I walked into the house and began up the stairs.

"Brittany! Hey! Where were you last night?"

I brushed off my father's questions and simply walked upstairs, into my room, and shut the door. I leaned onto the closed door and reached down and turned the lock.

I really don't want to talk to anyone right now.

I took a few steps towards my bed, but even before I could faceplant into the mattress, the tears had started to roll. I pulled a pillow down from the head of the bed to bury my face in. It was one of those loud and uncontrollable sobs.

What did I do to make her feel this way? What can I do to get her back?

I had never seen Santana look as broken as she did when she was yelling at me this morning. I had never seen anyone look that hurt. The realization of the pain I was causing her pushed me over the edge, and I was sure at this point that I was crying so loudly that Santana could probably hear me from her mansion. My heart began beating so fast that I could feel the vibrations of its movements down to my feet. My entire body trembling, I pulled my feet up on the bed and turned onto my side, into the fetal position. I could hear my family at the door, wanting to talk to me. Mom, Dad, even my sister Kate. Though I was too lost in my own thought to decipher who was saying what, it all pretty much amounted to a bunch of questions and expressions of support. But none of that mattered.

The only one who could comfort me now is Santana.

I felt myself grow tired, and I could feel my face pulsating in a wet swollen mess from all the tears that had crossed it that day. I let the need for sleep roll over me.

I looked around at all the drunken people dancing and smiled. I loved BreadStix. Everyone was so genuine and so real and so nice. It was like having a hundred of the best friends you've never met, all in one place. The music washed over me, and I returned my gaze to the rocker before me.

I heard a loud and drunken, "I love youuuuu, Will!" from my left.

I laughed at the drunk girl's declaration, and apparently Will Hoge had found it just as amusing. He smiled and waved at her. I immediately heard her squeal for joy, and I laughed to myself.

I was getting thirsty, and I started scanning the crowd for the good looking guy I had just sent for my drink. Seeing him nowhere, I shrugged to myself and turned back towards the stage. He was singing an incredibly passionate song: Lover Tonight. About thirty short seconds into it, I was hooked, and I felt like he was singing only to me, but this was quickly shaken by the warm hand wrapping itself around my waist.

"It's about time you got back here with 'this'," I slightly tilted the glass that had been placed into my other hand as I leaned back into the man's frame.

I felt his grip tighten, and I smiled to myself as I slowly began to turn around in his arm. About a third of the way around, I noticed him staring at me from several feet back, and quickly turned my attention to the short brunette that I was pressed up against.

"Santana..." I whispered.

She simply smiled and wrapped her other arm around my waist, linking her own fingers together. Taken aback, but surprisingly happy at the girl who had embraced me, I gazed back into her brown eyes and smiled, completely forgetting the 'stud' that was still staring, very confused, at the two of us. It seemed like the world began to move in slow motion, as I slid my free hand up and placed in on the crook between her shoulder and neck, feeling her shiver at my touch.

"And lover tonight, don't leave

Just one more kiss upon my cheek

We've got miles and times

Between this heart of yours and mine

Lover tonight, don't go..."

The sounds of the singer washed over our bodies as I pulled her in closely by the neck, our breaths warm and swirling around the others; our hearts racing. I could feel her entire body tense up as I placed the cold drink in my hand on her bare upper back to pull her even closer. Our faces were so close at this point, neither of us daring to shift our eyes from each other. A slight smile crossed her lips as mine inched even closer. She closed her eyes and tilted her head slightly, pulling so close that I felt her lips slightly engulf by lower lip...

I woke in a cold sweat with my heart beating so fast I thought it would leap out of my chest.

Damnit...

For the third night in a row, I had the same dream of Santana and I at BreadStix, and the fact that she wasn't talking, or even looking at me for that matter, at school, just made the pain of reality that much worse.

"I have got to do something about this..." I muttered to no one in particular.

Slowly, I got up and started to get ready for school. I hopped into the shower, got dressed and fixed my hair and make-up without being able to shake the image of her lips so close to mine. In the past few days, I had gone between thinking of Santana as the best friend I couldn't live without, to the best friend that I couldn't stop dreaming about kissing. My brain couldn't really comprehend what it all meant, but, thanks to my heart, I knew that I couldn't go another day without doing something about it.

I climbed into Quinn's car and rode in silence to school as she rambled about her campaign for Junior Prom Queen. Quinn was my friend, and I knew how much being Prom Queen meant to her, but I couldn't think of anything other than my day's goal: get Santana to sit down and talk to me. It seemed like such a simple task, but the girl had even been going as far as to skip the classes they shared together to avoid talking to her. It wasn't that Santana was skipping classes-that was nothing new-but, she usually skipped the ones we didn'thave together; not the other way around.

"Brittany? Brittany, are you listening to anything I'm saying?" Quinn brought me back to the conversation in the car.

Nope. Completely zoned out, Quinn.

"Uhh, sorry, Q, I was thinking about the choreography for Regionals. Mr. Shue has been on me about finishing it." I lied.

"Ugh. I asked you if you had heard of people talking about voting for Zizes for Prom Queen?"

"Oh, no, not really. People think you're pretty, Quinn. And you're nice. Lauren is really mean to people."

"That's what I thought," she smiled smugly to herself as she pulled into her parking spot.

I got out of the car and happily walked in the opposite direction of Quinn, as our first classes were on opposite sides of the school. I went to my locker so I could check my schedule.

How do I still not remember which classes to go to? Oh, right. Normally, I just follow Santana.

Santana. I had to find her before classes started. I walked by Coach Sylvester's office, and down to our first period Spanish class. I still couldn't find her. I turned a corner towards the choir room, and I knew I was headed in the right direction. A very soft, subtle, but beautiful voice gently flowed out of the room and into the hallway.

Santana's practicing for Regionals.

I walked in, but she was sitting on the piano bench, with her back to the door and headphones shoved into her ears. I stood there for just a moment, letting the warmth of her voice wash over me. I walked up behind her and waited for a break in the song.

This is my chance.

I took a huge breath before tapping her on the shoulder as I sat next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder to prevent her from bolting too quickly. She turned her head to face me, and I saw all color drain from her face when she realized who it was.

"San..." was all I was able to get out before she interrupted me.

"I thought I told you not to call me San anymore!"

She was yelling, though unintentional, because her headphones were still in her ears. She glared at me as I jumped slightly at the tone in her voice. I reached up to pull out one of her headphones, but she pulled back, unable to determine what I was about to do. With my right hand, I held up one finger, signaling that it was okay, and slowly reached up with my left to pull out one of her earbuds.

"Oh... sorry..." she said sheepishly when she realized what I was doing. Her face quickly turned serious again and she looked at me with a hard look.

"What do you want, Brittany?"

"I want you to talk to me, Santana. Or, more specifically," I paused, "I want you to listen to me. That's all I'm asking. Please, just give me ten minutes to talk. After that, you can get up and storm away if you don't like what I have to say."

She stared at me for a moment, contemplating my offer. She still was looking at me with complete sadness and bitterness on her face. I could feel the hurt radiating from her body onto mine, and I began to tear up again. Though no tears had fallen from my eyes, she sensed how sincere I was being. She looked down as she pulled out her other earbud and turned her iPod off. Her body slowly turned, and she flung one leg over the bench, so she was facing me full on.

"Okay, you can talk. But I'm only giving you eight minutes, cause you've already wasted a few."

She smiled a half smile, and I realized she was trying to make me laugh.

Thank goodness.