"With her?" Santana demanded. She crossed her arms over her chest.
"Yeah, I mean, she is my partner," Puck pointed out.
Santana harrumphed.
"In more ways than one," she mumbled under her breath.
"Come on, don't be like that," Puck protested as he stuck a pencil behind his ear. "We'll catch up some other time."
Santana continued to glare but Puck kissed her jaw and she found herself nodding begrudgingly. She watched him walk away and shook her head. As he vanished among the crowd, Santana's attention shifted to tracking down Brittany. She shouldered her way toward their adjacent lockers, hoping to find the other girl in a better mood than she'd been in at lunch, because right now she could really use a dose of her friend's incurable optimism.
... ... ...
Brittany was stepping into the hall after her fourth period class when she heard someone call her name. She was surprised to realize that, for a change, the voice was not Santana's. A familiar face appeared at her side and Brittany beamed.
"Hi, Mike!" she greeted warmly. "How are your new classes going?"
"Not as bad as they could be, I guess," Mike replied with a shrug. "I wish I had a few of them with you, though. You could show me the ropes."
Brittany snorted.
"I couldn't help you with any of that stuff. I get easily distracted and I'm not exactly the smartest student. Just ask anybody."
Brittany was so busy talking to her friend that she inadvertently ran into a boy walking in the opposite direction. He stumbled and almost dropped his books but regained his footing just in time to shoot her a parting scowl.
"Watch where you're going, moron!" he called after her.
The tips of Brittany's ears turned pink.
"See what I mean?" she asked and pushed a few strands of hair back from her face.
Mike frowned.
"You shouldn't let people talk to you like that."
Brittany shrugged.
"It doesn't bother you so much after a while," she said. "Besides, my friends don't call me that, and that's all that really counts, right?"
"I guess."
"Anyway, Santana is usually there to stick up for me, so most people don't say anything mean as long as she's around," Brittany told him in hope of easing Mike's concerned expression.
"Santana?"
"Santana Lopez. She's my best friend," Brittany explained.
"Isn't that the girl that's dating Noah Puckerman?" Mike asked.
Small lines appeared around Brittany's mouth as she pursed her lips and nodded.
"Yeah, that's her. How did you hear about that?"
"Some guys just mentioned her at the lunch table today, that's all."
Brittany blanched. What if Puck had started telling his buddies about his and Santana's… extracurricular activities?
"What did they say?" she asked cautiously.
Mike rubbed the back of his neck and looked away.
"Nah, you don't want to know, what with her being your best friend and all."
"That's exactly why I do want to know," she argued. "Please, tell me."
Mike sighed heavily.
"I don't remember the specifics but I kinda got the impression that maybe they don't really like her. They made it sound like she's sort of mean."
They had reached Brittany's locker by then and she set to work turning her lock clockwise before responding.
"A lot of people think that," Brittany murmured while she twiddled the knob the other direction for the next number. "She just doesn't let a lot of people get close to her, that's all. Especially not since her brother died."
"She had a brother?"
Brittany nodded.
"Tony," she said with a fleeting smile as she remembered. "He got killed in an accident while he was in the war. Santana doesn't even say his name anymore. I know she misses him, though; so do I. He was really nice."
"That's awful," Mike said sympathetically. "How old was he?"
"Twenty-three," Brittany replied and finally swung open the metal door to pull out the next stack of books she would need.
She didn't provide any further details about Santana's lost sibling and Mike politely refrained from asking any more questions. Still, Brittany worried her bottom lip between her teeth and hoped that she hadn't already said too much. She closed her locker and smiled apologetically.
"I'm sorry," she told Mike. "You seemed like you were having a kind of rough day and now I made it worse by talking about something sad. Why don't we change the subject?"
Brittany purposely brightened her features and nudged him good-naturedly with her elbow.
"So, do you want to hear a joke?"
... ... ...
When she rounded the corner, to her surprise, Santana saw that Brittany was not alone. A tall, thin Chinese boy was standing beside her and laughing while she animatedly told him a story. Santana drew a little closer, giving them their space but tapping her foot impatiently. Finally, the stranger walked away and Santana moved to take her place at Brittany's side. She twisted around to get another look at the boy's retreating back. Her brow knotted as she mentally confirmed that she had never seen him before that day.
"Who the hell was that?" Santana asked before she linked her arm with Brittany's.
"Mike Chang," Brittany replied. "He takes dance class with me. His family just moved here not too long ago. He's a pretty cool guy."
"He looks like a dork," Santana remarked with a sneer.
"You'd like him if you got to know him," Brittany said.
While she was sure that her friend wasn't looking, Brittany carefully tucked a torn piece of paper farther down into the front of her notebook, grateful that Santana hadn't noticed the seven digits scribbled there.
... ... ...
"This weekend is going to suck," Santana complained and sprawled across Brittany's bed.
She leaned back over the edge until her dark hair pooled on the carpet and the blood rushed to her head. Still upside down, her dark eyes remained trained on her friend's face in the mirror while Brittany worked the day's tangles out of her blonde locks.
"You'll be fine," Brittany insisted and set the brush aside.
"Puck's going to be with Finn and the rest of the team, and you're going to be out with this new boyfriend of yours…"
"He's not my boyfriend," Brittany corrected as she put her hair back into a ponytail. "Or, at least, neither one of us has called it that yet. I'm not really sure when you know. We just go to the arcade or rollerblading and stuff. It's like hanging out with a friend."
"Still, you're leaving me to pass the next two days with my family and you know how much I hate that."
Brittany finished her preparations and came over to join Santana on the bed. She flopped back until their heads were side-by-side and then turned to face her.
"I'm sorry," she said sincerely.
"You should be," Santana replied, trying to sulk.
Brittany held out her pinky and Santana accepted it with her own.
"Do you like him a lot?" Santana asked almost inaudibly. "Mike?"
Brittany shrugged.
"We do have a pretty good time," she admitted.
"I guess I could be okay with that," Santana surmised. "So long as you don't decide that you love him more than your best friend."
Brittany shifted closer and rested her head on the other girl's shoulder.
"You don't ever have to worry about that."
... ... ...
Brittany sat in the middle of the Changs' sofa and swung her long legs while she looked around the spacious living room.
"I still can't get over how big your house is, Mike!" she called to him when he went to get them something from the kitchen. "If there wasn't any furniture, you could totally play racquetball in here."
Mike chuckled and came back with their soft drinks. It was then that Brittany saw he was also carrying a small chocolate cupcake with a lit candle in it.
"What's that for?" Brittany asked as she accepted her soda.
"It's our three-month anniversary," Mike explained and set his own can aside to balance the cupcake on his palm. "Make a wish."
Brittany's face lit up with a warm smile and she clapped her hands excitedly.
"Wait, you have to make one, too!" she protested.
"Okay," Mike agreed with a grin, and he pressed his cheek to hers so they could blow out the candle at the same time. "Ready?"
"Mm-hmm."
"Three… two… one!" he counted, and they extinguished the flame with a single puff.
Mike removed the candle and set it on the coffee table. He then carefully tore the little cake into two equal halves and handed her one. They ate in silence for a moment while smiling at one another with their eyes.
"You look like a chipmunk," Brittany told him affectionately.
He gulped down the mouthful of cupcake and laughed.
"Yeah, and you've got a bit of a chocolate mustache there. Here, let me get it," Mike told her. He leaned in closer to rub the smudge away.
Brittany tried to hold still while Mike cleaned her face but her nerve endings felt like they were crackling with electricity. The boy's thumb stilled over her lip and she could tell that he was feeling it, too. On impulse, Mike cupped both sides of her face and pulled her in for a kiss.
Brittany sat paralyzed for a moment, unsure of how to react. Inhaling deeply as she gathered her courage, she hesitantly tried to reciprocate. It took a few seconds to get herself to relax but, once she did, Brittany decided that being close like this was kind of nice.
At last, the two broke apart and they laughed nervously. Brittany's face was pink while she smoothed her hair and tried to process what had just happened.
"So… The cupcake, the candle, the kiss… Does this mean that we're like an actual couple?" Brittany asked. "We're not just hanging out and stuff?"
"Yeah, I think that's usually how it works," Mike confirmed with a small smile. "The kissing part especially tends to help promote people to couple status."
Brittany nodded thoughtfully and polished off the last of her cupcake as she pondered.
"It's a shame you can't stay later," Mike lamented. "I know you and Santana have plans and everything, but it would have been nice to have longer to celebrate."
"I know," Brittany agreed. "But she's been spending so much time trying to patch up things with Puck. I've barely seen her since summer vacation began a couple of weeks ago and they started spending more time with each other. Plus, I've been so busy with lifeguarding that most of my afternoons are full. This is the first chance we've had to do something together since school let out and I don't want to let her down."
"I understand," Mike said and stole another quick kiss.
The blush was starting to creep back into Brittany's cheeks and it only deepened when she felt her phone vibrate in her back pocket. She held up a hand and flicked it open before quickly scanning the contents of the message on her screen. As she read, Brittany's heart sank.
Hey, Britt! I have to bail for today. Puck invited me to go camping with him! I'm sorry for canceling, but we'll catch up soon. Talk to you when I get back!
"Hey, Mike?"
"Yeah?"
"It looks like I can stay and celebrate with you after all," Brittany said.
She snapped the phone shut and restored it to her pocket. Then Brittany held Mike's hand and smiled.
"So, what did you have in mind?"
… … …
Santana supposed she had seen it coming from the start. She had tried to prepare herself for the news, to acknowledge that it was only a matter of time, but somehow that didn't make it any easier. When Brittany showed up on her doorstep on that humid day in July, she could tell straight away that something had happened.
"Hey," Brittany said softly as Santana opened the front door.
Santana stepped aside and let her visitor into the house. Rather than linger to exchange pleasantries in the entryway, Brittany walked immediately upstairs. Santana followed with a perplexed expression and waited until they were safely in her room with the door shut and locked before she asked for an explanation.
"You seem a little out of it, Britt," she remarked. "What's up?"
Brittany sat down heavily on the edge of her friend's bed and stared at a spot on the floor.
"We did it."
"Who did what?"
"Mike. Me. We did it."
Santana felt as if someone had plowed into her abdomen with a battering ram. She took a few quick steps over to the mattress and plunked down beside Brittany.
"When?" she finally asked once her dry mouth was able to form words again.
"It was today. We didn't plan it or anything, not like you and Puck. He invited me over to swim with him. We were just goofing around near the pool but then…"
Brittany shrugged.
"Did you… want to?" Santana verified.
"I guess," Brittany said while still staring into the middle distance. "I mean, it wasn't that I didn't want to. It was just kind of strange."
"What do you mean?"
Again Brittany's shoulders rose and fell.
"We talked about it and we think maybe we took things too far. We're just going to be friends now."
In spite of herself, Santana felt her spirits lift.
"You broke up?"
"Yeah, we did," Brittany murmured.
Her eyes finally focused and locked on Santana's.
"Does that mean I did something wrong?"
"No, I'm sure you didn't," Santana assured her kindly. "It just wasn't right between you. I mean, if neither of you enjoyed it, then it's probably for the best."
"But we did. I was always afraid it was going to be awful, especially after…," Brittany's voice trailed off and left out the part they never spoke of if it could be avoided. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. "But it wasn't. He was so nice and, actually, it was kind of… fun. It was just afterward that we felt weird about it."
Santana blinked in confusion. Fun?
"Can I ask you something?" Santana said.
Brittany nodded and her friend gently took both of the girl's hands in hers. Santana paused before she said any more, afraid to plant an idea in Brittany's head if it wasn't true.
"Do you know for certain that's really how he felt? Are you sure this wasn't what he was after this whole time? Because if he used you, I swear to God, I will hack off his genitals and feed them through the garbage disposal, the blender, and the paper shredder."
Brittany smiled at Santana's familiar protectiveness but shook her head.
"I'm sure," she insisted. "I think it actually upset him more than it bothered me. Mike apologized a lot when we talked and he almost looked like he wanted to cry. I think he felt bad because he was afraid I wouldn't want to speak to him anymore. I made sure he knew I wasn't mad. I mean, it's nobody's fault."
Santana stared in awe at her friend, amazed by how calm and collected she was. Brittany was handling the situation so rationally. Santana couldn't help but flash back to her own experience and what a mess she'd been when she arrived in Brittany's bedroom. She snuggled closer to Brittany and leaned their heads together.
"I'm sorry it didn't turn out to be very special."
"That's okay," Brittany murmured. "I mean, yours wasn't either, right?"
She wound her smallest finger around Santana's and sighed.
"We'll get it right eventually."
… … …
Brittany was just starting to reapply her sunscreen when she spotted Santana on the other side of the chain link fence. Her friend was hugging herself and pacing. Santana beckoned frantically as soon as she knew that she had caught the other girl's eye. Brittany signaled to her fellow lifeguard that she'd be back in five minutes, climbed down from her seat, and walked over to where Santana waited impatiently.
"What's wrong?" Brittany asked. She wound her fingers through the holes in the fence to brush against the hands that were clinging so desperately to the metal links.
"I did something bad," Santana told her. She chewed on her bottom lip while she struggled to regulate her voice. "Something really, really bad."
Brittany cast a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure no one else was within earshot. Then she turned back to her friend with concern.
"What happened?"
Santana sucked air through her pursed lips and tried to steady her nerves.
"I slept with someone other than Puck," she admitted.
Brittany blinked a few times but waited for her to explain further.
"We were at a party last night," Santana continued. "Puck kept flirting with everything female that moved and I just got really pissed off. Somebody brought drinks. I had no idea what they were because I'd never tried it before, but I had way too many. The next thing I knew, I was on my back in a truck bed with some guy I didn't even know by name."
She started to cry. The whimper that escaped her as she doubled over nearly broke her friend's heart. Brittany dashed toward the other lifeguard for a moment, called something up to him, and then ran through the entranceway and around the fence. She had the weeping girl in her arms before Santana had even properly registered that she was there. Brittany felt Santana's hands press tightly against her back and tears left a wet patch on the front of her suit.
"I mean, I guess I shouldn't feel guilty because I'm pretty sure Puck's been with at least a few other girls that he hasn't told me about," Santana reasoned while she continued out loud a conversation that she'd evidently been having inside her head. "But I do. It didn't even mean anything but I feel awful."
"It's going to be okay," Brittany assured her. "Have you talked to Puck about this yet?"
"No," Santana replied and a scowl twisted her features. "I haven't even seen the bastard since last night. For all I know, he might have slept his way through every person he hit on at that party and here I am beating myself up for just one."
Brittany rubbed Santana's back but did not voice her own opinions about that suspicion.
"I'm sorry," Santana said as she disengaged from their hug. "I'm going to get you in trouble at work. I'd better let you get back."
"That's all right," Brittany said. "I let Jeremy know that I needed to help you. He seemed totally fine with keeping an eye on things for a while. I think he kinda likes me."
Santana's eyebrows rose.
"You move on quickly!"
Brittany blushed and pushed her hair away from her eyes.
"I'm not 'moving on.' We're just talking."
Now it was Santana's turn to keep her thoughts to herself.
"I have a quick favor to ask," she said instead.
"What do you need?"
"Puck's throwing a party of his own this weekend and I'm really scared about how it's going to go. Will you come with me?"
... … …
Brittany had never had a drink before that night. Santana handed her the first cup and watched her face anxiously while she waited to see Brittany she would handle it. Her friend wrinkled her nose and peered down into the liquid after her first sip. It was hard to hear her over the loud music, but Santana was fairly certain she heard the other girl say something about it tasting like urine. Then Brittany tossed her head back and downed the rest of it as quickly as possible.
After that, Brittany gravitated toward the group of people dancing at the other end of the basement. She waved briefly to Santana before throwing herself into the throng. Santana smiled affectionately and was grateful to know Brittany was nearby if she was needed. She drank a cup of her own, quietly thought that her friend's assessment had been spot on, and went to find Puck.
The first couple of hours passed by without incident, but Santana tried to remain constantly conscious of where Brittany was among the crowd just in case something happened. Each time that she spotted her, Brittany had a new drink and a new dance partner. The night seemed to be going quite well for her, at least. Santana's own enjoyment of the party, however, was somewhat lacking. She found herself trapped on the armrest of a chair and forced to listen to Puck, his best friend Finn, and their buddies talk about sports for what seemed like an eternity. The more they drank, the more raucous and enthusiastic they became. Their slurred cheering and shouting began to grate on Santana's nerves.
She left their circle only occasionally to get herself more to drink. Santana was afraid to stay away for too long, lest her boyfriend develop a wandering eye while he was not under her watch. Still, she could only withstand so much athletic analysis. Eventually, Santana caved and decided to roam around for a bit on her own. So she tracked Brittany down and danced with her for a while for a change of pace.
Santana tried not to let it worry her when she saw how out of focus her friend's eyes were, or to be alarmed when she noticed how familiar Brittany was making herself with everyone in their general vicinity. After all, she had seen Brittany dance before, but never with as little personal space between herself and the other person as there was now. Countless boys flocked around her and tried to move close to her fluid form. Santana found her lip curling at the way many of them were looking at the other girl. Brittany was drawing such a crowd that it soon became difficult for Santana to stay close. When it got to be too much, she made her way back to the cluster of jocks she had abandoned just to get away from the uncomfortable press of bodies.
Puck's seat was empty.
"Finn!" Santana called over the thumping bass coming through a nearby speaker.
The dark haired boy turned to her and she gestured toward the vacant chair.
"Where did he go?"
She wouldn't swear to it, but Santana thought she saw a flicker of guilt cross Finn's face as he shrugged and looked away. With a snarl of frustration, she grabbed an abandoned cup on a nearby table. Santana drank its contents in one gulp before storming off through the other guests to find her boyfriend.
It did not take long. There, on a sofa in a darkened corner, she found the boy with his hand halfway up the shirt of some girl from the grade below theirs. Suddenly, Santana was looming over them both and Puck didn't even have time to separate his mouth from the stranger's to defend himself.
"Hey, dickhead," Santana growled and yanked on his hair to get his attention. "Care to tell me what the hell you're doing?"
The younger girl gasped and pulled away from the embrace before darting off as quickly as she could to avoid Santana's wrath. Puck sat up and rubbed the sore spot on his scalp where she had tugged, glaring.
"What is your problem?" he demanded.
"My problem is that you're a lying sack of crap," Santana retorted. "What happened to all that stuff about being exclusive? You were supposed to have stopped all this when you got with me."
"Well, that didn't exactly work out, did it?"
Santana shook her head sadly. Despite all her efforts to prevent them from falling, a few tears slid out the corners of her eyes when she spoke.
"Brittany was right. You've had one foot out the door all along. I can't believe I've been wasting so much time on such a jackass."
She turned and walked away from him, determined to find Brittany and get out of there before the situation could get any worse.
Except it already had.
When Santana finally spotted Brittany in the midst of everyone else jumping around to the current beat, she saw that the last of her friend's inhibitions had evidently flown at some point during her absence. Somewhere along the way, Brittany had removed her shirt. She was currently grinding against an unfamiliar boy and wearing only a bra on her otherwise bare torso. Santana stood dumbfounded as people they had never met before slid their hands across the other girl's back and stomach. They wound their arms around her and thrilled at how she moved closer rather than pushing them away. Through the daze of her temporary stupor, all that Santana could distinguish were the words to the song currently playing through the system.
Just take me on the floor.
I can give you more.
You kill me; you kill me; you kill me with your touch.
I wanna kiss a girl. I wanna kiss a girl. I wanna kiss a boy…
Santana shook herself to restore her focus and stumbled forward, eyes locked on her friend, as she elbowed past the other dancers. By the time the singer's shriek echoed through the speakers, she had pried Brittany from her flock of admirers and was yelling into her ear.
"Come on!" Santana instructed and urged her toward the stairs. "We're leaving."
Brittany followed with a confused expression and allowed herself to be pulled along until they were on the Puckermans' front lawn.
"Do you want to tell me what was going on in there?" Santana demanded and put her hands on her hips. "What did you think you were doing? And where the hell is your shirt?"
"What do you mean, what was I doing?" Brittany asked as she rubbed her arms against the chill. "I was just dancing."
"Are you kidding me? If I hadn't brought you out here just now, you'd have started some kind of orgy with half the guys in our class! Why were you letting them touch you like that?"
"We were just having fun…"
"There you go with that word again! Brittany, if you make it that easy, pretty soon that's all you're going to be to them. I can't just watch you throw yourself around that way."
Brittany stared at her unblinkingly for a few moments. Santana felt a rush of guilt as she saw that she had struck a nerve. She opened her mouth to apologize but then her friend finally spoke.
"I'm not throwing myself around," Brittany argued, speaking in measured tones to keep her voice level. "The only one I've ever slept with was Mike. I've just gotten better at being around boys, that's all. I don't understand; I thought this was a good thing. Ever since they started to see me this way, guys don't really say mean things to me anymore. I haven't had a single person call me dumb or stupid all summer."
"Yeah, but at what cost?" Santana demanded. "You shouldn't have to do those things just to get them to be nice to you."
Brittany pressed her palms against her pounding temples and grimaced.
"Okay, now I'm really confused. You're the one that's always acting like it's not a big deal. You've done it so many times you've lost count."
Nineteen, Santana thought silently. Including the drunken mistake, it's nineteen.
"You got used to sex with Puck, and that time with that other guy didn't mean anything. Why is it different if it's me?"
"Because you're special, damn it!" Santana replied with a stomp. "You're so fucking special. You're my best friend and I hate the thought of anyone touching you that doesn't care about you."
Unintentionally, Santana had vaguely alluded to the thing they agreed never to discuss. She held her breath and waited to see how Brittany would respond. Much to Santana's surprise, her friend did not appear upset. Instead, Brittany frowned thoughtfully and walked to where Santana stood. She grabbed one of the girl's hands and looked her in the eye.
"You're special, too," Brittany declared firmly. Santana had to turn away from the intense sincerity in her gaze. "You deserve better."
"Yeah, well, you're the only one that thinks so," Santana grumbled as warm drops spilled from her tearducts.
Brittany rubbed her friend's arm and gave her a small smile.
"Wait here for just a second," Brittany told her. "I'll be right back."
Santana nodded and went to sit on the curb until Brittany returned. When she reappeared, shirt restored to its place on her body, Brittany held out a hand to help Santana to her feet.
"C'mon," she said. "Let's go home."
Santana sniffled and nodded. Brittany tugged her close and draped an arm around both of her shoulders. Santana wrapped one of her own arms around her friend's waist and they slowly stumbled their way back to the Pierces' house by moonlight.
… … …
"So, tell me what happened," Brittany said once they were settled in her room.
The two girls were sprawled out across her bed and staring up at the ceiling as they conversed. Santana covered her eyes with her hands and sighed.
"It turns out you had Puck pegged," she responded. "I found him enjoying a run around the bases with some pre-pubescent pipsqueak that ran away the minute she saw me."
"I'm sorry," Brittany murmured earnestly. "I really didn't want to be right."
"I know," Santana replied. "Still, I'm glad I found out the truth. It looks like you're a much better judge of character than I am, except when it comes to me. You've always cut me way more slack than you should."
Brittany twisted onto her side and looked at her friend sadly.
"Why do you always say things like that? You're not as bad as you think."
"Tell that to the rest of the student population," Santana quipped and looked away.
Brittany hugged Santana's arm protectively.
"Well, I don't care what they say. You're a good person. Maybe, if you believed that, everyone else would see it, too."
Santana turned to look at her in amazement. Everything always sounded so simple and sweet when Brittany said it. Given the choice, she'd much rather live in that world than the one she actually inhabited.
"I wish everyone else could be like you," Santana told her.
Brittany smiled and pressed their foreheads together. Their eyes locked on one another's. Santana suddenly felt very acutely aware of how close Brittany's face was to hers. Without being certain of who made the first move – although she told herself later that they closed the gap simultaneously – Santana kissed her. The touch was fleeting at first but then it deepened as both girls realized that the other wasn't going to pull away.
Santana was the first to break the contact and, when she sat up, her hand flew over her mouth.
"Shit," she hissed. "Please forgive me, Britt. I didn't mean to. I don't know where that came from."
Brittany got up, too, and blinked twice before she shrugged and smiled.
"That's okay. I mean, it's not like it's the first time, right?"
Santana felt her face grow warm at Brittany's reference to what had happened between them more than a year ago, but the memory came back the moment the words were spoken.
It had started out as one of those silly games that girls play at parties. They were at the house of a vague acquaintance, sitting in a circle with a handful of their female classmates. The object of the game was to pass a small scrap of notebook paper around the ring of people using only their mouths.
Everyone was giggling nervously and fidgeting as the piece drew closer to them. When it was finally Brittany's turn, she carefully took the paper from the girl to her left, licking her own lips beforehand to make sure that it would stick. Santana, who had been wringing her hands ever since the beginning of the game, closed her eyes before she moved in to take hold of the scrap.
Neither of them noticed when the paper broke free from Brittany's mouth at the last minute and floated down into her lap. Their lips met, and Santana's eyes flew open in alarm. She found herself looking into Brittany's irises and was unsettled when she couldn't readily identify the emotion that she saw there. They pulled apart from each other almost immediately. Everyone laughed it off and continued the game but the two friends avoided looking directly at one another for the rest of the evening.
Now, as Santana watched the way that Brittany worried her lip between her teeth, she wondered if maybe she could give a name to what she had been feeling that night after all.
"I'm such a screw up," Santana wailed unhappily.
"No you're not," Brittany insisted. "In case you didn't notice, I kissed you back."
Santana realized that this was true. She tried in vain to form a verbal response to that fact but couldn't find the words. While she was still processing the information, her friend scooted close enough for their legs to touch. Santana felt a strange tingling shoot up her body from the spot, which only further unnerved her. She lifted her dark gaze to search Brittany's features and the burning look in the other girl's eyes held her transfixed. One of Brittany's hands lifted from her side and reached out to cup the back of Santana's head. For a breathless moment they paused, but then they kissed again and this time neither of them apologized.
In what seemed like only a moment, Santana was horizontal with Brittany sitting atop her thighs. Their mouths were still pressed against each other's and she could feel the moist touch of Brittany's tongue gently parting her lips. A thought seemed to occur to her friend then. Brittany guided them both to their feet and crossed the room backwards. She clumsily reached for the handle behind her and clicked the lock securely into place. Then she led Santana to the bed once more. Brittany kissed Santana every step of the way to the door and back, as if she feared giving her a second to think might shatter the moment.
They broke apart just long enough to unbuckle and kick off their jeans. The shockwave of skin against skin spurred them on even faster. Santana clawed at the back of Brittany's shirt with unspoken urgency. Brittany raised her arms and allowed herself to be stripped of the encumbering garment. Then they worked together to remove Santana's blouse as well. They tossed the unwanted article aside with the others piled on the floor.
Here the two girls faltered. Poised on the bed in their soft, partially-developed bodies, they found themselves shivering with vulnerability. Santana's head was spinning with a thousand questions that she didn't have the courage to give voice to and she felt the inexplicable urge to cry. Instead, she focused her internal energy on assuring herself that what they were about to do wouldn't change anything. They were best friends after all, first and foremost, and nothing would tear them apart.
Santana looked up at Brittany. The all-too-recognizable blend of emotions on her face - affection, apprehension, anxiety - was an exact reflection of her own. Her heart swelled to bursting as the other girl's lip protruded. She was afraid, too. Santana shakily pressed her palm against the side of Brittany's worried face.
It's going to be okay, she tried to say with her eyes. Everything will stay exactly as it was. I promise.
Then, with unsteady fingers, they removed their undergarments themselves.
What followed was indescribably perfect in its imperfection. They learned the steps of this foreign dance together and used their combined knowledge to work out the more intricate nuances. They were neither calm nor confident but the honesty behind every movement made their inexperience an insignificant afterthought.
Nothing's going to change, Santana adamantly reassured herself in the back of her mind. It's just a one-time thing. We'll be all right when it's over. It will still be the same.
But then Brittany's name slipped past her lips in an almost incoherent moan and her own name was gasped into her ear as Brittany echoed her cry. Santana shut her eyelids tightly against the hissing whisper of her own inner voice.
Think again.
... … …
The following morning, Brittany awoke to the touch of the sun's rays on her skin. This was followed by the chill of the space beside her on the mattress as she groaned and rolled over. The cold vacancy made her shiver. Brittany sat up confusedly as she realized that she was in her bed alone. Goosebumps rose along her arms and she rubbed them absentmindedly. Her bleary eyes searched the room for any sign of her guest. Then she saw that only her own clothes remained in the pile from the previous night.
That was it, then. Santana was gone.
Brittany didn't remember her friend saying anything about needing to leave early. She could have at least said goodbye. Unable to get warm, Brittany reached for the comforter folded at the foot of the bed and wrapped it around her bare shoulders. As she curled up and tried to conserve heat, her gaze fell on a folded piece of paper on the nightstand. She shot one hand out to grab it.
Brittany recognized Santana's handwriting immediately. Her vision began to blur as she read what the other girl had written. The simplicity and implied finality behind it left her feeling empty. She tugged her knees up to her chest and the quiet sound of her crying echoed through the empty bedroom. Brittany allowed the note to slip from her fingers as her hands reached up to wipe away the burning tears. When the paper fell onto the floor, the two words it bore were illuminated by a shaft of light coming through the window:
I'm sorry.