A/N: Sorry guys, school is piling up like crazy and I've been trying to get a portfolio together to send away to the art school I'm applying for. I got midterms coming up, starting October 17th, so I'm going to be horribly busy this month. I really wish I had more time to write, but unfortunately that is not the case. I will try not to make you guys wait so long for the next chapter, but I really can't make any promises. School comes first. On the upside... I believe I will be able to get the next chapter of Summer Nights up tonight too if you follow that. No I haven't forgotten about that story, it's apparently impossible for me to write 2 stories at the same time and I really love this one.
A/N2: I think I wrote this chapter 4 or 5 times... for some reason it was really hard. Maybe because I'm just so distracted with school and real life, but everything I wrote sounded terrible, so I hope this turned out alright! Thanks for reading!
The first thing I did, once I was safely tucked away in my room, was send a text message to Quinn to see how Santana was doing. About twenty seconds went by before my cell erupted into song, signalling a call coming through, and I didn't even have to check the screen to know it was Quinn.
"It's Brittany... Bitch," I said, using the greeting I had started after finding new love for Britney.
"Hi," Quinn said curtly, and I could hear Santana's over dramatic sobs in the background.
"I just don't understand what happened," I heard her sob and it sounded like she was sobbing into Quinn's shoulder, "Just one minute you're-you're hating someone and you're planning their death and then the next-the next-"
"Brittany," Quinn said, her voice sounding strained as Santana continued to incoherently sob, "I need your help."
"Is that Brittany," Santana said, her sobs halting and I heard her sniffle.
I sighed as I thought it over, slumping down onto my bed. I felt like it would be a major betrayal to Rachel if I went, and yet I still felt a loyalty to the Unholy Trinity. I was still angry with Santana too, but we tended to work things out better when we talked, or shouted at each other.
"Britt," Quinn said and I realized Santana's cries had started up once again, "You still there?"
I went to brush my hand through my hair, nervously, but forgot about the cast and ended up knocking myself in the forehead with it. I decided to blame that one on Stupid Brittany.
"Yea," I sighed again, getting to my feet, "I'm on my way."
When I got to Santana's, her and Quinn were both a mess. They were sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor, several cartons of different flavoured, half melted, ice cream created a circle around them, and Santana was licking at her spoon while quietly sobbing against Quinn's shoulder. Once Santana noticed my presence her silent sobs immediately vocalized and she began to babble incoherently, while Quinn's eyes were screaming at me to save her.
That was about the moment when I realized I should never have come at all. I wasn't sure what I thought I would accomplish by coming, but I was suddenly realizing that being there could only make things worse.
"What is wrong with me," Santana cried, in a brief moment of clarity, mascara running down her cheeks and puddling on the white tiles beneath her.
"There's nothing wrong with you," Quinn sighed, her voice sounding tired and strained, demonstrating to me how long she had been at this with her.
"I'm in love with-," Santana paused staring up at me and then wrinkling her nose in disgust, as if saying it out loud was physically too painful for her, "I-I I'm in love with-"
"Rachel," I finished for her, unable to bear another stutter, especially at my girlfriend's expense. That would be the reason why I shouldn't have been there. It didn't even make sense. What was I going to do? Convince her that it wasn't that bad to be in love with my girlfriend? Rachel was mine and although I was pretty confident that she wouldn't leave me for Santana, I still felt like I was competing with the guys like Finn and Puck for her attention. The last thing I needed was to add another girl to the mix, not to mention my supposed best friend.
So, really, what on earth was I doing there?
"I shouldn't be here," I sighed, shaking my head as I quickly turned to leave. I heard the spoon clatter to the floor behind me and suddenly I felt Santana leap onto my back from behind. Her arms wrapping tightly around my neck as her legs locked around my waist.
"Stay, Britt," she sniffled, pitifully, in my ear and I could feel the tears on her cheek as she pressed it to mine, "I need my Britts."
"You don't need me," I said, rolling my eyes. If anything I was going to make things worse, "And I really don't need to hear you talk about my girlfriend like she's a leper."
"This is hard for me," Santana said, dropping down from my back and moving in front of me, "You may be comfortable with dating the girl who we deemed to be the school loser for the fourth year running, but this is completely new to me."
"San," I said, shaking my head and folding my arms across my chest, "This isn't new to you, you just refused to see it."
"What are you talking about," Santana demanded, her eyes narrowing at me.
"Come on, Santana. You've been in love with Berry since freshman year when she found you crying in the janitor's closet and stayed with you, holding your hand," Quinn replied, stepping beside me. "You wouldn't shut up about how much of a loser she was and made us all start calling her 'Man-Hands'. It was so obvious."
I had never heard this story before and it was a little odd hearing that this happened without my knowledge. I had always believed that Quinn originated that nickname for her, but I had never really thought to wonder where it came from. Quinn was creating new horrible nicknames daily, so it never occurred to me to ask how it started. I began to wonder if Quinn had actually come up with any of them or if it had been Santana this whole time.
"I didn't know about that," I said, turning towards Quinn.
"It was disgusting how she was drooling all over her," Quinn groaned then quickly recollected herself, remembering that Rachel was now my girlfriend and added, "I mean, disgusting because she was pretending that she hated her when it was obvious she totally loved her."
I looked back over at Santana who was staring blankly at the wall behind us, her mouth had fallen open slightly as if she was about to say something at one point, but was now frozen in thought. After a minute past and Santana hadn't moved or even blinked, Quinn and I exchanged a look before I gently gave Santana's shoulder a nudge.
"I think you're right," Santana said softly after another minute had passed, "All this time, all this energy that I had been putting towards hating her, it's just been one massive cover up."
I was starting to get that uneasy feeling again. Now that Santana had realized she had these feelings, I wanted to make sure that she understood that Rachel was mine and there wasn't going to be some fight for her because I already had her.
"I'm glad you've had this epiphany," I said softly, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, "But I want to be clear that Rachel is off limits. She's my girlfriend, San, and I really don't want to fight with you over this anymore. More than anything, I just want us to be friends again. All three of us."
"Me too," Quinn nodded, wrapping her arms around each of our shoulders, "Your fighting is totally throwing off the Unholy Trinity dynamic and this is our last year. We should be ruling this school together, not sinking to the bottom of the barrel with our feuding."
"I miss us too," Santana agreed, "But I don't know how to just push these feelings aside now that I know what I know."
"You've been doing it for the past three years," I reasoned, but I knew that hiding feelings like that for someone was definitely no easy task and I also knew that once Santana got attached to someone, her tunnel vision could be deadly. "Please, San, for me."
"Sure," she smiled, leaning her head on Quinn's shoulder, but I could see in her dark eyes that she was not at all ready to drop this. If my thinking was right, I was going to need to have a talk with Rachel about everything.
I made it to the competition site by six-thirty the next morning and the entire place was deserted, which I was very thankful for. It looked like it was mostly set up and ready to go and only had a few touch ups to finish off today before the competition began tomorrow.
I slowly walked my bike to the start line of the supercross course and sat down on my bike. I sat there for a few minutes, eyes closed, just taking deep breaths and concentrating on what I was about to do. I could almost hear Rachel screaming at me not to do it, that I could get hurt and end everything. Part of me wanted to listen to her, but there was that dread still inside me that I might only get one chance at this.
Finally, I opened my eyes and stared hard down the course, as much of it as I could see from my angle. I could do this. It wasn't my fear holding me back, it was Rachel's. I kick started the engine, testing the movement in my wrist as I revved it, trying not to wince at the pain that erupted. Braking was going to be an issue too, I realized as I stretched my fingers out to grasp the brakes. I was more than determined though, and no amount of pain was about to hold me back. I put my helmet over my head and leaned forward into my bike, lifting my feet at I began to accelerate through the course.
The first hill was small and the impact absorbed by my wrist wasn't so bad, but the next hill was quite larger and consisted of hitting the tops of two more smaller hills on the way down. I hit the last hill hard, allowing too much of the shock to be absorbed into my arm and I immediately felt the cast crack and cut painfully into my skin. I stopped my bike, kicking it to the ground angrily as I threw my helmet at it. It wasn't fair. I knew I could do this. I knew that I could win this entire competition.
I felt something warm begin to trickle down my arm and I took off my leather jacket to find a piece of fiberglass stuck deep in my arm. I could hardly even feel it I was so angry.
"Fuck," I screamed in frustration, kicking my bike again.
"Brittany," I heard someone call from behind me, startling me and I almost fell over when I spun around to see who was there.
It was Rachel, sitting in the front row of the stands, watching me with a sad and guilty look on her face.
"What are you doing here," I asked, trying to calm myself down so I didn't start to flip out on her.
"You told me yesterday you were going to try running the course, I was worried," she said, moving her legs over the fencing that separated the stands from the course. I wrapped my good arm around her waist before she could jump down on her own and hurt herself, and then pulled her against me, slowly lowering her. "Are you alright?"
Hearing those words, I broke. I felt like my dreams were slipping away, if I didn't have motocross, I had nothing. I buried my face into her shoulder and began to cry, falling against her as she leaned back against the fence, somehow supporting the majority of my weight with her small frame.
"It's okay," she soothed, rubbing her hands up and down my back. I could feel her begin to tremble slightly and I knew she was starting to cry too, "Please don't cry, Britt. I don't know what to do when you cry."
I couldn't stop, though. All I could do was wrap my arms around her tighter, dig my fingers into her skin and clutch her like if I let go, I would be letting go of everything I had.
"This isn't the end, Britt," Rachel continued, "You're going to have many more chances to prove to the world how amazing you are. One competition is nothing. When your arm is healed we can take a road trip somewhere and find an even better competition than a tiny Lima one."
"The season is over," I sighed, pulling away from her neck, knowing that my face had to be a mess of tears and possible drool, "It's over until next year."
"I'm so sorry, I should've moved out of the way," Rachel said, tears streaming down her own cheeks, "This is all my fault."
"Stop," I shouted at her, "I'd do it again. You mean more to me than this."
"I do," she asked, her voice sounding so small as she looked up at me with her big brown eyes.
"Of course you do," I sniffed, pulling her against me and sliding down the fence until we were both sitting in the dirt and leaning back against it. "You know how much you mean to me."
"Tell me," she said slowly, shifting so she could look me in the eyes, expectantly.
She placed her hand on top of my forgotten broken cast and I licked my dry lips as I stared back at her.
"Rach," I said, pausing as I realized what I was about to say to her and yet I wasn't nervous at all to say it, "I lo-"
"Oh my god," she interrupted, her attention turned downwards and I followed her horrified gaze. Somewhere between the anger and tears, the blood had managed to paint almost my entire arm, from the elbow down. The cast was almost completely split down the middle and I could suddenly feel the piece digging into my arm near the top of the cast.
"Pull it out," I groaned, holding my arm out to Rachel who only stared back at me with the widest of eyes.
"I-I can't," Rachel cried, cringing from the thought.
I sighed, using my right hand and gripping the large piece of fiberglass firmly between my fingers. I closed my eyes, slowly counting down from three in my head and when I reached zero, I pulled at the piece as hard as I could. I felt the piece move out a few millimetres, but my fingers slipped and couldn't get it out all the way.
I opened my eyes, fresh tears leaking out the corners of my eyes from the pain, and I really did not want to try doing that again. Rachel's delicate fingers were suddenly on my arm and I studied her face as she gave me a sure nod.
"On three," she whispered, holding the fiberglass tightly with one hand and stroking the back of my upper arm with her other, "One... two... three."
On three, I closed my eyes and felt the piece rip all through my skin and out of my arm. I opened my eyes as I let out an unsteady breath, the pain in my arm almost unbearable now. Between the lack of support on my wrist from the broken cast and the slash in my arm, the pain was blinding.
"Are you okay," Rachel asked softly and I watched as she tore a strip of material from the bottom of her shirt.
"Not really," I said and I was crying again. I leaned my head down on her shoulder, watching my arm as she tied the strip of material tightly around my cut.
"We need to get you to the hospital," she sighed, getting to her feet and helping me up with her.
"I don't think I've ever seen you in sweat pants," I said, staring down at the grey sweatpants that were rolled down low on her hips. It was amazing how she could make anything look good.
She blushed lightly, "I didn't change after going through my morning workout."
That was when I realized that her hair was tied back in a tight ponytail and there was a light pink headband keeping any strays that might want to fall, away.
I was about to tell her how amazing she looked, how beautiful she was, but she began to speak before I could say anything.
"It's nice that you give me so many compliments," she said, chewing on her lip nervously as her eyes met mine, "But I think you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. Inside and out."
I watched her walk outside the track, towards her dad's car, lost and almost stunned by what she had said to me. Finally I gathered myself up, and chased after her, jogging up behind her as her hand grabbed for the door handle on her car.
"Rachel," I said, spinning her around until her back was pressed up against the car. I cupped her face with my good hand, tracing the little moles on her cheek before drifting down to her lips where I let my thumb drag across her full lips. I swallowed, feeling the words once again on the tip of my tongue, but this time there would be no interruptions, this time there would be no uncertainties. I don't think there ever really were any.
I sucked in a breath, moving my lips closer to hers but keeping my eyes locked on her own, "I love you, Rachel."
Her mouth fell open slightly as her brow furrowed together and I knew I had caught her entirely off guard. It felt so good to say it though, even if she didn't feel the same and didn't say it back. It just felt so good to finally know where I was and understand my own feelings.
Her eyes were searching mine and she had a doubtful look in her eyes as if she wasn't sure if she should believe me or not.
"I know it's soon," I said, feeling like I should explain, "I know we haven't been seeing each other for very long, but I don't even know how to explain it. I feel like I've been with you all my life and I already can't imagine living without you. I don't mean to scare you, but when I lie in bed at night I can't sleep because images of our future keep playing over and over again in my head like home movies. I just realized that I don't want to be anywhere except beside you."
I stopped speaking because her eyes had filled up with tears and they were beginning to pour down her cheeks. Her eyes had fallen to the ground and I was suddenly wondering if I had read everything wrong. It was possible that I had just freaked her out with all this future talk, when she was happily living in the safe new relationship we had just started.
It was certainly far too early in the relationship to be talking about love, but for the first time in my life I could feel it. I could feel the burning in my chest and the uncomfortable ache in my bones that told me I needed this girl. She was the only thing I could think of, the only thing I dreamed of, she had taken over my entire life and turned it upside down in a matter of weeks. Any longer and I couldn't imagine how much more she could affect my life.
I heard her sniffle as her eyes stayed fixed on the gravel below our feet and I could see the tears dripping off her chin. I was crying again too. I really wasn't normally an emotional wreck, but being around Rachel seemed to have this wild affect on my tear ducts.
"Rachel," I whispered, my thumb wiping away the tears on her cheeks, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
Her hand covered my mouth before I could finish speaking and she finally lifted her chin so I could see her tear stained face. She bounced lightly on her toes as she bit down on her bottom lip, fresh tears escaping out of the corners of her eyes as her hand left my lips. It caught on my shirt and she pulled me towards her, closing the small distance between us as our lips met in the gentlest kiss we'd ever shared. Her lips tasted salty from the mixture of our tears and yet, oddly enough, it was the sweetest tasting kiss I'd ever had, topping any flavoured chapstick she owned. It was real. The emotion behind it was so real and we could both feel it. The kiss never deepened, it was just a simple array of our lips softly locking and then releasing moments later. Slow and steady and every once in awhile another tear from either one of us slipped in between and salted the kiss further.
"I love you so much," I whispered in between kisses, no longer ashamed of how much I needed another person.
She cupped my face in her hands, pushing me back slightly so that she could look in my eyes and whispered the words I was praying for, "I love you too, Brittany. I think that I always will."