Hi folks. There are only two chapters more after this one, and I'm already getting sentimental. I'll try to answer quickly a few questions and reviews that you have sent me over the last chapters, and I'm sorry if I miss anyone.
I appreciate very much everyone who helped me build characters. By now I have the 12 girls figured out, and all the participation (from readers, and friends, and my sister) was awesome to me. Thank you!
To those who asked: yes, I'm really Brazilian! :P But I haven't written in portuguese for a while now. Actually, this is the only fic I have written in some time.
Silent12reader, I just wanted to say that your reviews are really cute! And I get so happy cause you always seem to have fun with the different dates. Thanks a lot for reading and reviewing, since the beginning.
Well, for now, that's it. This date is actually my favorite so far, and I reaaaally hope y'all enjoy it too.
10 – Christie, the haunted novelist
So that's the thing about falling in love with your best friend and roommate: there's no point in trying to seduce her.
She's already seen my hangover face. She's actually already pulled my hair back while I vomited. She's already seen me shaving my legs. All my sexy underwear? She helped me buy it. She knows my game, we share romantic moves. You know when you point at your fat thigh so your friend will say "you're crazy, there's no cellulitis in there", even though you know there is? Well, that's what me and Rachel have been doing for the last years.
I have nothing new to impress her. And although she also doesn't have anything new to me, I'm getting impressed by her all the time. How come I never noticed that cute spot in her waist before? And how that black legging of hers makes her ass look... Well, I better don't even go there. Living with Rachel feels like going from heaven to hell in a blink of an eye.
Now that's the REAL thing about falling in love with your best friend and roommate: if she already has a girlfriend, you just don't try to seduce her at all.
She's been in a whole lot of bad relationships. She just found out she's into girls as well. She's spent weeks not talking to me because I was a terrible friend, a terrible person. She's just started treating me normally again, cause her girlfriend seems to light up her mood. What does it matter if I'm having wet dreams every night, like a 13-years-old perv? If Rachel's happy, I can't just be the one to try bringing her relationship down. Doesn't matter how much I want to. And fucking shit, I want to.
But maybe, just this time around, I'll try to make things a little less about myself. It's not easy, but I'll try. Even though that means Kurt will not set me free from the bet and I have to attend to another blind date. Luckily, this one won't be completely mad and I'll get laid.
Yep, that has to happen. There's no way I can go on living around Rachel and maintain my brain, my eyes, my hands, my tongue in control if I don't get laid very, very soon. I mean, I don't want to get in details, but that night with Cornelia was just... lame. I didn't even take my clothes off. It was pretty much embarrassing. I'm not sure if Cornelia came and slept, or if she just passed out. So, summarizing, I haven't had sex since Margareth. I'm going crazy.
As I walk in the coffee shop, I try to remember how it is to feel sexy. Then I look to my reflex in the mirrored door and take a deep breath. I'm Santana Fucking Lopez. It doesn't get much sexier than this.
Right?
There's just one customer in that coffee shop. The place looks cheap and old. And not in an on-purpose-cool way, but in an no-one-feels-like-eating-here way. The bright side is that I don't really have to look for my date.
I just approach her.
"Hi, I'm San..."
"Have you been followed?" She interrupts me, fixing two big blue eyes in my face.
"What- No..."
"Are you sure?" Her eyes are so serious that I look over my shoulders, trying to spot someone hidden behind one of those awful plastic tables.
There's no one there.
"Look, if you saw a blonde woman in a ladder jacket, that's ok." I say, thinking of Sarah. Truth to be told, it's getting very rare for me to go out and bump into her. But I'm not sure if it's because she lost interest in following me or if she just got really good at it. "She stalks me sometimes, but she's harmless." That's a lie. "Ok, she's not. But I can deal with her." That's another lie. "Well, no, I can't. But you don't have to worry." I'm almost certain that's a lie too, but a white one.
"No, I haven't seen anybody, but they never take too long to find out where I am."
"They who?"
"My fans! Just sit here in front of me, so people won't see my face from the sidewalk."
I do so, cause I don't feel like upsetting crazy people today.
"As I was saying, I'm Santana Lopez."
"I figured that much. I'm Christie Shatter. Nice to meet you."
We shake hands almost like two normal people. Except that Christie won't stop looking around, as if she's waiting for the SWAT team to enter the coffee shop and take the skinny waiter down behind the counter. I mean, he's really skinny, and I don't know why Christie's looking at him like he's such a threat.
"Did you tell someone we were meeting here?"
"Yes, I did."
"I specifically asked you not to!"
"That's exactly why I did it. What kind of person besides a psychotic rapist would tell someone to make a secret out of a date?"
"A famous person!"
"Don't worry. I didn't post it on my Facebook that I was out to meet the most incredible world-wide famous novelist Christie Shatter. I just told a couple friends."
"You'd be surprised with how fast the word might spread."
I'm surprised that she didn't catch the sarcasm in my voice. Yes, she's a novelist and has published a few novels already, but she's really far away from being world-wide famous. I actually had never heard of her before Kurt gave me a few notes about my next date. Really, if you google her name only three pages come up. How famous can she be? I wonder if I should tell her that.
Then I remember I'm trying to get laid, so I say:
"I know how it feels like being stalked. In the beginning of this year, I had a date with this girl and she got totally crazy. She followed me around everywhere and..."
"Sweetheart, it's very cute that you're trying to empathize, but I don't think you can see the big picture here." Christie says, her eyes wondering through the place all over again. "When my fans get the clue I'm out of home, they just crowd the place. And then I have to sign books until I feel like my hand will fall down from my arm."
"Seems like you're a big hit."
"Oh, don't get me wrong. I do love my fans. I keep up with them online. I'm just not much of a... social person."
"Really? I would never have guessed." I say, smiling at her. She smiles back, no sarcasm in her horizon.
"I'm sorry, I can't stay here. I tried. I can't." Christie says, after turning her head to the sides to check one more time at our lazy waiter. So lazy he didn't even come to take our orders. "I feel like my fan club will show up at any moment and I won't be able to give you my whole attention. What I fully intend to do. So, please, come with me."
"Where?"
"To my apartment. I live just down the block."
I raise an eyebrow, thinking about it. Christie's already standing. I take a long look at her. She has a heart shaped face, with butt chin, what's kind of cute. Dark hair, big light blue eyes. And an actual hot body. Of course, she's potentially mad – but also will I be if I don't have sex soon. So I decide I don't have much to lose.
"Ok, I'll go. But first I'll warn a few friends."
Christie smiles fully.
"Sure. But do that on the way."
We get out of the coffee shop as I text Rachel and Kurt about my new dating place.
"I'm going to Christie's place. She thinks her fans are chasing her in the street. Can someone come get me later, if I don't give a signal?"
"I'm downtown. I can get you after rehearsal so we go home together."
"Deal. Thanks, Rach."
"See ya."
"Can you move a little faster, please?" Christie asks me, even though we're already walking in a fast pace.
"Excuse me, I'm on heels."
"I really don't care if you lose a shoe, Cinderella. I just wanna get home safe."
So now we're almost running down the block. What does this woman write about, anyway? I mean, Stephen King might have motive to worry about what kind of fans he has. But doesn't Christie write historical romances? How crazy could forty-years-old-single-ladies be, to hunt their favorite author like this?
To be fair, once we get in her apartment and Christie locks the door behind us, she looks like a completely different woman. Her shoulders go down, her forehead's not wrinkled anymore and she's breathing like a normal person again.
The problem is… I'm not.
"So… Can I get you anything?"
"Yes! Water and a Xanax, cause you just got me nervous." And I mean it. This woman's nuts. She just made me run a whole block, in high heels, as if the inquisition was up to get us. And there's fucking no one in the street!
"Ok, wait a second..." She vanishes for a while and I sit at her couch, trying to get my heart to beat slowly again. A few moments later, Christie comes back with two bottles of water and a meds box.
"Are you sure you want a Xanax?" She asks, sitting by my side, her hands going through the box in her lap. "Because I also have Valium and this..." She takes a cartouche out for a second, and then drops it again. "Oh, no, not this one... That's illegal." Christie looks at me, mindfully. "So... What's gonna be?"
Shit! She takes things pretty literally. Shouldn't a novelist be able to distinguish language figures, like irony? God! I'm starting to believe Kurt has a serious social issue. Where does he find this people, for God's sake?!
"Well, at a second thought, I'm already feeling better."
"Oh, ok. I'll just leave the box around." She says, placing it in the small table in front of us.
"So, Christie… May I ask how did you get in this date? Is it some kind of research for your new romance?"
"No, no…" She laughs, sympathetically. "Actually, a friend of mine just thought I'd like you."
"Kurt, I suppose."
"Ahm, no. I don't know Kurt. I was talking about Katherine."
"Sorry, who?"
"Katherine. She's my editor, but also a close friend of mine."
"Oh my God!"
How humiliating is this? My very first date is now setting me up! I can't believe Kurt sent me to this date arranged by fuckin Katherine, the closeted heterosexual! Jesus! There's no love in that unicorn romance writer heart!
"What is it?"
"Nothing. It's just… I remembered I have to kill someone later."
"Oh. Yeah, that happens to me all the time."
That was freaky.
"What?"
"In the books, of course." Christie laughs. "We're talking about fiction, right?"
"Sure…"
I better don't leave clues around about Lady Hummel's murder.
"So, Santana… Tell me a little about yourself."
"Well, I…" just wanna know what to say so I can fuck you. "am a publicist. I take myself very seriously and I try to always keep my promises. Even when that means I have to go to a whole lot of blind dates."
"A whole lot?"
"Yes. I could write my own novel about all the women I met this year."
"Is that so?" Christie grins, amused.
"Unfortunately, publishing houses would go crazy trying to figure out where my book fits in. Is it a love romance? No way. Is it a scary novel? Maybe. Is it tragedy? Is it comedy? Very hard to define."
Christie's laughing and I chuckle too, because it feels good to make someone have fun. I finally open the bottle of water she brought me and take a sip. Christie's eyes are still on me.
"Now it's your turn."
"What do you want to know?"
"Well, to start… Why so many candles?" I ask, looking around. There's no light on, the curtains are shut, but there are a lot of candles spread by the living room.
"Oh, I was trying to get in the mood for my new romance. It takes place in the Victorian England."
"I see." I raise an eyebrow. "In that case, maybe you should trade this magic box of yours for one with leeches and herbs, that I believe it was what they used by then."
"You're right, but I guess I'm not ready to drown this much in the history just yet." Christie grimaces and I giggle.
"Smart."
So we chat. Christie's very intelligent and easy to talk to. She doesn't sound like the crazy chick in the coffee shop. Maybe because she has so many lockers on her door that a troll would have to want an autograph so a fan would come in. Now she looks comfortable and at ease. And I tell her about Kurt, our bet, a few dates. She thinks it's all very funny – what kinda makes me wanna slap her, but I don't, because I wanna fuck her. Maybe I'll slap her while I fuck her, afterwards. Some people like it.
And she talks about her books and her characters, and about this crazy amount of fans she has and that won't leave her alone. I'm really not sure of how much of this part is true, and how much is as fiction as her novels, but I also don't care. She tells me about Katherine and that she's getting married – yes, I said MARRIED – with Samuel in December. Isn't it lovely? I should be the maid of honor.
But it seems like instead of an invitation, Katherine sent me a new date. At least this one is gay. I think so.
"You're gay, right?"
"I'm not a fan of labels, but…"
"No, no, no. I just wanna know if you like women. In your bed. Naked."
Christie looks a little shocked by my line, but I won't be wasting my time around someone who likes check shirts and think breasts are cute – and believes that's what makes a lesbian.
"Yes. I am sexually attracted to women."
"Just to be very clear, you're saying…"
"I like pussy. Yes, I do, very much. Thank you."
Then we stare weirdly at each other. Then we start laughing.
"I'm sorry. It's just that I dated a heterosexual, a virgin, a married woman, and some weird people, in general. And I've learned to get to my point as quickly as I can."
"Fair enough." Christie leans a little on the couch, getting closer. "What is your point, Santana?"
The one inside your panties? That is my most direct answer, but I'm no fool. This woman writes novels, she sure likes a little romance. So I drag myself a bit closer, biting my lower lip as I stare at her.
"You see, Christie… The point I want to get to is the point where you are…"
She smiles at me and I touch her hair delicately. Christie smells good, like candle wax. I wonder if she'll moan in my mouth if I just kiss her out of the blue.
No, she won't.
"What is it?" I ask when she narrows her eyes and shakes her head a little.
"Your eyes..." Christie says, looking at me intently. "They are like a midnight sky of a mystic evening. You know something is about to happen, but you don't know what it is. You can feel it in the air, like the electricity of a storm doomed to fall. And if I just keep looking closely at your eyes... If I don't miss a thing, I just know sooner or later a lightening will strike me."
Whoa! Things just got pretty intense.
"Really? Do you see all that in my eyes?"
"Yes, I do."
"You're high on Xanax, aren't you?"
Christie laughs.
"Maybe."
"I would go for 'totally'."
"That doesn't change anything." Christie touches my chin briefly.
"You know you just used a lot of big words and metaphors just to describe my eyes, right?"
"I like to express myself in that way. It makes it all much more… feelable."
"You just made this word up."
She chuckles.
"I guess I did. But you got me. When you search for a different way to describe how you feel… sometimes you manage to find out how you really feel. It's an awesome thing."
"Really?"
"Yes. You should try it."
"I don't think so."
"Why not?"
"I wouldn't know how to put things… in that way."
"It's a natural thing, Santana. Just find it in yourself."
"I'm not a novelist."
"But you're a woman. You know love, right?" I don't answer to that and Christie raises an eyebrow. "Come on. You have been in love before, haven't you?"
I really don't wanna go there. I don't want anything to do with love. I just want sex, goddammit! What do I have to do to get laid in this life?
"Please, tell me!"
Well, it seems like I have to talk about love.
"Yes, I've been in love before."
"Good. Now think about this girl."
Just what I've been trying not to do.
"Christie…"
"I want you to describe her to me."
"Why?"
"It's an exercise." She beams, confident. "Come on!"
"Ok… She's short. Brunette."
"No!" Christie shakes her head. "Not like this. You're just describing me some random girl."
"Well, you don't know her. It'll sound like a random girl!"
"Not if you tell me about her. I don't wanna know what makes her just like every other girl. I want to know what makes her different. How she is, and no one else could be. Describe me that."
"I don't feel like doing this."
"Oh, play with me. I'm trying to prove a point."
I sigh, but as I'm still trying to prove her point – yes, that one inside her panties – I agree with it. So here I am again thinking of Rachel. What is it that makes her special? Well, she does have quite a big and tasty mouth, but I don't think Christie wanna hear about that. Oh, Jesus, she has the sexiest belly I've ever seen and every time she walks around the house with her shirt off, I almost drool myself. Yet again, not what I should say.
"Uhm… She sings. And before you say I'm describing any singer, let me tell you how she sings." Christie leans on the couch, listening. "She sings like every song has a purpose. Mostly, the purpose is to impress the rest of the world with her powerhouse voice. But sometimes… Sometimes, when Rachel sings, and the purpose of the song is to make you feel loved… Then you really find out what being loved is all about. And when she sings to amuse you, you sure get amused. And when she sings to hurt you, you cry. Because Rachel can sing with everything, every feeling known by humankind."
I know Christie's just staring at me now and I try to shut up, but she makes a move, telling me to go on.
"And when she sings, she puts her hand in front of her stomach… I know it's probably a breathing movement, or something, but it really looks like she can just feel all that magic coming from inside her, you know?" I smile, picturing this in my mind. "She has too much inside of her. There's no losing Rachel's love. Once she decides she loves you… That's it. You're done for the rest of your life. If you need her, she'll be there. Doesn't matter if you don't even deserve it, if you hurt her, if there's no real place for you in her life. She'll make room. There's no losing Rachel's love…"
"And there's no getting over Rachel, as it seems."
Then I look up at Christie and she has this touched smile curving her lips. Her eyes are glimmering. I'm completely aware I just said too much. Christie moved away in the couch. And I'm not getting laid today.
When I get Rachel's text, like an hour later, telling me she's just down the street, Christie has already passed out in the couch (I knew she had some Xanax on). I read the first three chapters of her last book and I'm hooked. On my way out, I blow off all the candles and close the door quietly behind me.
Maybe I didn't get laid, but you know what? Christie got herself a true fan.
I get in the car and Rachel smiles at me.
"How was your date?"
"Alright, I guess."
"You don't sound very excited about it."
"That's because I'm not." I say, as she starts the car and we go away.
And there she is: Rachel being Rachel. Just the same as every year that I've known her. She drives too slow, she stops at the yellow traffic light. She holds the steering wheel with both hands. I know all that. I've seen all that. But now I also see how her legs move sensually to press the break. I pay attention at the curve of her neck when she stretches to check on the rearview.
There's nothing new. But everything is new.
"What are you looking at?" Rachel asks as she stops at another traffic light.
"Nothing."
"You're staring." She wrinkles her forehead.
"It's just…" that I love you. And I want you so bad.
"What?"
"Your eyes…"
"What about my eyes?"
"They are like a… midnight sky of a mystic evening. When you just… You just know something is about to happen, but you're not sure of what it is. I can feel it in the air, though, like I can feel the electricity of a storm doomed to fall. And if I just keep looking closely at your eyes... If I don't miss a thing, not a thing, Rachel… I just know sooner or later a lightening will strike me."
"Wow… Santana…" Rachel's eyes are big and bright.
My eyes go down a little, to her mouth. It's so pinky, full, desirable. We lean to each other, no thoughts in mind. Just feelings. I can almost hear the moan she'll release when I finally kiss her… But, instead, we hear some honks and shouts. Rachel pulls herself back, like she woke up from a dream, and starts the car again.
The moment just passed us by, but I'm not sad.
I smile to myself, looking through the window to the grey sky. I can actually feel the electricity of a real storm approaching. But in this car it is already raining.