Hey gang! I'm back finally. Thank you all so much for being patient with me and putting up with my inconsistent updating. I'm trying to be as consistent as I can but I write as I get inspiration. Also a big thanks to all those who have reviewed, favorited or story alerted. I really value your opinions and keep writing because of you guys. But anyway, update time. Hope you enjoy and don't forget to review.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Although any mistakes are mine.

Chapter 7

Santana POV

'Why did I agree to this?' I think as I pull into an empty parking space. I put my car in park, unclick my seatbelt and sigh. Why the hell did I agree to this?

Confused? Here, let me explain. It all started when I got Lady Hummel to give me Berry's number. When she finally picked up, what followed was a painfully awkward conversation where she spent the first part threatening to hang up on me. Which was then followed by me begging her not to until she listened to me.

Okay. Strike that.

Maybe not begging because Santana Lopez doesn't beg. Not even in bed. People tend to give me what I want without me having to plead with them. So it was more like repeatedly requesting her not to hang up on me.

Flashback

"What do you want Santana?" Damn. She is really pissed at me. This isn't going to be an easy sell. Goddamn Kevin and his motherfucking advice.

"Listen for a sec Berry. I'm trying to apologize for all the shit I said to you the other day," I spit out, jumping straight to the point.

"Oh really?" I can practically feel her cross her arms across her little chest and rolling her eyes in that Rachel Berry way. But then again, maybe this new Berry doesn't do that. Maybe she only rolls her eyes. Or maybe she puts her hands on her hips and shifts her weight to one side in a standoffish way. Or maybe I should listen to what the hell she's saying because she just said something. Shit. "What was that, Berry?" I ask.

"Jesus Christ, you called me and now you're not even listening to me when I ask you why you called?"

"I thought you were Jewish?"

"What the hell, Santana? You have literally 30 seconds to explain the reason for this call before I hang up on you and make it so you never find me again. Got it?" Holy shit. Okay. How do I even respond to that?

"Like I said, I wanted to apologize for acting like a classless jackass the other night," I start.

"20 seconds."

"And I wanted to ask you if you wanted to come with me to get coffee or some shit like that so we can catch up properly." She doesn't answer right away and I'm not okay with that. Yes or no. It's simple and for some reason, I really want the answer to be yes. Don't judge me.

"Is that it?" she says finally and what the fuck kind of answer is that? Doesn't even make any damn sense.

"Is what it?"

"Is that all you want to say to me?"

"Well yeah. What else do you want me to say, Berry?"

"I'm not sure. I feel that your apology lacks something but I guess you can give it another try over coffee."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. How does tomorrow morning sound?"

"How about tomorrow afternoon? It's Saturday and I don't do mornings."

"I'm busy in the afternoon. Tomorrow morning Santana. Take it or leave it."

End Flashback

It seemed easy enough to agree to a not so random chance encounter with Berry but now as I'm sitting inside my car, anxiously drumming my fingers on the steering wheel (which is weird because I don't do anxious) I'm starting to regret this whole fucking thing. Like, this will be the first time we've spoken in the last like, four years. I mean, I know we talked the other night but that little encounter at the Blue Mic doesn't count because alcohol was involved and I was too busy staring at her cleavage and trying to think of creative ways to fuck her senseless to actually be listening to anything she had to say. So now, if I ever decide to get the hell out of the damn car we will truly talk. No jazz bands. No telephones. Absolutely no alcohol (which I wish I had some right now). Just some serious sober face-to-face one-on-one Lopez-Berry time.

Great.

I take a few minutes to reevaluate my life choices and my decision to actually be here right now. I also mentally prepare to apologize or whatever shit Kevin wants me to do to make nice and be the bigger person. Such a load of bull. But whatever. I wonder what time it is. I look at the clock on my phone. 10:15.

Fuck.

I'm late. We agreed to meet at 10 in the morning today (despite my pleas for an afternoon rendezvous). But at least she had a good excuse because she has a weekend class at noon (who the hell takes weekend classes?) and is going to be busy for the rest of the day. New confidence and wardrobe. Same old Rachel Berry. So basically now's the only time she could spare so I actually managed to drag my sexy yet oh so sleepy ass out of bed before noon on a weekend. And for what? For me to be late. Nice one. I hope she's still here. No. Strike that. She better be still here. She knows I'm usually fashionably late to just about everything (jobs don't count because one gets fired pretty quickly for being late and I needs my money).

I sigh, check my hair and makeup in the front mirror and… What the fuck am I doing? Fuck this. It's just Berry.

Quickly grabbing my Coach bag (a gift from Daddy) from the passenger's seat, I open the door, get out of the car and click my remote twice to lock it. Since it's not a date or whatever, I'm just dressed in a pair of black Bermuda shorts, a blue short sleeved V-neck that makes my still rambunctious twins look awesome and black low top converses.

Wondering what happened to my near patented Santana Lopez style of from the past? Well ever since mi Papi found out I dropped out of college to pursue music ("la vergüenza" he said. Truly his mother's son with that one), he decided that the best way to punish me was to cut me off financially. But since I'm as stubborn as he is not to mention way more creative, it didn't punish me as much as it made me get resourceful with my money making. Now I don't dress as super sexy hot runway fashionable anymore but I still manage to look super sex hot. Thus proving my theory that Santana Lopez can look good in anything. And as soon as I get my record deal, I will buy my own clothing line and never have to pay for an article of clothing again. Suck my cockiness, Papi.

I walk up to the door (a little bit faster than my usual strut because I'm late and not because I'm eager), tuck my aviator sunglasses behind my ears and put them on top my head, while letting my hair hang loose today. I take a deep breath before pushing through one of the double doors.

Right when I enter, I'm hit by the strong aroma of Starbuck's signature coffee scent. I'm actually more of a Dunkin Donuts kind of chica nowadays because A. it's cheaper and B. I love their doughnuts. But Starbuck's isn't so bad. There are definitely more options here. There are surprisingly a lot of people here for it to be so early in the morning (for me, at least). Shouldn't they be at work or something? Oh whatever. They're not who I'm looking for. I scan the place for the small diva and I spot several small brunette but not my small brunette. Well, she's not mine either but…it's just…uh…well…none of them are her, okay?

Well fuck. I don't see her. I know I'm a little late but I still hoped that she would have stuck around for a bit just to see if I would come or not. I could text her. I pull out my Blackberry and start scrolling through my contacts when…Fuck. I don't have her number. I didn't save the one Lady Hummel gave me because I wasn't sure if it was her house or cell number and it would be really stupid texting a house number, right? But seriously, she's not here. And I am such a fuck up. Again. Chalk this one as another relationship that ended before it started. And I didn't even get some hot no strings attached sex out of it.

Well this sucks. Oh well. Might as well get some coffee out of this failed meeting before heading home for some much needed sleep before work tonight.

As soon as I slink my way to the back of the line of four patrons, someone touches my shoulder. "You finally came?" I know that voice anywhere.

"Wanky," I say suggestively. I couldn't resist.

"Same old Santana," she scoffs and I can practically hear her rolling her eyes. I turn around and…

Damn.

Well now I feel like a bum. Well I don't look like a bum but I feel like one. Only Rachel Berry would dress so elegantly in the morning. On a motherfuckin' Saturday no less. Like seriously. Who wears a navy blue sleeveless v-neck mini dress that hugs her in all the right ways, matching blue wedges that complement a nice pair of tanned dancer's legs and her hair down and straightened for just a casual coffee with a "sort of" friend? Rachel Berry. That's who. "Are you done staring Santana?"

What?

Oh shit.

I am staring. Great start Lopez. Way to make her think you're not just interested in her for her body.

"Sorry Berry. You just look nice, is all." What the hell am I saying right now? I really need to get it together if I'm going to make it through this with any of my dignity.

"Why thank you," she says tucking her hair behind her right ear. "Always the flirt, now aren't you?"

"Takes one to know one."

"I assure you that I have not flirted with you," she denies. "At least not since the time you practically gave me a lap dance."

"Oh please. What about by the bar?"

"I didn't flirt with you. We were just talking."

"Well you didn't verbally," lowering my voice to a whisper, "but your eyes and body betrayed you. As usual. Just like right now. " She tries to put on her best glare but when up against the glaring queen; it's more like a pout with squinted eyes. Or in other words; it barely affects me. It's kind of cute that she tried though. "Okay then. Well sorry for being all late and shit," I apologize.

"Last I remembered, you were late to just about everything," she jests with a smirk that I really shouldn't like but hey, she's all cute now and it's sexy as hell. Sue me. I guess Kevin was right (though I will never admit it) but talking to her has made me realize how much I want to get her alone and do some unspeakable things to her on the counter. And the couch. And my floor. And my bed. Well just about everywhere she's willing.

"Well just because I wasn't always ten minutes early to things doesn't mean that I was always late," I counter.

"But arriving ten minutes after the start of a meeting or a program does."

"You should know I never arrive early," I say suggestively. She tries to brush it off by rolling her eyes but the red creeping into her cheeks and ears give her away.

Yup.

Still got it. Still in control.

"Besides, that was back then. I'm different now."

"I've noticed. I'm just not so sure that it's been for the better." She then turns and stands at the new end of the line. Okay, what the fuck was that supposed to mean? We were having such a nice civil conversation for the first since high school and then she goes and says some shit like that. No me gusta.

I turn on my heels, take a few steps and stand next to her in the line. "Um, what the hell is that supposed to mean?" I ask, crossing my arms.

"Oh nothing, Santana," she says totally brushing off my question and obviously what she said like it didn't even happen.

"No. You will not just ignore like you used to do."

"What do you mean by that?" she asks turning abruptly to face me.

"Well what the fuck did you mean before?"

"Mean by what?" Ay Dios Mio. This woman is already driving me crazy and not in the way that I typically prefer. Okay Santana. Try to stay calm. We are in a public place surrounded by a bunch of people. Mostly old fogies, hipsters and business drones but still. Too many witnesses.

"Okay look, hobbit," I take a step closer to her which she doesn't seem to notice because she's now staring at the fucking menu. "Not just a fucking minute ago you were admitting that I have changed but ever the queen of backhanded compliments, you also claimed that I've changed for the worst. Care to explain that Miss Berry?"

"Coffee first. Then talking when we find a table," she says without even turning her head. Well fine then.

We wait in the line silently which is weird as hell. Since when is Rachel berry silent? I mean, I know that I've sort of been disrespectful and inconsiderate of her feelings or whatever and she's obviously pretty pissed at me but if she's mad enough to barely talk to me, she didn't have to agree to meet with me. But she did and now I wants some attention.

It takes only a few minutes for us to reach the counter where some young female cashier is closing the register after putting away the money from the last customer. The cashier girl looks a few years younger than me and Rachel. Dark, almost black hair. Tanned skin. Full lips. Dark brown eyes. Probably Italian. And oddly familiar. She's looking at me curiously and yeah, I've definitely seen her somewhere before. "Hi, what can I get you?" she says politely.

"Well hello. Can I get a caramel frappacino with soy milk. No foam," Rachel says quickly like it's her job as the cashier girl punches in her order on the cash register.

"And for you miss?" she says to me with a smirk that if I wasn't a flirt myself, I wouldn't have noticed it's definitely different from the friendly smile she just gave Rachel.

"She'll have just a black coffee with two sugars," Rachel says before I have the chance to get a word out. Wait, how the hell does she remember that? She must have picked up on my confusion because she turns to face me and asks, "That's how you like your coffee, right? Or has that changed also?"

"You just have to take control of things, don't you?" I jab playfully. She just rolls her eyes. "But you're lucky you're right."

"Well okay. So that's one caramel frappacino with soy milk, no foam and one black coffee with two sugars. Anything else for today ladies?"

"No thank you. Santana?" Rachel asks pulling out a ten dollar bill from her purse.

"No. I'm good." Wait. She is not about to pay for my shit. "No Rach," Where the hell did that come from? "I got this."

"No you don't. I already have my money out. So don't even think about pulling out any money."

"But I can pay for my own shit."

"I know you can but this is easier so stop being hard headed, shut the hell up and let me pay for our drinks," Rachel demands. Whoa. Where did that come from? And why am I not upset? I guess it's because in a way, I've missed her demanding side. I shouldn't be this turned on right now considering I just got publically reprimanded by a midget but…fuck. Demanding Rachel is still sexy as fuck. And even more so now in that dress.

"Fine. You win this round." I put my hands up in surrender and she then puts the ten on the counter. The cashier girl (Alexa according to her name tag) takes the bill, opens the cash register, puts the bill inside and just when she's about to give Rachel her change, the midget puts her hand up and says, "Thanks but keep the change as a tip for being so polite." Alexa looks at her. Then at me. I look at her. Then at Rachel. Then I roll my eyes.

"Well…uh…thanks," Alexa says thankfully.

"Not a problem. Have a nice day." How this woman still manages to be so polite is beyond me. Well she wasn't all that polite to me after a while but I'm a bitch so it makes sense.

"Caramel frappacino with soy milk. No foam," young faced male worker yells from the end of the counter. Damn. That was fast.

"Well that's me. I'll go find us a table," Rachel says before walking away to pick up her order. Okay. What am I supposed to do now? Just stand here like a dumbass? My order isn't ready. There's no one behind me in line and this Alexa chick keeps staring at me. "Um, can I help you?" I sneer, putting my hands on my hips, leaning back on one leg and plastering on my best bitch stare.

"Not really," she says totally unfazed by my glare apparently.

"Okay. Well then.."

"You're name's Santana, right? Santana Lopez?"

"Yeah. Who wants to know?"

"Alexa Moretti."

"Okay, so we've covered the who. Now the how? How you do know my name?" I pause and think about all the ways I could possibly know a cute girl's face but not remember her name. "Oh shit, did I sleep with you and forget to call you or something because if so, I am so sorry but I'm pretty sure I informed you that my one stand deal that doesn't include phone calls the next day." I so need to stop rambling. Especially since she's laughing. Okay so is that a 'No silly, you didn't have sex with me' laugh or a 'Yeah you did and I'm so gonna mess you up for not calling me, you motherfucking bitch' laugh?

"Chill out Santana. We never slept together," she reassures and I breathe a sigh of relief. No need for another Carla incident in the middle of Starbucks.

"So I repeat, how do you know who I am?"

"Coffee. Black. 2 sugars," the young male worker calls from the end of the counter.

"That's me."

"Well how about you give me a call sometime and I'll tell you what you want to know?" Alexa says before grabbing a sharpie from next to her, scribbling a number and her name on a napkin. She then reaches out to hand it to me, all the while, pulling her bottom lip in by the top one.

Oh sweet baby Jesus.

Well it has been a while. I take the napkin from her hand and put it in my pocket.

"I'll think about it." I walk away before she has a chance to respond, putting a bit more sway in my hips as I do. Grabbing my cup for the pimple faced boy who spends a bit too much time staring at my boobs, I make my way to my reason for being here. Said reason is currently sitting on the far side of a two-seater table sipping on her coffee while looking at something on her phone. Time for a little fun.

I slowly and quietly creep up to her side and whisper in her ear, "So who ya talking to Berry?" She practically chokes on her drink and almost falls out of her chair. And I double over laughing because this shit is funny as hell. I have to sit down because I'm literally about to fall over for laughter. It's like that leaning over my seat, hand to chest, eyes watering type laughter.

"Are you quite through?" she asks putting her cup down and bringing her hand to her chest as if to try to steady her breathing. Speaking of her chest, I just noticed that they're peeking out from the top of her dress and I just want to just…shit. I really need to stop. "Yeah," I say trying to quell the final aftershocks of a fit of laughter. "I'm done."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. No more laughing." I pause. "Well none at least your expense."

"Good. Now can we get this over with?" She says it nicely but I can tell that she's only acting nice to be polite. Not nice to be nice.

"Okay. So let's get this over with." I take a sip of my coffee, savoring the warmth of the drink. The bitterness of the coffee and the sweetness of the sugar. We sit silently for a few minute, watching each other drink from our cups or occasionally looking towards the door when a new customer arrives. The silence, though a bit irritating, isn't all that unwelcome. I mean, it does give me a chance to come up with what to say to her. I just hope she doesn't get pissed again and embarrass me in the day light this time.

"Well first I'd like to point out that I see you're still turning heads," Rachel says breaking the silence.

"Watcha mean?"

"You talking with that girl."

"Oh that. You saw that?" I ask like it wasn't obvious the way we were flirting. Well she was flirting. I was just engaging her in conversation.

"Oh please. Of course I saw that. That girl practically dropped her pants and begged you to take her on the counter between the bagels and the muffins."

"What? You jealous?"

"Not even close. Just making an observation," she tries to sound unfazed by my accusation but when she turns her head to look out the window and clears her throat, I know she's lying. I could always pick up on her tells.

"Sure you are. But whatever. This isn't about her. This is about us." I put my cup down on the table.

"I didn't know there was an 'us'." She questions using air quotes.

"There used to be." And let the games begin.

"Santana," she groans, setting down her cup on the table and resting her hands palm down next to it.

"No Berry. My turn to talk." She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms.

"Considering you asked me here, go ahead."

"I choose to ignore that. Anyway, so...I...uh-"

"Let me help you out." Did she just interrupt me? "How about you start by apologizing for disrespecting me the other night and then we can commence our brief reunion properly?"

"Well I was trying to until you decided to open your damn mouth and interrupt me. So can I continue?"

"Only if you don't curse at me the entire time."

"Oh please. I've always cursed. Like you've never fucking cursed in your life. Last I checked, you practically cursed me out the other night." Leaning back in my chair, I cross my arms and grin devilishly. "And you did had a bit of the potty mouth back in the day. But we were under different circumstan-"

"Santana Lopez! If you don't fucking get out what you want to say, I will grab my cup and walk out of this place. And your life again."

"Looks like Bossy Berry is making an appearance today." She puts her coffee down on the table and sighs. Loudly. "Well fine. Look. I'm sorry for coming onto you the other night. I'm sorry if I disrespected you or whatever. I know that after everything that happened between us, it was inconsiderate of your feelings. I'd like for us to start over and talk like adults without all the yelling and bicker-."

"We always bicker."

"And stop with all the goddamn interrupting! Geez Rachel." I really need to stop talking before I say something really fucked up and then where will that get me? I just need to take a deep breath and count to 5…okay, maybe 10 and compose myself before I smash this woman's head on this table.

1…

2…

3…

"Santana, what are you doing?"

"Counting so I don't kill you."

4…

5…

6…

"You cannot be serious."

"I'm very serious. So shut up."

7…

8…

9…

10…

I close my eyes and take one more deep breath. When I open my eyes, Rachel is staring at me like she's not sure whether to ignore me or kill me. "Can I speak now?" she asks.

"Proceed."

"Though not the best apology. Well honestly, the one of the worst, I think it's the best I've ever heard from you."

"Oh thanks."

"Now who's interrupting?" Oh the irony. "My bad. Go 'head."

"So even though I shouldn't, Kurt says I should give you a second chance. And even though I'm not exactly the same person I was when you last saw me, I still believe in giving people second chances so can we just forget about it and move on."

"I can do that."

"Good."

"But before we completely forget about that night, can I properly point out how incredibly sexy you looked."

"Always the flirt."

"You would know."

"Santana. Can we not?"

"Why can't we? We're here to talk and now we're talking."

"Well can we talk about anything but that?"

"What? Why can't we talk about that summer."

"Which summer?"

"The summer you left me?"

"I didn't leave you."

"We broke up."

"Santana, we were never together."

"Oh so three months of movie dates, picnics in the park behind my house, midnight swims or hours of sex didn't mean we were together?" I sneer.

"Santana, I don't want to talk about that."

"And why not? Because it'll remind you of how fucked up it was when you left me?"

"We were never together!"

"Yes we were. And don't you dare bring Finn into this because I don't even want to talk about that jackass."

"But he's was a part of all of what we used to be."

"So you admit there used to be an 'us'?"

"Look." She peers at the clock on her cell phone then takes a very deep breath. "I don't have time for this right now." The fuck? It's not even eleven yet. "So let me make this clear. I've forgiven you for your recent actions and have already gotten over it. If you wish to continue this meeting or just hang out sometime, you now have my phone number."

"Not really. I lost it after i called you."

"Well then, ask Kurt for it again." Okay. What the hell is going on right now? "I'm working on a very important senior class project so I'm super busy these days so text me first to see if I'm available."

"But…" she puts her hand up in the air and surprising, I stop talking.

"No. I'm talking now. If you want to find me; come find me. If you wish to speak with me about anything other than our failed whatever the hell it was that summer, then we can talk. Just give me a call. But right now, I have to go." She takes one last sip of her coffee (which is probably luke warm by now) before standing up. She starts to leave but I stop her by grabbing her by the wrist. It's soft. Smooth. Warm. Just the way I remember. She looks down at my hand wrapped around hers then looks up at me. Those eyes. Goddamn those eyes. I can't tell if they're saying 'Get the fuck off of me' or 'I'm waiting for you to say something to make me stay'. I've never been able to see up or down with this woman. And it irritates the fuck out of me. "Santana?" she says softly. "Please let go of my wrist so I can get to class."

"Just one more question." She doesn't respond. She just looks at me. "Okay. Why did you leave me?"

"Santanaaa," she groans.

"I'm an so serious right now. Why?"

"If I remember correctly, I wasn't the one who disappeared off the face of the planet freshman year of college."

"But it was after you left me."

"San, I don't want to talk about this anymore. So let me go." She pulls

"Fine." So I let go. No need to keep the woman here when she obviously wants to leave.

"Call if you want. If not; I guess I'll see you around. Nice seeing you again Santana."

#####

Rachel POV

Why?

Why did she have to come back into my life? Why did I have to go to me with her? I thought I had left that part of me in the Lima when I came here. I mean. It was just one summer. One crazy summer. That started because of one crazy incident on one even more crazy night. Who would've thought that it would come back to bite me? I guess my dads were right when they said that unresolved mistakes of the past can come back to hurt in the present. But why did she have to bring us up? I should have expected it but of course, I hear her voice and I cave. Isn't interesting how I'm able to resist her with alcohol in my system but can't when I'm sober? Like how backwards is that?

Okay. Time to focus. I have musical to work on and now's the time to think about my relationship with Santana (or lack there of) right now.

After class, I stop by the apartment for a quick snack and a change of clothes before rehearsal. Of course as soon as I open the door,

"So how was the date with Miss Hotness?" Caroline asks. I know it's her because her blond hair is clear as crystal. She's sitting on the couch, facing away from the door (when did they turn the couch around?). I throw my bag by the door and completely ignoring her question, walk past the couch and into my room. I can hear her sigh, followed by foot steps and by the time I get my jacket off, she's standing in my doorpost. "I said, how was your date with Miss Hotness?" she repeats louder and more forcefully.

"It wasn't a date," I say, taking off my jacket and going picking up the pile of spare clothes I set out this morning before I met with Santana.

"Sure it wasn't. So what'd you ladies talk about?"

"Why do you care?"

"Because I want to know if I need to clear the apartment out some night soon so you two can have some," she puts up air quotes " 'alone time'." I will ignore that one. I have more important things to do right now.

"Unzip me," I command, turning my back to her. She sighs and walks over to me. She quickly pulls the zipper down on my dress and as the back opens, I let it fall to the floor before stepping out of it.

"You know, you never answered my question."

"What question?" I ask, picking up my black Wicked t-shirt and putting it on.

"So what did you guys talk about?" I roll my eyes. Here we go. "Did you guys catch up? What was she wearing? Was she all hot and stuff as usual-" she will probably keep going if I don't stop her now.

"One question at a time, C. But seriously, why do you care?"

"Because I care about you. Therefore, I care about your health. And considering how busy you've been lately, it seems like your health isn't big on your concern list. And socializing is good for one's health so-"

"Where the hell are you going with this because we do have somewhere to be in," I look at my watch again, "less 50 minutes, actually."

"You need to get laid."

"Omigod," I say in disbelief.

"What? You do. And you obviously like her."

"I do not like her." Attracted maybe but like? Not really. Not anymore, at least. I'm pretty sure that ship has sailed and sunk by now. "You're crazy. Now are we done?" I pick up my jeans and one leg after another, put them on.

"Almost. Why haven't you asked her to play in Lucy in your musical?" Um, excuse what? Where the hell did that come from?

"What are you talking about?" I ask curious for this rationalization becasue, seriously. What is she playing at?

"Well we already know she can sing. We've heard her sexiness first hand. And you said she could act pretty well back in the day."

"So?"

"Well you also from what you've said about people calling her the 'daughter of Satan', I figured it would make a bunch of sense. And then maybe you guys can spend some time together and eventually end up getting really devilish somewhere naked." Omigod. I don't feel like dealing with this right now. I walk to the door and slip on my NYU flip flops. "Alright. Sure. Just ignore me. That's fine."

"I'm not ignoring you. I'm just choosing to not respond to your ridiculousness," I clarify, turning to leave my room. She follows me out of my room, through the living room and into the kitchen.

"You're only ignoring me because I'm right," she comments, crossing her arms and sitting down at the tiny table in the middle of the kitchen.

"And why do you assume that you're right?" I open the refrigerator, grab my pre-prepared rehearsal snack of a cucumber sandwich, an apple and a bottle of water.

"Because as much as I love Sarah, from my experience, it seems like you want something more for the role. Something or someone with more power. More fire. And Santana seems to have both. And more." She smirks and runs one hand through her blonde locks. "Well that and she's hotter than the sun so that's a definite bonus." I swear this girl is repressed or something because if she mentions how hot Santana is one more time, I just might call her out.

"I have to go," I say, closing the fridge and leaving the kitchen.

"At least think about it!" she calls from the table as I pick up my bag and open the front door.

"Whatever. Just don't be late to rehearsal," I shout back before closing the door with more force than I should.

Santana as Lucy? I mean, the idea had crossed my mind a few times since she decided to sneak her way back into my life but after actually talking to her, the idea swiftly dissipated. What makes Caroline think that Santana and I will be able to work on a project together? Sure we've sung duets together in the past but this project is my life. This is my chance to show the world that Rachel Berry isn't just some little woman with ambition and a big voice.

But Caroline is right. If there was no past between us and some girl named Santana Lopez walked into my audition, sang, danced and acted like I know she can, she would have gotten the role no question. But if I ask her (meaning that I have call her again), will she be willing to ignore our past in order to make this musical an success? Can we put aside our differences to work professionally? I guess the important question is, will I be able to forget the past when it'll be looking me in the face for the next month or so?

Well there you have it. Hope you liked. What do you think about Alexa? She will return but how is up to debate. Also, Santana performing at the Blue Mic club is coming soon. Any votes for what song she should be performing? Any fun things you all want to see in the next update or the near future?
Questions? Concerns? Challenges? Let me know.

Till next time