It was Friday and it was the second date. Santana's long dark brown locks were in loose curls draping over her shoulders and down her back. She wore a purple bodycon dress and a pair of black knee high boots. They both sat in the booth and she sat opposite to him. Sam wore a red plaid shirt with a pair of denim jeans with his usual blonde slicked to the side hairstyle.
"I'm quite surprised that you actually said yes to another date with me," he said to her, "I thought that my bad impressions scared you off."
"Oh believe me," she replied, "It would take a lot for me to be scared off, including your lame impressions."
"You really do tell the truth," he told her, "Don't you?"
"Yeah," she shrugged, "There's nothing wrong with that."
"Well," he admitted, "There kinder is if you're hurting somebody when you tell the truth."
"Listen," she told him, "People deserve to know the truth, how would you feel if one of your friends lied to you, like saying for example your impressions are really good?"
"That did kinder hurt me," he admitted as he looked down at his hand sadly.
"Exactly," she told him, "Now, I told you the truth and it felt better."
"No," he informed her, "That actually hurt me more."
"But if you carried on doing it then people would be laughing at you and not laughing with you," she informed him, "I did you a favour, you should thank me for that."
"I guess," he shrugged sadly.
"Look," she said to him as she leaned forward slightly, "If I hurt you then I'm sorry but I was just telling you the truth because I thought that you deserved to know the truth and the fact that people were laughing at you, which I don't think is right because you're a nice guy, Sam and you don't deserved to be laughed at."
"I just thought that my jokes were an ice-breaker," he told her, "But I guess it's not."
"Sam," she said to him as she reached over to his hand, "You're a nice guy and you don't deserve this. I wouldn't have said yes to a date if I didn't think that you were a nice guy."
"Just promise me one thing," he asked her, "Promise me that you won't be brutally honest with me all the time."
"I can't actually promise you that," she admitted, "Because I was brought up to tell the truth, all the time and I'm not gonna stop anytime soon." He sighed and looked down at his hands. "But," she continued, "I can tone it down just a little bit."
"Thanks," he smiled as he looked up at her.
"But I can't promise you that I'll stop being a bitch," she admitted, "That's something that I'll never stop doing because if I wasn't a bitch then I wouldn't have done what I did to Puck."
"You really a bitch," he said to her, "Aren't you?"
"Okay," she responded and pointed at him, "I can call myself a bitch but you can't call me a bitch, you got that?"
"Yeah," he nodded, "I won't call you a bitch again."
"Because you might be a nice guy, Sam," she admitted, "But that doesn't mean that I won't wipe the floor with you if you call me a bitch again."
"Done," he nodded again, "I won't be doing it again."
"Good," she nodded also as she leaned back into the chair of the booth. She looked up and noticed Sebastian standing at the booth with a blonde bombshell. "Who the hell is she?" She scowled.
"Who?" Sam asked as he looked over his shoulder to notice Sebastian, he turned back to her, "Isn't that your friend Sebastian?"
"Yeah," she replied, "It is but who the hell is that bimbo he's with?"
"It looks like his date," he told her, "He didn't tell you about her?"
"No," she replied shaking her head, "What the hell is he doing bringing her here?"
"You said that he was rich," he asked her, "Why would he be bringing her here when he has money? I mean, if I had money then I would be taking you somewhere much fancier than here."
"Exactly," she responded, "Excuse me." She stood up and walked over to the booth that Sebastian and the blonde bombshell was sitting. He wore a checked shirt and a pair of denim jeans. The blonde bombshell was wearing a black Prada dress and wore her hair half up and half down, her loose curls draping over her shoulders and the hair that was clipped up at the back was in the shape of a beehive. She sat opposite to Sebastian and was smiling at him, he too was smiling back at her when Santana strutted over to them with her hands placed firmly on her hips. Sebastian looked up and noticed her coming towards them and she finally stood in front of them. "Who is she?" She snarled at him and pointing at her.
"Oh," he replied, "I'm sorry, I forgot to mention her to you, this is my date."
"Yeah," the blonde smiled as she turned to her, "And who the hell are you?"
"I wasn't talking to you," she snarled as she held her hand up in front of the blonde's face, she frowned and looked at him who was staring up at Santana. "So," Santana continued, "Are you gonna tell me who she is?"
"This is Gwendoline," he told her, "She goes to Dalton too."
"What kind of name is Gwendoline?" She snorted.
"Excuse me?" Gwendoline scoffed, "How dare you?!"
"I wasn't talking to you," she snarled, "So, why don't you shut your face before I make you."
"Excuse me!" Gwendoline squealed, "You can't speak to me like that."
Santana turned and raised both of her eyebrows at her, "Really?" She asked her angrily, "You're gonna take me on? I really wouldn't do that because that fake blonde hair of yours will be all over this floor, including the extensions, which by the way, look totally fake."
"Are you gonna let her speak to me like that?" Gwendoline asked him.
"Yeah," she asked him as she turned to face him, "Are you gonna tell me?" She raised her eyebrows at him angrily, "I dare you."
"Hey, Santana," he said to her, "Can I have a word with you?" He stood up, grabbing her arm he pulled her down the restaurant towards the side entrance, he pulled her through the door and closed the door behind him. "What the hell was that all about?"
"Who the hell is she?" She questioned him as she pointed towards the door.
"I told you," he replied, "That's Gwendoline, she goes to Dalton and I thought that it would be cool to take her out on a date."
"You said that you didn't want to date," she questioned him with an arched eyebrow, "Or are you doing it now just because I am?"
"Don't flatter yourself, Santana," he laughed smugly and glanced to the side.
"And what kind of name is Gwendoline anyways?" She laughed, "It's one of the worst names that I've ever heard in my life."
"Wow," he smiled, "It sure sounds to me that you're jealous of her."
"Of that fake blonde?" She laughed, "Please, why would I be jealous of you two?"
"Because you want to date me," he shrugged smugly, "That's the only reason why you would be acting this way."
"And you would only being going on a date with her because you're jealous of me," she snapped back, "Because you said to me that you don't want to date because you're too young to settle down."
"Maybe I changed my mind," he admitted, "What's wrong with changing my mind?"
"You only changed your mind once I started dating Sam," she told him, "You wouldn't be dating her if I wasn't dating Sam because you'd just be getting sex from me." She paused and her eyes opened wide finally realising why he was doing it. "You're scared," she gasped.
"Scared of what?" He frowned.
"You're scared that something will happen between Sam and I," she informed him, "And if something does happen between us that would mean that the sex would stop and you wouldn't be getting it."
"Oh please," he replied smugly, "I was getting it way before I gave you the offer. I can have sex with anybody that I want."
"But you've gotten used to the causal relationship," she told him, "You're scared that if Sam and I actually become an item then the sex would stop, which of course it will do because I'm not a cheat."
"You're so full of yourself, Santana," he sneered, "You know that?"
"I'm so full of myself?" She exclaimed pointing to her chest, "You're so full of yourself. You've just said that you could have sex with anybody that you want. I think you're the one who's totally full of himself."
"You're not as hot as you make yourself out to be," he snarled, "Without the makeup and the tight dresses you would be nothing."
Angry at his comment, she smacked him across the cheek with a loudly slapping sound vibrating from his cheeks. The force of the smack caused his head to turn and causing him to stumble back slightly. He smirked and turned back to her.
"You slap like girl," he smirked.
She took a step towards him and raised her knee up to his crotch, kneeing him in the crotch causing him to whimper, he fell down to his knees and placed his hands over his crotch as he dropped to the floor groaning in pain. She bent down and got in his face.
"Speak to me like that again," she snarled at him, "I'll do a whole lot more than just kicking you in the balls." She stood back up straight whilst he carried on groaning and wincing in pain with his hands still holding onto his crotch. "Stay the hell away from me," she snarled again. She stepped over him and pulled open the door as she made her way back over to her booth where Sam was sitting. Gwendoline looked around and noticed her walking back towards her, she stood up and stood in her way. Santana rolled her eyes and smirked at her.
"Don't," she told her, "Because you're not gonna win."
"Wait until I tell my mom and dad about you," Gwendoline squeaked, "You'll be in so much trouble."
"Is that all you can do?" She laughed cynically, "Make threats?" She took a step towards her, "Listen, Barbie," she insulted, "If you think you think that you can mess with me then you've got another thing coming. You haven't met me so I'm gonna let you know who I am." She took another step towards her and looked down at her. "I'm Santana Frickin' Lopez, I'm a bitch and believe me, Barbie, you don't want to mess with me because messing with me will be the worst thing that you'll ever do."
"So," Gwendoline replied shakily, "You're making threats to me too now?"
"Oh no, Barbie," she responded bitchily, "I'm not making threats, I'm making promises. I'm a bitch and you seriously don't wanna mess with me. Go and ask your date what happens when you cross me." Gwendoline glanced to the side, "But then, I'm pretty sure that he won't be able to talk," she continued, "Because I kicked him in the balls."
"You did what?" Gwendoline replied as she snapped her head to look back at her, "Why would you do that?"
"Because I'm a bitch," she shrugged, "A bitch that you don't want to be messing with."
"You do know that his dad is a States Attorney," Gwendoline told her, "He will get you done for that."
"Yeah," she replied, "That won't happen, because you see, your little date in there only brought you here to make me jealous, and because he was jealous of me having a date. He's not into you, he's jealous because he won't be able to get the sex from me anymore."
Gwendoline looked at her in shock, her eyes widening and her mouth dropping.
"Oh," she asked her, "He didn't inform you about that? Oh yeah, we've been having sex and believe me, Barbie, compared to me, you're nothing." Gwendoline carried on looking at her in shock with her jaw dropping even lower. Santana leaned towards her and whispered in her ear, "Close your mouth, Barbie, you're drooling." She pat her on the shoulder and walked passed her with a smug smirk on her face. She finally reached her booth and slid in opposite Sam.
"What was that all about?" He asked her with furrowed eyebrows with confusion.
"Oh," she admitted, "That was just me telling the truth and being a complete bitch."
"And what did you tell her the truth about?" He asked her again.
"I just told her that the only reason why her date brought her here was because he was jealous of us," she shrugged.
"He's jealous?" He asked her in shock, "I had no idea that he was into you."
"Me either," she mumbled under her breath, "Me either."