Thanks for all your interest in this story guys, it means a lot! Review, review, review! All flashbacks will be in italics, while the present will be in normal text. Like the movie the sequence of events isn't exactly in chronological order, so if you get confused at any point feel free to ask me and I'll help explain it to you. (By the way, Gpal and Naya on Landslide, AMAZING right?)

I was born without the ability to be on time. I've yet to decide if it's because of my refusal to use an alarm clock, or the fact that I don't care enough these days. It's Tuesday morning, yet it still feels like Monday. Actually, every morning feels like Monday morning. It's like this routine has been etched into my mind because there are rarely any changes in my mornings. I've been on autopilot ever since I moved to New York.

I wake up, usually at about six in the morning if I'm lucky. I shower, sometimes. I'm pretty notorious for wearing yesterday's eyeliner to work these days. Sometimes I'll walk the long way to the train, other days I take the shortcut. I always miss the first train, and catch the second. I always sit on the bench that is to the right of the stairs, I never sit on the bench that is to the left.

Occasionally Patches, the homeless man, will be seated on my bench. When he is there I give him my lunch money, mostly because I know I'll be skipping lunch to catch up on work anyhow. The life of an editor has it's ups and downs I suppose.

I hate Tuesdays though, I always have. The train runs earlier, which means that against all I believe in I'm forced to miss the first train an hour earlier than I usually have to miss it during the week.

Today, though, has been different ever since I've woke up. I woke up an hour early, showered, and did my makeup. Now I'm sitting on my bench purposely missing the first train even though I'm on time. Even though it'd mean getting to work earlier, and leaving earlier. I'm not exactly sure why I miss it, maybe it's the rebel in my blood.

I regret not getting on the first train though, because my bench is quite full at the moment. A strange blonde girl dressed in short shorts, leg warmers, and a Beatles shirt is sat on the opposite side, with Patches in between us. I go through my purse to hand him my lunch money and as I do the girl gives me an odd look. Patches clearly doesn't approve and with her odd look she earns a bark from the man.

I just laugh, mostly because I'm not sure how else one is supposed to react in this situation. I myself have never been barked at, and judging by the look on the blondes face, neither has she.

Patches turns to give me a smile before getting up to leave, giving the girl an opportunity to decide to invade my personal space by shifting herself over to my side.

"He barked at my mom once," the blonde says while whispering into my ear.

I'm not sure if I smile at this comment, mostly because a smile is a foreign feeling to me these days.

Usually I look at chicks as smokin' or sexy, but this one, she's beautiful. Beautiful is totally overused. But when used in the right context, and with honesty and other mushy feelings, I think it can be enough. Enough for what? I don't know.

I never thought that mushy gut feeling that writers like Nicolas Sparks write about ever really existed when you meet someone, until now. God, and I don't even know her name.

Stupid feelings like this lead to stupid choices and a shit-ton of angst. Yeah, Mr. Sparks, I've read your books. Love in real life doesn't work your way; in real life relationships mean lies, and lies mean heartbreak and that means no happy endings.

She extends her hand forward to me, and I take it with caution. But since I've always been a strong believer in a firm handshake, so I do my best to keep calm keeping sure to make a good impression.

"I'm Brittany S. Pierce," she says while slightly slurring the "S' and the 'Pierce' together to sound like 'Spears', "no relation to Britney Spears."

"Santana Lopez," I say back laughing a little while she vigorously shakes my hand up and down.

I guess all those romantic mushy novelist guys are kind of right though; sometimes it only takes one moment to change your entire life.

I think love is just weird. Everyone expects it to be easy just like all the moments in a movie. You expect her to say the right thing at exactly the right time. She's supposed to read your mind and always know how you're feeling. Everything you do, she's supposed to know exactly how to handle it all. When you're upset she knows exactly how to fix it, and when you fight you expect her to come chase you down and make it all better. You rely completely on her and when things don't go the way you planned, you're completely crushed. But love isn't really a plan is it? It can't be written like a book with specific plots, and it most importantly never really comes to an end. Heartbreak is inevitable but you never expect it when it comes. The love, the feelings, they're what make up that blindfold and it keeps you blinded. And no matter how much you fight it to and no matter how much want to hate that person after all is said and done, you never will.

I never thought I'd ever buy into any of that crap. The love, the mush, it was never me. I thought it could never be me.

"Do you always miss your train on purpose, or is today just a special occasion?" Brittany asks after finally releasing my hand.

"Do you always ask strangers weird questions, or did I just get lucky today?" I challenge.

"We're not strangers though. You're Santana and I'm Brittany, we shook hands and now I know you and you know me. We're practically best friends now."

I quirk an eyebrow, confused.

"Best friends, huh?"

She nods, "Yep, best friends."

Love finds you I guess, it's not easy and you'll probably never understand it; I sure as hell don't. I think that love is that moment when you're fighting and you both are yelling so loud that you lose track of what you're even saying, but you both keep yelling because you have to keep each other together. It's the kind of yelling you do simply because you love them. It's like when your parents later apologize for yelling at you, not because they were wrong, but because you needed to hear what they had to say.

Love is seriously weird. You don't realize how much it's worth, and how different you acted when you had it, and you don't grasp the concept behind it until you realize that it meant more to you than it ever did to her.

"Britt, you can't just disappear for days at a time and think that when you come back I'll be here with open freakin' arms to take you in," I'm screaming at her... I never scream at her.

Four days though, she was gone for four days. It was like she had completely vanished off the face of the Earth and every time I tried to find her she just got further away.

If there's one thing about Brittany that I'll never understand, it's her lack of consistency.

She's just looking at me with those big puppy dog eyes, and when she screams back with more intensity than me, I'm rendered speechless.

"I can do whatever I want Santana, it's not like I'm your girlfriend, remember?"

I pace. I'm scared so I pace and I yell and pace and yell some more.

"You're my best friend, Brittany. You're all I have and you know that. You can't just leave like that. You can't just leave me alone to think you're dead or something. Maybe I can't be who you want me to be right now, but you're something okay? You're something and it scares me shitless and I just need to know you're alive."

Silence isn't golden, whoever said that is an idiot. Silence is scary. Silence is fucking terrifying. Because Brittany is standing here completely silent looking at me with a look that says nothing at all, and I just spilled my guts all over the place.

She doesn't say anything, and neither do I. She just walks toward me, grabs my face while looking me dead in the eyes.

"I'm alive, Santana."

Then she leaves.

Love is those times when you fight so much that you truly think the relationship is over, but she shows up the next day pretending nothing happened anyway. Love isn't all the things you like about her though. It's not all the cute things she says or how you act around people. It's not holding hands or stealing glances at each other. It's the fact what when you're together, and even apart, you keep each other grounded. Love is when you hand someone your heart, and trust them enough to either completly crush it, or keep it safe. It's being together, and being so scared of what's really between you, and knowing shes just as scared so it makes everything okay.

Two in the morning and someone's knocking at my door. Two in the freakin' morning on a Friday night and someone has the nerve to make me get out of my warm bed. This better be important.

Sleeping naked has it's downfalls in moments like these considering I have to scramble find my rob while this idiot bangs on my door.

After finally finding I walk out of my room to unlock my door. I don't even bother to look through the peephole, I just open the door.

"Hey San! I'm alive, and I brought cookies," Brittany says as she walks passed me all chipper with a skip in her step.

Yesterday we were fighting and now it's two in the morning and she's sitting on the floor in front of the television with a dozen cookies flipping through channels before finding Spongebob. She takes a cookie out of the bag and extends her hand toward me.

"Chocolate chip?" I ask.

"Chocolate chip," she replies.

Things always seem more promising when your head is clouded by the moment. You don't see the possible landslides, you just focus on climbing the mountain. You just climb with your blindfold on, screaming at the top of your lungs. You're happy. Something inside of you is just... happy. You stop caring about all the bad things. You stop worrying about the what if's. You climb the mountain because you know at the top of it, could be, should be, might actually be, love.

That's where I messed up. I climbed all the way up the damn mountain just to ride the landslide all the way to the bottom. But Brittany took the easy way out, because she's still up there, slowly climbing back down the way we came. With every new step, she's forgetting the last.

"I think you should miss the next train too," the blond girl says after a while of silence.

I weight my options, the biggest being the fact that some weird stranger is asking me to miss work and that could end in some brutal murder. Seriously though isn't this the perfect set up for a Steven King novel? Random girl comes into this hot woman's life, gets all involved and then out of nowhere turns into some weird monster thing and eats said hot woman... this situation has serial killer written all over it.

"You're not some creepy serial killer, right?" I ask half serious and half jokingly.

She looks confused and says, "I don't really like cereal, I'm more of a pancake kind of girl."

I laugh. I really laugh as she stand up and offers me her hand.

"Come on, let's go on an adventure."

I follow her. I'm not sure why, but I follow her.

Love drives us all insane and we can't be accountable for our actions while we're in it. We get so caught up that we don't even worry about going too far. Because with love you can't draw lines, you can't box yourself in and just play it safe. You have to go there, scare yourself silly, and keep doing it over and over. All the hardships won't matter in the long run, everything will be worth it as long as it's just you and her. That's what happiness is about, right? If you play it safe what do you really have? Nothing, because without all the tears and emotions you wouldn't ever feel complete.

Love is simply finding that person that completes you. Love is completing someone else.

The worst part though, is that it's not only your heart that's at stake, it's hers too. Anyway, it is until she erases you out of her life.