Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Ryan Murphy.
Santana was thrilled. She always felt particularly pleased when succeeding in bringing down Quinn a few notches, usually as a result of a few more in her bed post. After all, even if she wasn't at the bottom of that god-damned pyramid anymore her post-cheerio's social suicide had left her solidly at the bottom of the social pyramid. Dating Sam would let everyone know that even if she wasn't a cheerio, she was on top and no one could take that away from her.
It was hard to pin-point exactly when she began to resent Quinn. Santana was an only child and so was Quinn, she and her both had the compulsive need to be heard above everyone else; to be seen. For a little while, when they were younger, their similarities had drawn them together. It hadn't lasted long. Gradually Santana came to learn that the spotlight didn't shine as brightly on two people, the spotlight gravitated naturally towards the blonde. She learnt that in the sixth grade when her crush, Gary Thompson, ended up liking Quinn instead. It instilled in her a deep-rooted resentment that stemmed from a deep insecurity that she disguised with sexual prowess, biting sarcasm and recently enlarged breasts. It wasn't a coincidence that Santana had slept with every person Quinn had ever dated. In fact, she slept with Gary a few years ago at a party. Quinn didn't know, she'd probably forgotten by now but Santana had remembered.
That wasn't to say that she hated Quinn. There was part of her that would sometimes remember the time spent in her house, braiding her hair, watching silly princess movies and spending every waking moment with her. She'd feel sad for a little while, but then she'd remember every single time that she'd been overlooked in light of Quinn and the green-eyed monster was the only voice left raging in her ears.
The only mystery left for Santana was what exactly it was Quinn saw in Sam. Sure he was hot, that couldn't be disputed, especially after Rocky Horror, but once he opened his strangely attractive flounder lips she was lost. Although it was something that irked her somewhat she didn't pay it much thought as she intended to engage his lips in something much better than conversation.
Needless to say it had been a good day, and as Santana stepped out of the doors of McKinley and into the crisp spring air she couldn't stop the smug smile forming on her lips. She encouraged it, basking in her victory.
Everything was going perfectly and exactly how she had planned. She really couldn't have hoped for a better outcome. Her pace was quick as she walked towards the school's parking lot, eager to leave the school's campus. The only thorn in her side was that her mother had left with the car, leaving Santana to either take the bus or walk. She considered both options, glancing up to gaze at the clear blue sky and breathing in the cool breeze so that it filled her lungs with the pure air. She decided that she'd never been a fan of public transport anyway and walked away from the garish yellow buses and walked towards the gates leading to downtown Lima.
At first she didn't notice the tall, short-haired boy in uniform standing against the fence surrounding McKinley; she was too busy scrambling through her bag, looking for her iPod. It wasn't until she felt herself covered in a sudden shadow that she looked up. Her initial reaction was confusion, shortly followed by a jumbled rush of irritation, anger and disgust. Another deep, hidden part of her seemed rather pleased that the promise within the text, still burning a hole in her saved messages folder, hadn't been a lie. But this was Santana, so the happy twinge inside her was very swiftly quashed by her trusty inner-cynic. Untroubled by the barely disguised disgust evident in Santana's face Wes smiled widely, flashing a row of perfect white teeth.
"Hi!" He exclaimed jubilantly, fixing her with his warm brown eyes. Santana shuffled uncomfortably under his stare for a second, before regaining her composure, she straightened up and assumed one of her withering bitch stares. She'd always been proud of these. There had once been a rumour that Santana had reduced a boy to tears with a single look, the rumour wasn't entirely true, she'd also made fun of his penis in front of most of the cheerio's squad, but the rumour was much more fun.
Wes held her angry eyes without flinching, even when she adjusted her weight and placed both hands on her hips. He smiled serenely as her lip curled. Eventually she realised that it was going to take more than a few glares. Secretly she was impressed by his resolute strength. She wondered how long it would take to break him. Clearly, after their last encounter, sex was out. That left nothing but scathing hostility.
"Get out of my way prep boy." She growled. To her surprise he stepped to the side without another word. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him and continued cautiously down the street, stepping with care as though she were looking out for any booby traps he might have set her. A pang of disappointment resounded in her chest. It was really going to be that simple?
Of course she should have known he wouldn't give up that easily. He fell into step beside her, matching pace as she sped up or slowed down in her effort to lose him. They walked side by side in silence; although Santana was grinding her teeth together so hard she wondered if he could hear. She hoped he could hear, because he was grating on her just as much. The biting, sarcastic voice in her head was just as silent and this unnerved her. It was one of the first times in her entire life that she was left completely and utterly defenceless, because this boy didn't seem to react to her at all and she couldn't understand how that was possible. He just walked, mute, a serene smile on his face. A violent urge to smack the smile right off his face washed through her. Her fingers twitched.
Eventually Santana stopped and rounded on him, eyes blazing.
"Would you drop the creepy stalker act?"
"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about. I just happen to be going the same way! Plus, aren't stalkers meant to like, you know, stalk? Hidden. Whereas, I appear to be standing next to you." He smiled triumphantly at this. Santana glared at him.
"Where exactly are you going that you'd have to take this particular path?" They were standing in the middle of a residential street, Santana smiled smugly at the spark of uncertainty in his face and the way he hesitated. "That's what I thought." She concluded. He reached out a hand and scratched his head, grinning but clearly at a loss. He looked like an overgrown child that had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
"Touché." For a second Santana felt the babble of laughter making its way to her lips, then she remembered herself and she pressed her lips tightly together. Wes noticed how the shining in her eyes dulled and her face tightened. Before he could register what that meant she'd already began walking away with more speed than he'd ever seen any girl achieve before. Ordinarily people struggled to keep up with her pace, in every sense of the word, but Santana was shorter than Wes and although her legs were certainly admirable, they were no match for Wes' wide stride. He was able to fall into step with her again with ease. He could see how much this irritated her, it was written all over her face. She shot him a look and the amusement dancing in his eyes made her furious. He was enjoying this way too much. She stopped and so did he. She began to walk and he followed. Eventually she wasn't able to contain herself any longer.
"Why can't you leave me alone?"
Wes halted for a second, as she had. He cocked his head to the right and considered her question. He smiled slightly at her, she shuffled her feet, she didn't like the way his eyes were boring down into hers and couldn't understand how he could just suddenly become so serious just like that. His swinging moods always left her one step behind, struggling to keep up. For a second her breath caught slightly as she waited for his answer, leaving herself open for once. Then Wes opened his mouth and shattered the moment.
"What would you say if I told you that you seem lonely?" The other girl prickled angrily, her nostrils flared indignantly and her mouth curved down into a contemptuous sneer.
"I don't need your charity rich boy. I have guys a-plenty, a boyfriend even." She couldn't read the blank expression on Wes' face, but she hoped that the disappearance of his grin meant her words were hitting the right mark. She took a step forward, blocking his path, turning up her face so that his was just inches from hers.
"You get that preppy? Leave me alone!" She was breathing heavily; she couldn't remember the last time anyone had gotten under her skin like this before. Hell, no one had ever gotten under her skin like this before. Wes was still staring her down with his vacant eyes, as she felt herself calm down she became acutely aware of the tension that crackled in the air between them. She felt herself falter a little, her eyes flickering over his face nervously.
Why isn't he saying anything? Why hasn't he left yet?
Wes rolled his eyes at her. That was not the reaction she was going for.
"You are not a charity case." Santana was scandalized, this was the first time anyone other than Brit had ever had that mild a reaction to her biting words. Suddenly she wanted to run, to put as much space between her and the confusing boy before her as was physically possible, but she remained frozen to the spot.
Wes saw the shock in her face. Admittedly he probably found it a lot more amusing than he should. He couldn't help it, he loved ruffling her feathers, he grinned and winked at her; the same stupid, sloppy grin that Santana wanted to knock right off his silly face. She felt her hands clench into fists, but she also felt something else, the warm pooling of blood in her cheeks. Oh hell no.
"Whatever." She replied shortly, resuming her swift pace. She refused to look up at him again, instead she looked straight ahead, adjusting her posture so she walked with her head held high. Wes grabbed Santana's hand. Her eyes bugged out of her skull and she glowered up at him.
"What the hell do you think-"
"I want to be your friend Santana." He cut across her, eyes uncharacteristically serious. That threw her. Conscious effort was made to ignore the irritating clenching feeling in her stomach.
"I don't need another boyfriend." His lips quirked up at that, "And if you want to keep your hand let me go." Wes released her hand at that last angry snarl. He started to laugh heartily. Santana gritted her teeth again, aware that by the end of this confrontation she would have probably ground down her flawless teeth to dust.
To her horror the boy put a surprisingly strong arm over her shoulders and pulled her into him roughly and then proceeded to ruffle her hair. She squirmed and kicked at him yelling out.
"Stop it! I said stop it you moron!Idiot, asshole, bastard! Wes!" Wes let her go as she finally screeched out his name, spitting it out so it sounded even more offensive than the string of swear words. She saw his expression twist into a strange little smile for a second, but then he caught sight of the damage he'd inflicted on her hair. He considered it blankly for a few seconds and glanced down Santana's murderous expression, then back up to her hair. Wes burst out in a fit of hysterical laughter.
"Your...your hair!" he managed to wheeze out between peals of laughter. Santana regarded him without rushing to fix her hair, she stopped in her tracks and got her phone out of her pocket with a blank expression, she flicked up the screen, clicked a few buttons and then jabbed the "Call" button angrily. Wes was still doubling over in laughter as a voice sounded at the other end of the phone.
"Santana? What do you want? Don't you have relationships to sabotage? Spawns of Satan to rear?" Kurt's voice was catty and sarcastic as ever. Santana couldn't help but smile, Kurt always had been able to hold his own.
"Chill out Hummel. This isn't about anyone from McKinley."
"Then why are you calling me?" Kurt asked suspiciously.
"I need you to come and stop your crazy Dalton friend from stalking my ass." She yelled down the phone. Wes had stopped laughing for long enough to register what was going on. He looked extremely pleased with himself. She frowned at him.
"I don't know what you're smiling-"
"Santana what the hell-" Kurt began, Wes bounced over moving his face closer to the phone.
"Hey Kurt!" Wes sang into the receiver, Santana swatted him away with her free hand. He stepped back, crossed his arms and sighed dramatically.
"Oh. Okay." Santana rolled her eyes at the sudden comprehension in Kurt's voice. "I'm handing the phone to David, he's the only one that speaks Wes' particular dialect of lunacy. Hand yours over to Wes if you value your sanity." Santana glanced up suspiciously at Wes before turning her attention back to the phone.
"You want me to give this lunatic my cell phone?"
"Just shut up and do it Santana." Reluctantly she handed the phone to Wes who greeted Kurt in a sunny tone.
"Hi Kurt, what's up?" Santana watched as Wes' expression changed, she heard a muffled voice at the other end of the phone and Wes' grin faltered.
"But David I -" the whine was cut short. More muffled conversation from the other end, Wes sighed severely. "Fine. I said fine David. Yeah, I'll be back soon. I promise geez! Goodbye." Wes rolled his eyes again and ended the call. He handed the phone back over to Santana with a smirk, when she reached to take it from him he pulled it back out of her reach.
Oh he is so not messing with me like this.
She saw red and lunged forward, when she was within Wes' reach he encircled her in a tight hold, pinning her arms to her side and pulling her body against his in a vice like grip. She squirmed and protested but her efforts did nothing to deter the unexpectedly strong teen. Between her cries of outrage Santana tried not to dwell on the heat she felt radiating from Wes' body or the way his surprisingly muscular arms flexed around her. Considering how many boys' Santana had felt against her in much more intimate settings this contact shouldn't have bothered her as much as it did.
"David?" He mused aloud, his chin resting on the mass of dishevelled hair. Santana finally managed to disengage her arms and pushed against his chest, he released his grip. Unperturbed he continued. "Kurt really doesn't play fair..." He pouted for a second; Santana was looking at him in wide-eyed astonishment. She thought the people at McKinley were unhinged, but the boy standing before her with his bottom lip jutting out like a sulking five year old was something else entirely.
"You are completely insane, you know that right?" Wes looked at her with wide eyes, bringing one hand to his chest, the other covering his mouth in shock.
"You flatter me." He gushed with a grin. She shook her head at him, defeated.
"Completely insane." She repeated. Wes laughed and relaxed his dramatic pose.
"I'm leaving, but rest assured, I will be calling you." Santana stared at him, dumbfounded. Before she could begin to argue with him he waved and began walking away. She watched his back, rooted to the spot, as he did. He stopped abruptly and turned around again just before he rounded the corner. She cursed herself inwardly for not escaping when she had the chance.
"Oh, Santana?" he called mischievously. She arched a perfectly shaped brown in reply.
"I said I wanted to be your friend," he emphasised the last word, smiling brightly "not your boyfriend!" He gave another enthusiastic wave before making his way to the street corner and disappeared from her sight.
"What the hell..." Santana muttered to herself. She was frozen in the same spot until she noticed the odd looks people passing on the street were shooting her. With a growing dread she raised her hands to her rumpled hair. As she smoothed out the tangled mess she cursed Wes to hell. Telling herself that next time he came over... then she remembered suddenly that he was a guy and there probably wouldn't be a next time, because they never did keep their promises. On cue there was that slight pain inside her chest again. As she made her way down the street, still tugging at her hair she tried to tell herself that the pain in her chest and the colossal pain in her ass that was Wes weren't connected. Not connected at all.
A/N Hey! Thank you all so much for the reviews and alert adds, they brighten my entire week I swear! I hope you like it, any reviews are amazing and greatly appreciated :)