Dearest readers, I'd like to thank you for your patience during this difficult time.

I wasn't satisfied with the first draft of this Entry so I completely re-wrote the second half of it and now I'm much happier that it's a better characterisation of Brittany. So, I hope you enjoy the conclusion to this Entry!

Dear X,

When we were in freshman year of high school and I joined like, pretty much every after school club, it got kinda hard to remember where I was supposed to be, so San helped me start using the calendar on my phone. Now I update it all the time and check it every morning so I don't get lost or forget my cheerios kit, plus it's super fun to colour co-ordinate.

Everything that relates to Santana is coloured red because that's the colour of love (and fire - she's pretty fiery… hot too, like flames… and I burn when she licks me). I've forgotten whatever I was going to write now.

Oh yeah, the calendar. So the first thing I did when I woke up in Rach's basement, which was smelling pretty bad now, was roll over to check if anything was going on today. Turns out there were two things:

1. Coloured yellow - Start of 3 week (!) dance rehearsals for the summer show at Lima Palace Theatre - 10am

2. Coloured red - San goes on vacation :(

It was actually kind of a shock; I'd completely forgotten about both of those things - I guess I must have gotten caught up in all the super fun glee club stuff at Rach's house.

The Lima Palace is the biggest theatre in Lima (it's not as cool as it sounds though; it's still pretty small) and every year they do a summer performance, like a musical or something, which they say anyone can audition for, but usually the main parts go to the adults who run the theatre school there. Rach gets super mad about it, I know she auditions every year and the biggest part she's ever had was last year when they did 'Hairspray' and she got to be one of the girls who danced badly in one scene. She kept dancing too good so they fired her. I thought that was kinda mean.

For as long as I can remember I've been in the shows because they always use my dance class for the chorus dancers. Rach doesn't know; she doesn't go to see the performances, and I think that's probably for the best. The only person who knows is Santana; she's never a missed a show. Sometimes she comes to watch more than once because she says you see things the second time that you missed the first… but mostly she likes to watch for mistakes and throw crumbled up breadsticks onto the stage when the actors aren't looking.

San was already awake, leaning on her side watching me, when I checked my phone. Her hair was kinda messed up but in a cute way that made me want to kiss her and tangle my hands up in it.

So I did that.

After a while she pulled away a little and asked me what was going on today. I guess if anyone else heard it would have sounded like she was asking to make plans, but I know she was asking what was already planned.

I told her about my dance rehearsal and she panicked a bit, checking the time on her phone and leaping up from the couch.

It was 9:45.

I pretended to check my phone again so that I could watch Santana take off her shirt and see the path on her back that curves in and down into her pants. It's the path I like to trace, with my finger, or my mouth, because it feels like I'm discovering her. I'm like Christopher Colombus.

She threw on a hoodie (the one that clings to exactly the right places 'cause it's just a bit too small) and whispered over her shoulder for me to write Rach a note, letting her know that we had to leave. Everyone else had left the night before so it was just Rach and Quinn left sleeping on the floor. We gathered up our stuff, San grabbed her keys from the special bowl by the door and we got out the door by 9:50.

I made Santana drop me off around the corner from the theatre; I wanted to give her a chance to say goodbye properly without having to worry about anyone seeing us. Even though the glee kids know about us now, I understand that she's still scared and I want to make sure she's comfortable with us because like, I think that's the most important thing right now.

She pulled over and took her sunglasses off to lean over and brush her perfect lips against my clammy cheek. I couldn't help but stare at her; she looked so radiant. I guess maybe the sunlight was spilling onto her hair at a good angle or something, because she totally took my breath away. I forgot how to use my voice. Like, I mean, my mind went blank and sound just wouldn't come out. All I could do was leave my mouth hanging open and hope that somehow the words I needed would fall out.

They didn't.

Her smile stayed put but her eyebrows moved a little closer together in a small frown, making the face she does when she doesn't understand what I'm talking about but thinks I'm cute anyway. Usually I like that face; it makes my chest feel tight, but in a good way, not like in the way when I was in 4th grade and I had an asthma attack. It means she loves me, but today I didn't feel happy. I didn't understand why she hadn't said goodbye properly… she hadn't even mentioned it.

I reached for the handle and grabbed my bag, swinging my legs out of the door, but I felt a hand on mine. A squeeze.

Her face was closer now and I felt her eyes searching my face, like she was trying to sort of read me. Not my face, she wasn't reading my face; she looked past my face, right into me.

"Have a good day Britt-Britt"

I pulled my hand from hers and slammed the door shut, walking away quickly before she noticed I hadn't replied. My foot was in the stage door when I heard her pull away and I finally felt that tight feeling in my chest. This time it wasn't the good kind, but it wasn't like the fourth grade either.

It was worse; my bottom lip started to tremble and I had to dig my nails into my palm to stop the fresh water in my eyes from spilling over.

I felt my body go through the motions of the familiar steps, rearranged into a different routine, but my thoughts stayed in the not-so-distant past, with Santana.

It wasn't like her to go anywhere without a proper goodbye. One time she got sick at cheerios camp, I think it was when we were about fourteen so it was probably her second bout of mono, and Mrs. Lopez had to pick her up to take her home. The nurse wouldn't let her see me so San threatened to tell her, in detail, exactly how she'd caught mono… again.

Since this is private and everything I have a confession to make. I think maybe it's my fault San keeps getting mono.

I know we both make out with a lot of people, but when she kisses me, she's making out with everyone I've ever locked lips with too, that's what Miss Holliday told us, and San used to get sick real easy so I guess making out with me multiplies her chances of getting mono by like… a lot.

Anyway, the nurse let me in to see her on the condition that I wore one of those surgical masks, which I totally didn't mind because they're like, so cool. We used to play with them in Dr. Lopez's study when we were little and San liked to play doctors. I preferred vets so we alternated, but I was always a human and San was always a cat.

When I got into the nurses office Santana explained that she wanted to make sure I didn't think she'd just left me. She looked kinda pale and tired so I hopped up onto the bed and wrapped my arms around her chest so that she could lay her head on me. We cuddled like that until her mom came, and by that time she was fast asleep, so I took my mask off quickly to give her just a tiny mouse kiss on her damp forehead.

The nurse got mad, but I never got sick.

By the time lunch rolled around I almost didn't want to break. I felt like I might go crazy if I stopped moving long enough to over-think things. I was upset, but I was sort of angry too; I'd been so proud of her the night before. I felt worse than the time I found out Lord Tubbington had started smoking again, and that was tough - I was so disappointed when I found that pack of Marlboro Reds taped to the back of his litter tray. Luckily he was cat enough to admit his mistake and now we're working through it together, slowly.

I was actually kinda shocked to see that, as I pulled my phone out form my duffel, I'd got a text from Santana. Relief washed over my aching body; I didn't even realised how hard I'd been working, but it was short-lived and replaced by confused when I realised how short the text was - it fit onto the preview screen.

"W34"

Other dancers started to flood out past me as the pathetic excuse for a lunch break ended, but I stayed leaning against the wall, staring at the ridiculously cryptic message, tapping the screen with my thumb to stop it going dark and swallowing up the clue.

After a few seconds of furiously wracking my brain, something clicked.

I pursed my lips and let the hand clutching the phone drop to my side as I quickly contemplated the likelihood of the only solution I could think of to Santana's message.

Before I knew it my legs were carrying me out of the changing room and through the crowded backstage mess of unfinished props and costumes, to the empty stage. I stopped briefly, looking out and up to where an audience would be in just a few short weeks, searching for validation, before realising I wouldn't be able to see anything from there; the house lights stayed switched off during the first few days of rehearsal while we got familiar with the choreography.

I landed (not to blow my own trumpet, but) quite gracefully in the music pit and pretty much threw myself through the door at the edge of the theatre that leads to the exits or the stairs. You know the one; you can usually get ice creams from near them during that little break in performances.

Taking the stairs three at a time was easy; I've been doing it like forever and since my growth spurt in freshman year I can sometimes do four, so I always win the races. It does get you pretty out of breath though so by the time I stopped, at row W of the upper circle, I was panting.

I scanned the row for seat number 34 but when my gaze fell on it, I was sorely disappointed.

It wouldn't be the first time my ideas had been wrong, or that I'd misunderstood something and gotten over-excited, but I was so sure this time that being wrong hurt more than usual.

I squeezed my eyes shut tightly and started reaching for my phone, to re-read and check the text, when something caught my eye.

The glisten of a thumbtack stuck into the back of seat 34 stopped dead the tears that were threatening to spill out. I edged into the row sideways to get a better look and found that the tack held a gum wrapper to the back of the chair.

Upon closer inspection the wrapper had a message scribbled on, in handwriting I'd recognise anywhere.

I mean, it'd be weird if I didn't; San leaves little post-it notes everywhere. She likes to make lists on them, or reminders, and she leaves them all around her house. She always carries one of those small pink pads in her handbag, along with a pen I brought her back from my family vacation to San Francisco. The special notes she leaves for me are done on heart-shaped post-its and she leaves little messages on them at my house (for me to find after she leaves) or in my locker. Sometimes they say 'good luck' if I have a motocross race, or they have a place and time (for secret daytime sweet lady kisses), but most of them just have cute lyrics or quotes that make me smile.

My favourites are the ones that just say, 'I love you'.

The first one of those came just after we learned to write and I've kept every single one since then. It's fun to look at the different paper they're on - there's scraps of patterned paper from elementary school, then kiss-shaped post-its from when she was carving out her reputation as the sexiest piece of ass at junior high (and oh my god, she totally was the hottest girl in that place - wayyy hotter than Jesus-Freak-Fabray), and then there's the heart-shaped ones from this summer when she decided to let her awesomeness out.

The handwriting has changed too; it's italicised and sophisticated and as I looked at her gum wrapper message her handwriting made me feel proud of her… for being so mature and amazing, I guess. It read,

"Turn around"

I spun, and was greeted by a recently showered Santana leaning against the opposite row of chairs - her hair wasn't quite dry and it fell around her shoulders messily, framing a fresh face that sported a lopsided, but still totally hot, grin.

"What's up B? You didn't seriously think I'd leave without saying anything did you?"

Her grin folded into a smirk (the one does during glee club that really gets me in the mood) as she uncrossed her arms and moved closer, gesturing for me to join her.

I didn't actually know what to say; I was pretty confused and even if by some miracle I could've thought of something, the kiss she greeted me with would have silenced me anyway, and probably made me forget my middle name - that's happened before.

My hands moved from her waist and my fingers gently traced up her spine to tangle themselves around soft, brown locks, as I felt her tongue run the small crack between my lips, and she used her grip on the small of my back to pull me closer.

Every move her body made was asking mine for permission to enter.

Her lips broke away but remained in contact with my skin as her mouth worked over my pulse, around to my ear, marking the path with tender kisses. She flicked out her hot tongue before huskily breathing out a low whisper,

"We're going on vacation honey."

I pulled back to look into her eyes, you know, those incredible dark treacle eyes that I could swear hold an unnatural power over me… (and that definitely hold a freaky power over my lady parts), just to check I hadn't imagined it.

Her sincerity was clearly displayed, along with a hint of vulnerability, to let me know that it was real. I closed the gap between us and reached around Santana to pull down a theatre chair before guiding her down into it.

Apprehensive treacle eyes searched me as I moulded my body around hers and let her in.

Love From B.