So, let me prelude this by letting you all know that I'm the most time insensitive person ever invented. But, I'm a full time college student and I have a job. I know these may sound like excuses for why I'm so update lazy, but they're not. They're obstacles. Summer's coming soon though and I'll have more time on my hands. Hopefully I can set up a designated day to have a new chapter out each week. Although, I'm a bit hesitant to declare one because what if I don't make the cut off? Then I would be some untrustworthy internet troll who doesn't deserve your reviews or story alert subscriptions.
Also, about those. The reviews/the alerts/the subscriptions? THANK YOU! I started writing this story to work out my own Brittana angst issues and the fact that so many of you have latched on is pretty fucking sweet. If it seems weird that I have "Brittana angst issues" in the first place let me explain that by saying that I get WAY too involved in television shows.
This chapter is a little shorter than the others. And lacking on the Brit part of Brittana. But, to it's core this is a Santana centric story. I'm trying to feel her out still.
If I'm too be completely honest with you, I would have to say that I like the story alert/author subscriptions much more than I do the reviews. (BUT, I STILL REALLY DO LOVE THE REVIEWS) The subscriptions, to me, say that this is not some fickle infatuation and that you are in it with me for the long haul.
The long U-Haul if you will.
Again, thanks so much for reading. And that goes for Like a Sore Thumb and that other story that I wrote who's title I can't really remember at the moment.
I'll shut up now, but if I had to pick a day to update each week it would be Sunday.
But, again...
"I've Held it in, but Now it Seems You've Set it Running Free."
Okay, the fucking truth of the matter? She is really good at sex.
Like bragging rights, should win a trophy, doesn't get much better than this, good.
The kind of good that gets building or highways named after it.
She's known this for awhile now. Ever since the first time she made a boy come. Which, in all honesty, wasn't very hard. Isn't very hard. Boys are like the simplest math equation ever invented. Not, that she's any good at math. But, she doesn't have to be because boys are that easy.
Rough hands+well timed moaning= Instant boy orgasm.
Fucking girls, well there's no plural. Fucking Brittany is a whole new ballgame.
A whole new math equation.
Laying there and clenching the inner walls of her vagina at the right moment, just doesn't cut it. Didn't cut it.
"Why is all this important?"
Santana stops in her track, looking like a freshly manicured deer caught in headlights. She spins around and does little to hide her aggravation over being interrupted by Ms. Pillsbury.
Emma stared back at her wide-eyed, as if at any minute she was going to spring from her chair and bolt down the hallway yelling about over-sexed teenagers à la Sue Sylvester.
"What do you mean, why is it important?" Santana spat the words back. As if it was the most ridiculous question the counselor could ever ask.
She knew it wasn't. Actually she was kind of shocked the counselor lasted this long without jumping in or spraying Santana down with the bottle of Lysol that teetered on the edge of her desk.
Santana had barged it, without warning or an appointment half and hour ago and had since been spewing off at the mouth about everything and nothing. Skirting the edges of what she really wanted to say because she knew if she said it, if she spoke the words into the universe, she was going to regret it.
"As honored as I am that you've decided to entrust me with the complete history of your sexual escapades, I'm not sure where it's leading -also, if I'm being honest with you, I must say that I am shocked that only Quinn Fabray ended up pregnant."
As she spoke, Ms. Pillsbury began to spray down her desk with her beloved can of sanitizer. Santana watched her silently.
"I thought that I was only gay for Brittany." Santana began softly, glancing behind her to make sure they were still completely alone.
Emma put down the aerosol can and took her gloves back off. Her large eyes now completely trained on Santana.
Only Santana doesn't really know what she wants to say now.
"But...?" pushes Emma.
"But...I think that I'm just...gay. Like textbook gay. Like not just in love with my best friend."
There were the words, bouncing around the room. Heavy and thick.
She pressed on, "Did I tell you that I loved her? Everyone else seems to know, so you probably do too...I mean, really no one can keep a fucking secret anymore."
Emma gave her a small smile, "Having romantic feelings for your friends is absolutely normal during your teenage years, Santana. Especially for girls-"
"We do the dirty. Well we did, we haven't since Tuesday in Mr. Kidney's storage closet. So save the lecture of the innocent feelings that blossom from the sisterhood of a girl on girl bond."
Quiet now. The comforting smile completely gone for Ms. Pillsbury's face, replaced by shock and something a lot like envy. Her mouth parts to speak, but Santana raises a hand instantly shushing her-"I'm not so sure I like this anymore."
"Not so sure you like what?"
"Me."
Santana could feel the tears begin to sting against her eyelids, a burning embarrassment she tried to hide with a quick shake of her head.
Ms. Pillsbury stood and Santana stepped back. Not wanting to be touched.
If Emma was to be completely honest. This was over her head. Three months ago, if someone were to ask her to counsel the Latina, she would have jumped at the chance. It was an easy assessment of a teenage girl who wanted everything in the world, but didn't deserve any of it. A archetype of the cliche mean girl. Santana was vapid and cruel. But, that wasn't the case any longer.
Santana Lopez, queen bee of all of the bitches in William McKinley High was the most complex person she had ever met.
And she didn't know how to help.
Santana seemed to sense it and with one deep breath she left out of the office.
She'd been making mistakes all week.
The first, of course, was fucking Britt Britt in that broom closet. Not only because she had once again shown Brittany that she wanted her only to have Brittany go right back to Artie, but also because she's pretty sure she was bitten by a spider.
So when she found herself sauntering over to Julia's cafeteria table she chalked it up to yet another stupid mistake to add to her count this week.
Julia sat by herself reading what Santana was pretty sure was the world's most boring book judging by it's cover and eating Jello.
"I'm not joining Glee club." She said without looking up from her pages.
"I'm not inviting you."
Recognizing Santana's voice, her neck snapped up quickly. She grinned. Santana pretended not to notice how pretty her hazel eyes were. Which wasn't too hard. Santana's good at pretending.
Good at stuffing down what she really feels.
"What's up?"
This was a good question. It had taken her almost all of her lunch period to work up the nerve to walk over to Julia's table and now that she had she wasn't sure what she wanted to say exactly.
Or why she was even there.
Julia grinned again, trying to ease Santana's apprehension. She held out her bowl of jello.
"Want some?"
"I don't eat anything that comes out of this cafeteria." Came Santana's reply as she eyed the green glob suspiciously.
"Well then where do you eat?"
"I use to be a Cheerio."
Julia cocked her head to the side, her face scrunching in confusion, "I don't know what that means."
"It means I don't eat."
"Well clearly that's an exaggeration."
Unwrapping her arms from around herself, Santana held up a hand to Julia, "I'm sorry did you just call me fat?"
"Yes."
"I will shove that spoon down your throat and use it to scoop out your insides."
Julia laughed loudly, her head tilting back, drawing looks from other students. Santana, much to her own disbelief, couldn't help but smile.
Julia's family moved to Lima from Florida to be closer to her Grandmother who was in the early stages of Alzheimer's. Her dad was a physical therapist and her mother was a kindergarten teacher. She had an older brother named Seth who was in the military and a younger sister who needed scheduled insulin shots to control her diabetes.
Julia hates the following things: brown rice, Ohio, Florida, spiders, insects, roaches, pollen, humidity, triple digit weather, below freezing weather, actually anything to do with nature really, chocolate and mice.
She use to be on the swim team back in Florida but quit once she found that smoking pot was much more fulfilling. She knows every Spice Girls song by heart and she can name the entire track listing of P!nk's Missundaztood album in chronological order. Technically she's Jewish, but her family isn't committed enough to their religion to give up bacon. She has her driver's license but is forbidden to use the family car because the last time she was behind the wheel she ran into their ex-neighbors porch. Julia admits, that it was probably partly her fault seeing as though she had downed four buttery nipple shots and chased them with three shots of Patron. But, the Saints had just won the Superbowl so cut her a friggin break.
Also, she's gayer than Christmas.
That textbook gay, Santana had spoken with Ms. Pillsbury about? That was Julia Donovan. And because of this little bit of information Julia had casually let out in between her ramblings earlier that day at lunch is why Santana found herself in the middle of Lima, Ohio's premier carnival. A place she had vowed to never return to since she was ten and the tilt-a-whirl's safety bar had flopped open and sent her flying out.
They strolled through the dusty makeshift roads eyes scanning over various pieces of metal contraption's of death. Santana's pulse racing, her breath steadily hitching in her chest making it hard for her to breathe.
She wished it was because of the six-year-old ingrained fear of this place that had her working overtime to inhale and exhale properly as they walked, but it wasn't. The fear and the tension came from the knowledge that she was walking around in a public place with an out and proud lesbian.
It came from wondering what people were thinking of her. Did they think she was one too? Were they making mental notes to slushie her in the hallway tomorrow morning? Were they going to tell her parents? Were they-
"We have to at least get on one ride, Santana."
Julia's voice sliced into her thoughts. Not missing a beat, Santana shook her head, "No."
Emphatically, not.
"Dude, we drove four fucking hours to get out here, I'm not going back until I get on the Ferris Wheel."
"This place is a dump. It's been a dump since it opened six years ago. Every consecutive year that it has pitched its tent it has been a dump. And it's dangerous. Also, I have no qualms with leaving you here. Actually? I'm leaving. You can stay if you want."
Santana turned on her heel, but before she could place her left foot in front of her right, Julia had her by the arm pulling her in the opposite direction and toward the massive Ferris wheel.
"I will break your nose if you do not get your hands off of me." She struggled against the taller girl, but the lean muscles in the ex-swimmers arms were stronger than she had thought.
"You know, San. Can I call you San? If we're going to be best friends, you're going to have to stop threatening me."
Julia hastily weaved herself and a struggling Santana through the crowd and to the Ferris wheel's gate. She handed over four tickets and a quick smile at the sweaty Carney who's eyes widened alarmingly as Santana began to shout, "RAPE!" as Julia hauled her into one of the bucket seats.
"She's a deeply, deeply disturbed girl." Is the only explanation Julia tossed back.
With one last apprehensive look at the duo -at Julia's hand bound tightly around Santana's wrist he flipped the switched and the wheel jerked to a start. The girls sailing slowly up to the sky.
Safely off the ground, Julia released her hold. With rapid fire, Santana sent a punch that landed squarely between Julia's breast in the middle of her chest, knocking the wind out of her.
"What the hell?"
"I HATE this place!"
"You punched me." Her voice came out in a rasp as she sucked in gulps of air, her hands massaging the pain away.
Santana scooted to the other side of the seat, white-knuckling the sides of the cart as it began to rock.
They came full circle back to the Carney who had lit a cigarette, "Let me out!" Santana shrieked.
"Ignore her!"
"I gotta take a piss." Came his reply as he stubbed out the menthol and walked away.
"You have got to be fucking kidding me!" Santana's voice traveled across the grounds as they were once again offered up to the setting sun.
"This is not a good start to our best friendship, Lopez." Julia's voice was even, the pain gone, replaced by a gentle numbness.
"We're not friends!" Santana hissed.
"You're angry and you're saying things you don't mean." They had made it up to the top again, Julia glanced down at the small sea of ant like people scurrying across the lawns. "Maybe it would help if I rocked us a little?"
"NO!"
The small smile they had been playing across Julia's lips faltered. There was something besides agitation in Santana's voice now.
"Are you scared?" Her voice was low and apologetic.
"I just haven't had a good experience with this place before in the past." It wasn't a lie. But, Santana wasn't about to start listing off her weaknesses to a relative stranger.
"I'm sorry. And as soon as that guy comes back I'll get us off of here...Also, I promise as your new best friend that I will be more considerate of your feelings."
"Stop saying that." Santana interjected before Julia could keep ramble on. "Stop saying we're best friends. We're not."
"But, we could be."
"No."
"Why not?"
Santana didn't answer. Her eyes roamed across the tree tops and she mentally kicked herself for not having the ability to fly. She didn't want to be there anymore. Not because of the creaking of the Ferris wheel. Or because of the smell of imminent death looming in the air.
But, because Julia was looking at her with her kind eyes asking her in her kind voice about why they couldn't be friends.
Asking her to tell secrets.
Julia watched her wordlessly. Santana's eyes never left the trees.
"Santana...?" Julia's voice was reassuring. Like, Ms. Pillsbury's. Like Brittany's.
Brittany.
She let the name echo across her mind for a moment, before mumbling, "People run from me."
A soft hand reached out and wiped a tear from her cheek. She hadn't noticed she was crying, but the simple touch opened a flood gate. Julia said nothing as she crossed the small expanse, rocking the seat slightly and wrapped her arms roughly around Santana.
They had come full circle again and were now on there way back up and there she sat. Sobbing in the arms of a girl she didn't know. In public. Humiliated and heart broken. And unable to calm herself.
Moments like these were what she worked so hard every day to prevent. When you're a bitch, people take notice and they stay away. They're afraid of you. If anyone gets hurt, it's them.
Santana had perfected this knowledge ages ago.
But, Brittany had stayed. Santana was kind to her. She showed her mercy, but in that she had no choice. Brittany made her merciful. She made Santana want to do stupid shit like read her stories, or make her breakfast, or watch John Hughes movies.
And now Julia. Who, for the past hour, Santana had done nothing but bitch at. Done nothing, but halfway listen to. Done nothing but hope people didn't really notice that they were together because if they know what she knew about Julia then they might get the wrong idea.
Wrong ideas lead to gossip.
And gossip kills.
In spite of how Santana had treated her though, there Julia sat rocking her gently. Letting her tears and snot and pitiful murmurs ruin her shirt. Once Santana had calmed and the body shaking sobs had died down to a quiet tremble, the Ferris wheel had already circled around twice. Santana peeked out from where her head was buried in Julia's neck and saw the Carney on his way back from the bathroom, wiping his hands on his tattered jean shorts.
She pulled away from Julia, never making contact as she wiped her eyes.
"Santana?"
The talking had come too quickly though. So she piled on the snark as she scooted as far away as she could in the cramped confinements of the Ferris wheel's seats "Look, I'm sorry for my Lifetime moment. I think I'm going to get my period soon."
"Be that as it may..." Julia said as she used her sleeve to help Santana dry her face, "I'm not going to run. And you can't make me."
"We'll see about that."