Chapter 20
(Brittany)
.
.
"I've had a really hard year and I turned to God a lot for help. I for one, wouldn't mind saying thanks."
Quinn's voice made Santana stir beside me.
"Thanks for what? That it didn't come out a lizard baby?"
.
.
"Why did you say that to Quinn?" We're sitting on separate ends of the room, me in my chair by the desk and Santana in my bed. She stops chewing her pen but keeps looking into her work book.
"What do you mean?" I swallow.
"I mean, that comment about Quinn's lizard baby." She looks up.
"Well, Puck was the father. He calls his dick the Puckasaurus. It's lucky she didn't end up with one." She smiles a little cockily. Not like when she said it. She'd had that protective voice. She knew I wasn't much for God, but I… I'm not sure what made her act like that. And I needed to know.
"…why don't you like God?" Now Santana's eyes are really on me, and she sits up.
"I do. You know I do. Grandma always takes good care of me; she's taught me how important He is."
"And you don't care if I don't believe in him? I mean, otherwise I would've had a pet unicorn in my garden years ago." I smile a little. She shakes her head slowly, eyes not leaving mine.
"No. I really don't care. Especially not now." I crinkle my nose.
"Now?" She sighs, looks away.
"That report you gave to Kurt, for his dad… that was more than God would've ever done for him."
I swallow. "…Because of what he said about God in Glee club?"
"Yeah. The churches here in Lima are so… OLD. The priests actually do talk a lot about faith, and God loving all his children, but at the same time they preach about how gay is wrong. How a boy or… or a girl loving a person of the same sex is wrong. Is a sin. As bad as mur-…"
There is a long silence, where I feel a lump in my throat. Then she looks up, straight into my eyes.
"How can loving someone be so wrong?" I ask her. I remember what I wrote on the card for Kurt… Heart attacks are just from loving too much. I'm actually not sure how I haven't gotten one myself yet.
She suddenly looks like she wants to shake her head, shake away this conversation, like it's something wet that is ruining her hair.
"Well, something like that. Whatever." She looks back into her book, but instead of staying where I am, I walk up to her and sits down beside her on the bed.
"San, do you feel sorry for Kurt? Or is it about something else?" I give her thigh a reassuring pat. That was stupid.
She looks up at me, my hand still on her thigh. I rip it away.
"Ops. Sorry." Santana's eyes don't leave me though. I smile nervously. I know that look. She looks angry. Her eyebrows are pressed together and her mouth is close to a sneer. I quickly need to find something less serious to talk about. I don't want her to scold me. I don't want another lesson in how we're "just friends". I know God is a touchy subject. Santana has been weird since her mom came back. She's been... I've been trying to tolerate it, be sweet as always, but at the end of the day I am at some receiving end of all of the little things that bother her. She still protects me from everyone and everything. But there's a difference now. She can't protect me from herself.
"It's okay. I'm just so… frustrated when he's not around." She looks away, breathing out through her nose. It's almost Bailey-like, a little snort. She has been spending a lot of time with Puck lately. More than once she's told me he's a good distraction.
"That' okay. You know I'm here if you need anything…" I let my voice seep out in the air between us. Oops again. What did I just say? I offered myself. I couldn't help it. Her eyes were a deep shade of brown today, not the usual warm coke. She smelled faintly of almonds and ginger bread. Her dark eyelashes made her eyes look like they were closed while she seemed to be reading her book very intently. Santana's skin was the usual glow of someone spending a lot of time in the sun. Her cheerios costume was squeezing her in all the right places, and all I could think was that just looking at her like this was the one thing I could never get tired of. Then she looked up, into my eyes and I realized that was the one thing I would never, ever get tired of. Hummingbirds and chocolate. It was as if that first kiss all over again, and all we were doing was looking at each other. I imagined seeing all sorts of things in there, but in reality I think I really didn't see anything at all. Until my hand was back on her thigh.
Her eyes flickered. She didn't look down, but she swallowed and her skin turned into goose bumps under my touch. I felt my cheeks grow a little flushed and my middle became very hot.
I moved my hand a little, letting my fingers travel up and down her skin. Santana's breathing became louder, and her eyes half closed. Her eye brows knitted together and then her hand was on mine.
"Don't." Then she looked into my eyes. We held each other's gaze for a moment or two, before her nails bored into the back of my hand, and in one sharp intake of breath she pushed me down on the duvet, straddling me, my hands pressed down on the mattress above my head. Just like that night she'd been drunk and sad, and had climbed through my window to surprise me.
I was too quick to let her lead though. I titled my head up, and kissed her. Her eyes closed immediately, and I followed. She trembled as our mouths came together. Then she broke off the kiss, kissing my neck, letting her knee move against me and I bit my lip hard.
.
.
When mom, dad and Daphney had come home, they called on us. Santana and I were cuddled up close on my bed, talking about homework. Coming down, daddy remarked on me having such red cheeks. Santana and I looked at each other, smiling a little.
"We fell asleep." Santana said, like it was the most obvious answer.
"History, again?" We laughed.
They all nodded and smiled as they'd put more food on their plates. I'd just been thinking about how incredibly sexy it was to watch Santana eat. I could hardly tear my eyes off of her mouth closing around the fork. I had to force myself to eat the entire broccoli not to show the whole table how jealous I was of her broccoli, getting that kind of reception from her mouth.
Well up in my room I laid down on the bed again, and Santana followed, lying down on her stomach. I stared at those lips as she cuddled close, kissing my neck. My arms wrapped around her as I sighed happily. It felt so nice, warm. I relaxed completely into her touch.
She kissed my cheekbone and I laughed, feeling her feet moving next to mine.
"Oh, sweet lady kisses." Her little "Mhmm" proved that she remembered. She stopped kissing me and looked up. Her breath tickled my chin.
"It's a nice break from all that scissoring." Her actually saying it out loud made a shiver of excitement go up and down my spine. Then she leaned in, brushing by my lips by an inch. It took my breath away. She started working on my neck again, and I laughed quietly.
It was working well. She was joking about it. I thought once again about all those times when we were younger, and she used to climb up the tree outside my room and then tumble in through my window as she woke me up. There was a song that kept reminding me of everything that was her.
"We should do a duet together." When she didn't say anything, I let my hand travel to her neck. "We should sing Melissa Etheridge's come to my window."
I wonder if she knew it. Because suddenly my skin felt very cold, and she pulled her head back. Her eyes were cold again. Empty. Like she'd flicked off the switch.
"First of all; there's a lot of talking going on… " I felt my heart sink in my chest, hummingbirds falling down with it. She seemed to change her mind, leans down to kiss my skin again. "And I wants to get my mack on." I wonder how I should save this.
"I, well… I don't know. I just…" I try not to feel disappointed. This time she gets off of me.
"Second of all, I'm not making out with you 'cause I'm in love with you and want to sing about making lady babies." I roll over on the side, leaning on my hand as I stare at her back. She's fixing her hair… It hurts so much. It's a burning feeling, corrosive, I think the word is. The things that snake bites make you feel, my dad told me once.
Like you're corroding from the inside of you skin.
"I'm only here because Puck's been in the slammer for about twelve hours now, and I'm like a lizard." She looks back at me as she's making her ponytail. One second, then she looks away. Her voice is a little hoarse, but otherwise it's cold as ice. I swallow hard again.
"I need something warm beneath me or I can't digest my food."
I work hard not to let my voice loose balance. I'm afraid I'll trip over my own words.
"But who… are you gonna sing a duet with?" I look down on stripy, white sheets. The lump in my throat is back, growing stronger with each moment her back is turned to me. I can see her smile, just by looking at her neck. She doesn't answer at first.
"You'll see." I roll over to my other side as she finishes her ponytail. It's higher than it's been in a while. I wonder why. Then she must've turned to look at me, because her voice reaches even deeper into stomach.
"I'm going home. Aren't you gonna follow me down?" I swallow once, hard. My nose is burning, and I know that I'm going to cry. I hardly ever cry. I always try to see the bright side, because crying is the worst. But this side of Santana has no bright spots.
"No." I manage to squeeze out. "I'm too tired." I barely dare to breathe, worried a sob will escape. She doesn't answer, she doesn't move. After almost a minute, she walks away without saying anything. I hear her hurried steps, and how she shouts goodbye to my family on the ground floor. As I listen to her footsteps rushing down the graveled path through our garden, I hear the paws of a very heavy Lord Tubbington approach my bed.
He jumps up and starts purring loudly. Instead of being his usual, lazy self he paws over to me. With a little sound in his throat he lays down with his back to my lower back where Santana's hand was roaming over a couple of minutes ago. He stays there, warming me up with his fur.
Like it wasn't bad enough, that song keeps playing in my head.
You don't know how far I'd go
To ease this precious ache
You don't know how much I'd give
Or how much I can take
One single tear escapes and rolls down across the bridge of my nose.
.
.
"Great Duets are like a great marriage. The singers complement each other; push each other to be better."
.
.
My sadness quickly turned to rage.
Santana had taught me all about being a sneaky bitch, and well, I was sure going to use it. The next morning me, Becky and Rose went to the Lima Bean. I'd texted them last night, telling them I had some serious trouble. Now Becky looked at me, drinking her hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows. Rose was the one to speak up.
"Look, Santana is always being a bitch. The unnatural thing is her being it towards you." Me and Becky nodded. "Even though you're not in that kind of relationship…" she winked at me and I blushed. "The best way is to make her jealous." I clapped my hands.
"Yes! But how do I do that exactly? I need to take someone… she likes?" Becky snorts and a marshmallow flips onto the table.
"Noo. Chose someone she hates." Rose nods eagerly while sipping her mocha.
"I agree with Becks. You need to make her really jealous. Maybe not someone she hates, but someone she's not expecting. Someone who's not the obvious choice that you will screw and then throw away like a used tissue." She giggles, but I don't join in.
"Wouldn't that be really mean to the person I'm using?" Becky shakes her head.
"Naah…"
"Come on!" Rose says; happily. "The boys in school should be happy we're even paying attention to them! With so many hot girls around, why should we even give them the time of day?" I look at her, grinning.
"So that means you and Tania are…" Rose's face turn bright red.
"Well! No, not really!" Then she laughs and flaps her hand, almost spilling out my vanilla latte.
"How about Artie?" Becky says. "He's really hot!" Me and Rose turn to her. She's got a moustache out of whipped cream, which is adorable. I hand her a napkin.
"I always kind of thought he was a robot. He's got those gloves, and he's so smart." Becky nods.
"The wheelchair looks like it might be able to fly." She adds.
"Cool!" I exclaim.
"Well, he's a good idea. It's a person she'd never expect you to date. She might even think you actually like him. It's PERFECT." Rose looks thrilled, still a little red in the face. I nod. And he's the one boy I haven't kissed yet… I didn't really think he counted, robot and all… so, anyway, it'll help my perfect score. Let the games begin.
.
.
"So… let me get this straight. You wanna be my girlfriend." I smile at that. He looks so sweet and confused. I find myself actually liking it. "Because you…" I move in closer, hands behind my back. "Like the idea of wheeling me around?"
"I just really wanna get you in a stroller." My hands are on my hips now, and Artie smiles up at me. Score.
"Wanna give it a go?" I nod, move around to his back, letting my hand touch his shoulder before taking a hold of his wheelchair. Nice, just like a doll. Except this one talks.
"I haven't had a boyfriend in a while. I love it already." He laughs slightly at me, pushing his glasses further up his nose, as I go on. "We should brag about it."
"So I get to tell everybody that we're dating?"
"Yes." I see Santana coming down the corridor with Mercedes. "And I got a duet partner." I look her straight in the eyes, and then look away quickly, pretending not to care. She's giving me the bitch face.
I can't help it. I turn around, satisfied with seeing her stare, arms crossed over her chest. I point at both my breasts, then telling her off by wiggling my finger. She looks kind of shocked. Sad? I don't know. When I turn away, I smile to myself.
"So Artie, what kind of music do you like?"
.
.
"And now I love you just the way I loved that ragdoll,
But only now that love has grown…"
Santana's eyes are hard on me as she's singing. And moving. Artie is so into the song he almost smacks me in the face. I sit there; knowing sitting beside him is driving her at least a little bit over the edge. My head is moving a tiny bit from side to side, but not enough to show that I like the song one bit. It's about loving someone as much as childhood memories. Or like, the love of toys and pens? Not sure. Besides, I never imagined Santana liking Mercedes… this has to be about voices, not love. Right?
"Oooh how I love you baby, baby, baby, baby…!" I can't help but lean forward, laughing as I see Santana's pants. I quickly straighten up, looking like I don't care.
It's not even fair when they start shaking their assets in my face.
And then… her bitch face, eyes right on me as she high fives Mercedes. I start biting my nails. My stomach is full of the crying Hummingbirds. It feels like they're quick wings have slowed down.
I'm gonna have to start sitting in Artie's lap to get back at her for this.
.
.
A/N: I love reviews, and I love writing. Not to beg for them, but some feedback would be great. I care what you think, every one of you 62 followers (!), and ideas are GREATLY welcomed!