Brittany and Santana had been friends for most of their lives. They had always been in the same class thanks to the public school system and the fact that they lived a little more than 3 blocks away from each other ever since first grade, when Santana moved into Brittany's district from Lima Heights. The girls stuck to each other like white on rice, practically inseparable. They always went to Santana's house after school because her mom didn't get home until 6:00, whereas Brittany's parents got home at 3:30. The girls liked the freedom of having the house to themselves. Their activities went from coloring and doing each other's hair, to reading preteen magazines and talking about boys, to just doing absolutely nothing, just lying on the floor talking. Their parents asked, "don't you ever get sick of hanging out with each other all the time?" And the girls just laughed, their young minds unable to explain that they loved each other so completely, being apart felt wrong.
Santana went to Brittany's dance performances, and Brit watched Santana's piano recitals. They each grew up into very talented, creative young ladies.
Brittany will always remember the first time they kissed. She had wanted to kiss Santana for a long time but thought that Santana wouldn't want to so she didn't. One day in 6th grade, they were watching a soap opera in Santana's room after school, sitting on the bed. The main characters in the show were in the middle of a very long, passionate kiss. Brittany wondered aloud, "Hey San, do you ever get scared that since we've never kissed anyone, I mean really kissed anyone before, we won't know how to do it right when it actually happens?"
Santana remembers 9th grade, when the both of them were dating stoners because Santana decided that she was into that and Brittany was bored. They always sat on the long couch in Dan's basement, the boys on the end and Brittany right next to Santana in the middle. The air was filled with smoke, the mood was hazy, like it wasn't quite real. Santana's fingertips ghosted over Brittany's leg, left subtle touches that nobody noticed, but that gave Brittany butterflies like no boy ever could.
Brittany remembers 11th grade, stealing her dad's liquor, pouring it into a plastic water bottle, and sneaking out late at night to meet Santana. She still remembers just which floorboards creak, and the perfect way to get out the back door so the screen didn't slam. Most of the kids in their class would go out to parties and social events, but Santana didn't want to, and Brittany wanted to be with Santana. Santana would drive them to a field that Brittany never knew the name of, but could find with her eyes closed, they drove there so often. Bundled in the blankets kept in the trunk they would lie on the dewy grass, sipping Jack Daniels straight and watching the sunrise, and Santana would pour her soul out to Brittany. Brittany would listen, feeling her best friend's pain and wanting nothing more than to make it go away, but knowing she was virtually helpless. It hurt her to see Santana so miserable, but there was nothing she could do besides hold her tight when she cried and carry her into to the back seat when she fell asleep in her arms.
"Best friends don't do things like this, you know," Santana would say every time she woke up in Brittany's bed, realizing that once again, their clothing didn't make it into bed with them. She stated this matter-of-factly, as though it were true, as though it should make things uncomfortable. "Yeah, I know," Brittany would say, pretending to understand that what she and Santana had with each other was not a close friendship, a concept that she never fully grasped because of the unconditional love she felt for the girl in her bed. If not friendship, what could possibly make her feel this way?