We Become Who We Are When We Fall In Love

by summerkid

Sent to live with her aunt in Texas, Santana comes face to face with a past she thought was long gone. She is shown the beauty in life through the eyes of her childhood best friend, Brittany, who ultimately shows her that life and love are one and the same... by making her feel it. AU

8. Chapter 8

And Promises Made/So, I'll Let My Walls Come Down

August, 2006

Brittany and Santana find themselves off into the far end of the Pierce's backyard while the adults and younger children stay close to the house. They had been sitting against the cool metal of the shed not quite understanding the need for the rest of the company to crowd around the small fire pit that Mr. Pierce had put together.

Brittany grins at her friend when they hear the familiar music of Mr. Pierce's 'Rumors' record playing in the distance, memories crowding their mind. She pushes herself up pulling Santana along with her and requests for them to dance around like they used to do when they were a little younger. She giggles and smiles at the way Santana allows her to drag her into any and every kind of situation.

The first few songs played are fast paced and the girls jump around letting their hair swing around and their limbs do just the same. They pick up on the fact that someone went over to the turn table to pick out their own track and the beginning chords of 'Songbird' fly through the air and wash over them. They stop their jumping around and their hands flop down at their sides. They stand there in front of the metal shed awkwardly. It's too slow to dance around like they had been and it's too slow to stand there and sway by themselves without looking like they are tripping out on some kind of drug. Brittany takes a quiet but deep breath and steps towards Santana, offering her hand in the process.

"Dance with me." She requests quietly. It kind of comes out as a question, for there is a bit of uncertainty coursing through her veins at the moment. Santana lifts her gaze from Brittany's hand and is met with those sparkling ocean like blue eyes and her breath catches in her throat. Without another thought she nods and places her hand into Brittany's and takes a step forward to be led along the patches of grass in the Pierce's backyard. "Put your hand here." Brittany directs Santana, pulling on her hand and placing Santana's hand onto her shoulder, gripping the other in her hand tighter. She takes another deep breath and lets her hand slide down her friend's side until it rests on her hip. "Follow." She smiles sweetly and begins to lead them in a dance.

"Okay." Santana breathes out nervously and she allows herself to be led around in a small set of steps that only bring them in circles but she smiles nonetheless.

For a short while the girls stare down at their feet, watching them tentatively take steps trying desperately not to step on the other's toes. It takes a few moments to get adjusted but soon enough Brittany lifts her head and stares at Santana who is still looking down and she smiles thoughtfully.

The way the light of the fire from the other side of the yard lights up small parts of Santana's face, the way it flickers a little and casts tiny shadows over the contours of her cheeks and chin and then her neck until the light hits the exposed skin of her chest. When she lifts her gaze from Santana's chest back up to her face she finds her friend staring back at her with a small tint of pink on her cheeks. Bashfully, Brittany grins and tears her eyes away.

"You're good." Santana comments, fixing her grip in the blonde's hand. Brittany looks back at her and offers her a small smile of appreciation.

"I'm not used to leading." Brittany admits making note of their positions and Santana smirks.

"You lead me well enough." She points out.

"I guess… I'm just comfortable with you." Brittany states. "You make everything feel easy." Santana tilts her head taking in the comment.

"So... I'm easy?" She jokes but Brittany's eyes widen suddenly realizing how her words came out. Really, it had only been this summer that they've really grasped sexual innuendos and they've taken complete advantage of them.

"Oh, no!" Brittany quickly tries to backpedal. "That's not... I meant that..." She sighs, huffs and blushes at her sudden loss for the English language. "What I meant was... when I'm with you, I feel like I can do anything." Brittany clarifies. Their eyes lock, not even paying attention to their motions and the Brittany's hand grips a little further around the Santana's back while tanned hand moves further behind the blonde's neck until her fingers are in the blonde hair.

"I think you can do anything."

---

December, 2011

Santana sits across from Miss Pillsbury, arms crossed over her chest and her eyes half focused on the edge of the desk in front of her. She was sure this week's meeting was going to be the usual sit, listen and nod but she couldn't have been more wrong. If she had given Aunt Linda the few minutes her aunt had requested this morning for a 'talk', then she wouldn't be sitting here dumb struck. As surprised as she should probably be, there's more of a feeling of disappointment which takes away from the shock value of it all.

"Santana?" Miss Pillsbury interrupts the unwanted thought provoked silence with a soft voice. "Santana, I know this is a difficult situation to deal with." She continues and at these words Santana's eyes shoot towards her sharply. The social worker shifts under the young girl's glare and clears her throat as she reaches out to her desk as a way to distract from the obvious tension in the room. "We should look at this as a good thing though." She assures Santana and tries to offer a small smile when she's sure the icy stare has defrosted, even if only a little bit.

"A good thing?" Santana scoffs and rolls her eyes. "Please." Her shoulders slump and her eyes fall to the front of the desk again. Miss Pillsbury tilts her head and gives herself a moment to take in Santana's state.

"I understand that you were looking forward to going home to see your parents for the holidays. And this isn't about them not wanting to see you." She tries the 'same side' approach, but at this Santana vehemently shakes her head.

"So my mother's way of showing me she wants to see me is by drinking herself into rehab?" Santana bites back with a jerk of her head. Of course Miss Pillsbury had expected a reaction like this. She's been working with Santana Lopez for three and a half months so her quick retorts laced with bitter sarcasm are of no surprise. "And my father is too busy fucking his twenty year old wife to have time for me." She huffs with desperate irritation. Trying not to appear too frazzled by the teenagers tone or choice of words, Miss Pillsbury tries a different approach.

"Does your father's relationship with your stepmother…"

"Don't call her that." Santana interrupts. Miss Pillsbury nods and lets out a long breath.

"Does your father's relationship with Patti make you feel like he has no time for you?" She asks, trying to be careful with the words she chooses.

"My father's idea of quality time is driving forty minutes across town and picking me up from the corner of my block so that he doesn't have to see my mother." Santana begins to list a day in the life of her relationship with her dad with dark sincerity. "Mind you, this only happens one to two times a month which is exactly ten times less than his court appointed visitation rights." She points out and checks her nails before continuing. "Usually he takes me shopping, the mall or a boutique in town, and hands over his credit card before vanishing for the next three hours. After a shopping spree with my daddy's money, I find him flirting with the girl behind the jewelry counter that he's just bought his new wife's necklace from." Miss Pillsbury tilts her head in confusion and sadness, trying not to let it show as Santana's eyes lift from her lap. "He doesn't even drive me home." She chuckles out in a self deprecating way. "He always seems to get a 'phone call' from her demanding him to get home for some crisis. It's not so bad I guess." She shrugs her shoulders. "As long as I snag a bottle of tequila for the bus driver, I'm good for four rides."

Miss Pillsbury glances down at the files in front of her and nods once. Nowhere in these pages or reports about the girl in front of her has any of this information. It's clear that the divorce of her parents had a huge impact on her. It would be a little surprising if it didn't impact her. But unfortunately for Santana's case, the impact sent her into an extreme spiral of acting out and bad decisions. Decisions that she learned from the actions of her parents.

"Have you talked to your dad about any of this?" Miss Pillsbury questions, with concern and curiosity.

"About what?" Santana asks in return.

"How it makes you feel when he doesn't value his time with you." She explains and Santana scoffs at the statement.

"Oh, please." Santana crosses her legs at the knee and tightens her arms over her chest. "If there's anything I learned from my parents, it's to leave feelings at the door. All they do is complicate an already complicated situation."

"Are you saying then, that there are no things you have strong feelings about?"

"I'm not a robot, of course I do." Santana replies with pent up annoyance. "I have strong feelings against hypocrisy, our unstable government and of course I feel blessed about the endless amount of breadsticks at Breadstix." She smiles and tilts her head sweetly to the side.

"I meant…"

"I know what you meant." Santana interrupts her and glares. "I'm used to it."

"What is it that you are used to, Santana?" Miss Pillsbury wonders. Santana sighs and glances briefly over at the clock on the social worker's desk only to be deflated that she has only endured thirty minutes of her hour.

Santana can't fight her silence. Truth is, it seems that what she is used to is being ignored. She's ignored by her mother who would rather spend quality time at a bar after work or in front of the television slowly but surely emptying a bottle of whatever it is she has in the liquor cabinet. Her father has been ignoring her for the last five and a half years too, spending all of his time with his new family. It's as though she and her brother don't exist. She gets that her parents are never going to repair their problems and aren't going to get back together. That's a given. She just never actually imagined that she and her brother would be the casualties of their war.

"Puck, my friend from home, he and I," She finally starts and takes a deep breath before she continues. "We're cut from the same clothe." She chances a glance at Miss Pillsbury who is listening intently, leaving her pen on the desk to show she has her attention. "We come from broken homes. We live with our single mothers who take an obvious liking to their liquid diet." Santana points out her mother's substance abuse, something she has previously tried to deny and shrug off as something not so serious. "You'd think that with women who drink so much, they'd notice when their precious tequila was missing." She chuckles and shakes her head. "Both our dads left when we were twelve and we met at an after school program our moms made us go to so they could go to their own counseling which wound up being at a bar. We tried the straight and narrow." Her eyes fall to her lap where her hands are softly wrestling with each other. "We even joined the stupid glee club at our school. All we wanted was for our parents to come and see us. It wasn't about getting our family together. It was about… I don't know what it was about anymore. I think we just wanted to know they still loved us even though they hated each other. But, no matter how hard we practiced and how good we were, it didn't matter."

"I'm sure that it did." Miss Pillsbury interjects, but Santana rolls her eyes and lets out a pained sigh.

"I'll never forget my last show. I was a freshman and I had a solo. We came in second but I wouldn't have even cared if we came in last." Santana tilts her head in thought and bites on her bottom lip at the memories. "I just wanted my mother to tell me I had something. That I was special. But, she didn't. She didn't even come to the show." She moves her head upright and shakes it to herself. "When I got home, she was passed out in front of the television. She looked like she was going to come, she was all dressed up. But, the empty bottle by the recliner somehow prevented her from doing so. I called Puck, he came over and we waited outside of a 7-11 for someone to buy us beer. I mean, we'd only ever known to mask our feelings. It's what we'd seen our mothers do for so long."

After a few more uncomfortable minutes of silence, safe for the sound of Miss Pillsbury writing down notes about their session, Santana is finally getting out of that suffocating office. It's the first time since she's been here that she wishes Brittany was parked right out there waiting for her. She'd give anything to be taken away, somewhere far and do anything. She'd even settle for doing nothing.

But, instead of Brittany or even just enough time to herself to let out a sigh in defeat, she is greeted by Mayor Pierce standing on the sidewalk. Her feet stop moving abruptly and the door slowly closes behind her. She contemplates pretending like she doesn't see the woman, but that's too juvenile. It's clear that this woman is here on business; personal business.

"Umm," Santana hums and glances down Charles before she takes a step forward. "Hey, Mrs. Pierce." She slaps a smile on her face, both of them knowing it's fake.

"Hello, Santana." The mayor replies in a voice that makes the air taste stale and Santana is sure the sun even just hid behind a cloud. "You know," She steps closer, arms over her chest and she regards Santana with a tilt of her head, the gesture looking as if she is about to share regretful information. "My daughter means a lot to me." Santana's brow furrows and her head jerks back slightly.

"Oh, uhh…" Santana is kind of at a loss for words because the way Mrs. Pierce says this, it sounds like a threat. "Good for you." She decides on, giving the woman an approving nod.

"Yes, good for me." Mayor Pierce repeats in that sort of authoritative tone that a lot of power greedy grownups use. "I don't want to take up either of our time, so let me just get to it." She starts and takes one more step forward. "I know your kind." Mrs. Pierce says in a hushed voice, but the animosity and disapproval is not softened in her tone. Santana's head snaps up at her, shoots the woman a bewildered glare. "From the big city, you tell your stories to small town girls and make empty promises." She sounds bitter, angry even.

"I don't make promises to anyone." Santana comments defensively.

"Not yet." Mrs. Pierce looks towards the end of Charles Street. "Brittany is an impressionable girl. She has flights of fancy, daydreams… she's whimsical." Santana follows the older woman's gaze and smiles when her eyes fall onto said blonde who is walking their way.

"Yeah." She breathes out. "I know."

"She's also foolish." Mrs. Pierce adds, catching the young girl's attention once again and she narrows her eyes at the older woman. "You think you're special because my daughter has taken a liking to you. Well, let me enlighten you. Brittany has a soft spot for wounded animals. She tends to them because they are too weak to live in this world without her. But these animals are like leeches and they suck her dry. Eventually, she'll drop you. She feels sorry for you."

Santana eyes Mayor Pierce carefully. She vaguely remembers this woman telling her when she first arrived that she'd 'read up' on her and knew all there was to know. Sure, she's not really surprised that she is getting told to stay away from someone, especially someone like Brittany. It's not like the Mayor of Knox City doesn't have power over people. Shit, she blackmailed her own daughter. Clearly this woman has zero boundaries. But, right now, Santana is in no fighting mood.

"Hey, Santana." Brittany greets, all smiles and completely unaware of the tension in the air. Mrs. Pierce steps away from her and turns towards her daughter. She smiles and Santana cringes at the expression because it is so false.

"Hey." Santana says, letting a genuine but guarded smile come to her lips when she looks over at Brittany. The cheerleader awkwardly looks between the two people in front of her.

"What's goin' on?" Brittany asks and turns towards her mother.

"Oh, I was just asking Santana how things have been going." Mrs. Pierce lies through her teeth, sending Santana a snake like grin. Brittany, completely oblivious, beams over at Santana anxious to hear if her thoughts on Knox have changed yet. Santana rolls her eyes to herself before looking back over at Brittany, tight lipped smile and a nod.

"And I was telling Madam Mayor here how fantastic it's been here in her lovely town." Santana joins in on the obvious lie, letting her eyes fall to Mrs. Pierce. "It's so welcoming." She tilts her head to the side in that sickeningly sweet over the top kind of way. "Well," Santana interrupts the really uncomfortable silence and menacing stare she is receiving. "I have to go. My aunt is probably wondering where I am. I do have to be home before sunset or my court ordered ankle bracelet will start beeping." She jokes, but the bitter sarcasm in her voice does not go unnoticed, by either Pierce women.

"Oh." Brittany's shoulders slump and she tries studying Santana's face, but her friend is looking everywhere but at her. "Do you… my truck is parked down that way." She motions down Charles where her truck is indeed parked. "I can drop you home and then come back here." She suggests and looks to her mom to see if her offer is okay by her. But, before Mrs. Pierce can come up with a quick response to prevent that from happening, Santana does.

"No, no need." Santana shakes her head and adjusts the strap of her bag on her shoulder. "I was kinda lookin' forward to walking." Her lips twist and she finally lets her eyes fall back to Brittany. "Thanks though." Brittany smiles sadly and nods her head as she watches Santana turn away to make her way home.

Santana is sure that Mrs. Pierce is desperately trying to distract her daughter with something irrelevant as much as she is sure that Brittany is staring at her walking away. But, she can't look back. The tears in her eyes are her motivation for the solitude this long walk home will give her. It's not often that Santana cries. In fact, she tries to not have time for such superficial emotional reactions. The one emotion she does make time for though is anger. Her anger, however, is subsided along with those tears threatening to start fully building when she turns the corner and spots a familiar blonde.

Just outside of the Knox City Post Office, Santana sees Holly Holiday putting up flyers for an open mic night over at Holly's Daze. The older woman doesn't notice her at first, seeing as she is pretty busy stapling hot pink pages to a dull board. Santana looks over the few randomly colored papers begging artists to come down to the small café on the corner of Charles Street.

When her feet shuffle against the gravel Holly glances over her shoulder and smiles when she recognizes Santana. She staples a few more times and then steps back to admire her handy work. Turning her head she looks at Santana whose eyes are scanning over the entire board, which is pretty much filled up with all of Holly's flyers.

"You sing, Little Lopez?" Holly asks as she tucks the stack of her flyers under her arm. Santana's eyes flicker towards Holly and she shrugs her shoulders.

"I used to." She admits in a small voice, trying her hardest not to let her head hang.

"Used to?" Holly asks in a bit of shock. She spins around to fully face Santana and crosses her arms, making sure to not let her flyers fall free. "You're too young to say you used to do something." She explains in a matter of fact kind of way. Santana nods and lets her stare longer on the bright colored pages under Holly's arm.

"I'm too young for a lot." She tells her, finally looking her in the eyes. Holly studies her for a few seconds and then nods to herself as she pulls out one of the flyers and holds it out for her.

"Music is like chicken soup for the soul… for the heart." Holly explains as Santana slowly takes the offered page. "Especially the broken ones." Holly smiles sadly, although she means it to be uplifting, and then she's heading down the other way to post some more flyers.

"Yeah," Santana sighs. "So I hear." She whispers to herself, remembering Brittany's take on music and its affect on life.

It takes a while, a long while, until Santana is walking through the threshold of Aunt Linda's house. She guesses she had walked pretty slowly because the smell of dinner is already wafting its way into the living room. The clanging of pans and pots gives it away too, but she tries to avoid the chef because she wants some more alone time.

Santana is sure she's in the clear when she closes her door, but the knock she hears tells her differently. Instead of pulling it open like she normally would, she holds the door knob and rests her hand against the wood of the frame. She opens her mouth to say 'what' or the usual 'who is it', but nothing comes out. She clears her throat and licks her lips, trying to keep herself steady.

"What?" She finally calls out after another short round of knocks and a 'Santana, are you in there alone?'.

"Are you okay?" Aunt Linda asks and Santana's head drops, rests her chin to her chest and shuts her eyes. "I talked to Miss Pillsbury. She called me after you left." She can imagine the way her aunt is probably standing there, on the other side of the door with a dish towel between her hands, tugging at it. "I'm sorry you had to hear it from her." Santana shakes her head to herself and sadly chuckles. Everyone is always apologizing for everyone else.

"It's fine." Santana manages to get out through gritted teeth. She's not mad at her aunt, but she doesn't exactly want to talk about anything.

"Can you come out and say that to my face. At least then I can pretend to believe you." Aunt Linda says through the door. But, she doesn't open it and she doesn't say anything either. She hears her aunt sigh and then a shuffle that sounds like a hand on the door.

After that, she can hear the sound of Aunt Linda walking down the hall and then the footsteps just fade away. Santana stands there for a few moments. Hand flat against the door and the other around the door knob as though ensuring no one to leave or to enter. Her eyes, still shut tightly, beg to keep anything resembling tears from forming and falling. She clenches her jaw as she takes in a few deep breathes, giving herself the power to finally pull away from the door.

Her body finds its way to her bed and she falls unceremoniously down onto it. With eyes now open, she stares up at the ceiling that could probably use a nice coat of paint and thinks about what she's just learned. She'd always pushed her mother's drinking down, making it seem like it wasn't what it was, or is as it may be. In one of her first meetings with Miss Pillsbury, she'd even defended her mother's drinking making it seem as though it wasn't an every hour of the day thing.

She shakes her head because she's been a fool. Everything she thought she knew were lies she told herself to feel better about her life. With her brother gone and her father who would rather spend time with his new family, her mother was the only stable thing in her life. Even when Santana hated her, she loved her because her mom was all she really had to call family. But, instead of feeling the same, her mom found comfort and companionship at the bottom of a bottle rather than building a relationship with her own daughter.

If she were home, back in Boston, she would have called Puck as soon as she found out. He would have picked her up and brought her to some party out in a field or an underground club. He would have helped her numb everything with an array of pharmaceuticals and a bottle of whatever he managed to swipe from his mother.

But, she's not in Boston. She doesn't even know what happened to Puck after they got pinched. For all she knows, he's locked up somewhere in a juvenile facility being someone's bitch. Or worse, if there even is a worse. Just because Puck's not around, doesn't mean she can't get rid of all of these feelings.

She jumps up from her bed and quickly moves towards her closet. Oddly enough, she still hasn't fully unpacked. Her suitcase is still half filled with unworn clothes, shoes and some hair products. But it's what's underneath it all is what she is looking for. She rummages through the clothes and such, digging deep down to the bottom in search of the cool feeling of glass. Her fingers wrap around the neck of a bottle she had stashed when she first arrived and she finally smiles. When she pulls it out, she is relieved to find that the bottle of tequila she had bought with her fake ID down on Main Street is still half full.

She's never had much of a problem handling more than this, but she then thinks of her mother sitting at home all alone, drinking her worries away by herself. She's not her mother and she is not about to act like her either. So, instead of sitting in her room and wallowing in the bottom of a bottle of Jose, she grabs her cell phone and scrolls through her phone book. It's a short list, so she doesn't have to search long.

"Hey." She says when there's an answer. Her thumb rubs over the label on the bottle and turns it from side to side, watching the liquid swish back and forth. "Can you come get me?" She quickly asks, wanting to send her request as urgent but not desperate.

In about fifteen minutes, Quinn is parked down past the Pierce house as Santana had instructed. After taping a note on the outside of her bedroom door for Aunt Linda, Santana sneaks out through her window to go meet up with her friend a few ways down the road. As she passes the Pierce house, she notices Brittany's truck isn't there. She wonders if the girl next door is still out with her mother. But, that's a fleeting thought, because she has more pressing matters to tend to, like the one in her hand.

Quinn doesn't ask questions when Santana climbs into her truck, bottle of liquor in hand. As soon as the door shuts she throws them into gear and drives down the South Service Road the way she had just came. The radio is faintly playing as they travel down the dusty, dirt road. Neither really caring if it was off entirely. Quinn forgoes bringing them into town to any of the usual hangouts, feeling that this is supposed to be a just them kind of mission.

Just past their school is an old field house for a closed down school in a town that no longer exists. No one knows what happened to the town or even the school, because it had closed when most of the Knox City High School students' parents were in high school. But, it's not that much forgotten because a lot of the town's teens find ways of using it. Some use it as a hangout for drinking and other social aspects. Some park at the field house to make out while others have been seen during summer days having pick-up football games and or picnics with friends.

For them, the field house is going to serve as a safe place. Somewhere Quinn is taking Santana in hopes of letting her feel free to open up about whatever it is that has brought this obvious cloud over head. When she parks on the far side of the field, she leaves the truck running as to allow the music and sound of the engine to be used as a way to make it less silent.

Santana looks around, unimpressed at their current location, but appreciative of the lack of town folk loitering in her personal space. She untwists the bottle of Jose and takes a swig, only making a face as it burns its way down to her stomach. After her second and smoother sip, she offers the bottle over to Quinn who hesitantly accepts.

"My mom's in rehab." Santana says in a low voice. Quinn looks over at her, unsure of what her response is supposed to be. She turns the bottle around in her hands, equally uncertain if she should be encouraging drinking at this moment. Before she can fully debate that in her mind though, Santana reaches out and pulls the tequila from her. "My dad's a dick, his wife's a bitch, my brother is selfish and my mom's an alcoholic." She plasters a fake smile on her face and sends a wink to Quinn. With a lift of the bottle as though toasting the occasion, she tosses back another double shot. "Go team." She manages through the soothing burn of alcohol, handing the bottle back over to Quinn.

They are momentarily interrupted by the sound of Santana's cell phone ringing. She groans, pulling it out of her bag and sighs as she presses the ignore button. It's Aunt Linda. Obviously it's of no surprise that she's calling. Santana figures that she must have found that note. What's also obvious is that she is going to be in trouble as soon as she sets foot in that house.

"How is it that other people's fuck ups can fuck up your life?" Santana muses between sips. Quinn tilts her head and twists her lips. She and Santana have had their mini heart to hearts here and there since her friend's arrival. But those times have seldom turned into the ultimate sharing moment like in a Lifetime movie.

"Well," Quinn clears her throat and shifts in her spot in the driver's seat. "I think it makes sense for the important people in your life to have some kind of effect on you." Santana scoffs at this idea.

"Well, the important people in my life have fucked me over one too many times." Santana explains. "So, I'm done."

"With what?"

"Everything." Santana waves her hand in the air with a huff. "All that crap about families having unconditional love is bull crap." She tells her friend. "Some people just shouldn't be parents." As soon as the words leave her lips, she clamps her mouth shut and sends Quinn a nervous sideways glance. Quinn's eyes drop to her lap and she nods, understanding some of what Santana means. "I'm sorry." She whispers, knowing she's stepped over an invisible line.

"It's okay." Quinn shakes it off and Santana wishes she could crawl down into the bottom of the bottle in her hand because she rarely feels bad for the things that she says.

"What exactly happened anyway?" Santana asks, figuring she can make up for her verbal mistake by getting some of the finer details to the story. Quinn sadly smirks and reaches out for the tequila.

"I was only fifteen," Quinn starts and takes a sip before continuing. "I didn't have money. I knew, if I had the baby, I'd be miserable for the rest of my life. But, I also felt like if I had an abortion, I'd feel like I just signed on the devil's dotted line. It's hard. Growin' up in Texas." She explains, motioning towards the town as though it will give Santana an idea. "I dunno how it is for ya'll in the big city. But, here, values are like law. These Christian values that are drilled into our brains. He wasn't gonna be there for any of it. I knew it before he even knew it. When I told him..." She looks to the side as a tear falls from her eye, but she quickly wipes it away. "And he asked if it was his?" She says incredulously. "He was my first." The corners of her mouth turn upside down. "You always hear how first times are supposed to be magical."

"They're not." Santana interjects, vaguely remembering her first time all those years ago.

"It was after a game." Quinn breathes out innocently, her eyes looking as though she is replaying the events. "We'd just beat the top team, making us number one. He asked me to come to a party. He was a sophomore captain, how do I say no?" She smiles sadly down at the nearly empty bottle and hands it back over to Santana. "He got me drunk off wine coolers and told me I was beautiful." A chuckle escapes her lips, only it's not infectious because it's not funny. "He said he loved me." She adds, which only makes the story that much sadder.

"Love doesn't exist." Santana lets out before finishing the rest of the liquor. Quinn's eyebrows furrow and she watches as the bottle is tossed out her window. "It's a made up, fairytale word used to make people feel better about their sad little lives."

"Why are you so bent out of shape about love?" Quinn asks. It's been a few times now that Santana has expressed her distaste for the feeling. She makes the word itself sound like a curse.

"Because, it's a waste of time." Santana simply tells her.

"How do you know? Have you ever been in love?" She wonders that maybe Santana has such hard feelings for such a thing is because she had a bad experience. Santana laughs, waving off the idea that she'd ever considered loving anyone or anything.

"Please. I'm not one of those fools who think something like that can change a person. For the good anyway." She shakes her head at the idea and the reasons for her feelings towards love. "I've seen what 'love' can do. It's a fuckin' fantasy world people live in. If my parents were in love then they would still be together, my dad wouldn't hate me and my mom wouldn't have drank herself into a rehab center. It's a trap that people fall into and it never has a good ending." Quinn watches Santana turn her focus to her nails, as though they are more interesting than this conversation. She can't help but wonder why someone can be so turned off from the world's apparent best feeling in the world. How someone can think of love as some old wives tale or mythical joke on the human race. Maybe she's never been in love herself, but Quinn can understand a different form of it.

"You parents split up, so fucking what? It has nothing to do with you. Their love faded or maybe they never had it but, they love you. If they didn't they wouldn't have sent you here. They would have let you continue being reckless and make stupid choices and let you wind up in jail or something." Quinn spits out in frustration. Santana is a bit taken back, but she maintains her cool and calm exterior. "You think that your parents just abandoned you? You think that they just forgot about you, that you even exist? You're severely delusional." She explains, knowing that she isn't going to get an immediate reaction out of Santana other than avoidance. "Parents never forget about their kids. Their children are the first thing that enters their mind when they wake up. The last thing they worry about before they fall asleep. Does she know I love her? Does she know I did what I did because of that? Does she understand? Will they ever understand?" Quinn lowers her eyes and shakes her head. Santana's fingers are still loosely wrapped around the neck of the bottle and she wonders if this is what makes her feel close to her mother.

"You can go ahead and feel sorry for yourself, but, you're the only one whose gonna do it. You have no clue how exhausting it is to be a parent. I know that all I think about is that baby girl I gave up two years ago. Hoping… praying that I did right by her. Wondering if she smiles and if she does, does she have my smile? Does she laugh? What does it sound like? Is she scared ever?" Quinn pauses, staring off into the evening sky as though looking for the sparkling eyes of the little girl she gave away. "I'll never know because I don't have the luxury of watching her grow and become her own person. I don't get to hear her first words, see her take her first steps or hold her when she cries but it doesn't make me love her any less. So, no, you don't get to be mad or whatever at your parents because I'm sure they did and are doing the best they can. Because that's all we can do to do right by our kids." Santana finally turns her head towards her, but her eyes remain on the bottle. "Sure there are books for parents but there is no set in stone play book on how to be the perfect mom or dad. We go by guts and heart. They love you. I love her and that's why I did what I did. They are just so desperately trying to do right by you. Don't blame them or hate them or punish them either. If for any reason at all… do it for me." Quinn begs, desperate for at least a little of what she says can sneak past Santana's thick skull. "And if not even for me, do it for Brittany. She has enough hope and understanding for the entire world." She sighs when Santana shoots her a perplexed look. "You're so closed off to anything and everything that you're ruining something that could be perfect. You're so angry with love, but, how can you be? You're so blind. Open your eyes Santana, because love is staring you right in the face."

"What?" Santana spits out, utterly confused. Quinn shakes her head and glances out the window. The sound of radio static, music and the engine interrupt them for a few long seconds.

"Out of everything I just said to you," Quinn quirks an eyebrow and smirks. "You respond with a 'what'? What are you five?"

"Well, I'm not about to shell out comments about your 'I'm a sad teen mom' speech." Santana explains as she inspects her nails under the moonlight.

"I guess you haven't figured it out yet." Quinn hums as she wraps her fingers around the steering wheel as a means of distraction.

"What's that?"

"Nothing." Quinn shakes her head and puts the truck into reverse, ready to take this pity party back home. "Just, forget it."

Santana doesn't forget it, but she leaves the conversation in that abandoned field. The ride back to Aunt Linda's is quiet for the most part, both girls mulling over the things they had shared with each other tonight. Luckily, Quinn doesn't seem cold to her when she drops her off. She gives her a smile that sort of comforts her and lets her know that regardless of how they speak to one another, it's because they care. As Quinn drives away she wonders when Santana will finally understand what love actually is and that it does in fact exist.

Santana is surprised when Aunt Linda doesn't scold her for running out and missing dinner. She doesn't yell at her for even smelling like tequila. Instead, she hugs her niece and kisses her cheek. When she pulls back, she cups Santana's face in her hands and sadly smiles at her. Her fingers tuck some of her dark hair behind her ears and she tells her that there is some leftovers in the kitchen and that she's going to go to bed.

---

The ride to school is thankfully filled with Brittany talking animatedly about the impending State Championship game coming. Santana tries her best to appear enthused, simply because Brittany is excited about it. As much as she wants to ask her to pull over so she can inform her of everything that has happened in the past twenty four house, she bites her tongue because she doesn't want to bring everyone down with her.

She manages to make it to English class without having to go into any detail about how her night was, telling Brittany it was uneventful. As always, Brittany apologizes for her mother if she had said something rude or outlandish, which she is usually known for. But, Santana shrugs it off, telling Brittany that it was nothing important and that her mother was in fact asking her about how her time in Knox has been. She's sure as shit knows how it feels to be disappointed in a mother, so she isn't about to extend that feeling to Brittany.

When she walks into English class she takes her usual spot in the back of the room right next to Quinn. The two share a brief smile that reads 'hey' and they get ready for the lecture coming their way. Their teacher explains to the class that she has read everyone's essays on Hamlet, but that she isn't sure everyone fully grasps the concept of what it's about. She tells them she'd wanted their own interpretation and not something they copied off of Wikipedia. Santana rolls her eyes, only wishing she'd had that opportunity.

Since she's been staying with Aunt Linda, she hasn't been able to use the internet at all. Aunt Linda believes in books, which Santana can appreciate because she does like to read. But a lot of information is easily gathered on the internet rather than having to peruse books upon books. Of course, Aunt Linda only argues that she didn't have the internet growing up and she did just fine in school. It's not just school work Santana wants to get to faster, she hasn't been able to check her Facebook since she left Boston. For all she knows the news feeds could be running rampant about what has happened to her and Puck, something she has no knowledge of.

She's taken from her thoughts when Mrs. Roman announces that she is going to read an excerpt from an essay of a student from one of her classes. Everyone groans, probably just like her, hoping that it isn't one of their papers that is about to be read out loud.

"'To be or not to be, that really isn't the question, but the choice we need to make.'" The teacher grins proudly. "'Is it to be what is expected of us and to become whatever it is that our parents dream for us? Or is it not to be what they want and choose to be who we are and become who we want to be? Who are we supposed to be? What do you want for yourself? That is the question.'" Mrs. Roman lowers the paper and looks around the class at her students, excitedly waiting their responses.

"Gay!" One of the football player's fakely coughs and there are a few snickers from the rest of the class. Santana and Quinn share a look and both roll their eyes. Mrs. Roman gives the boys a look, but disregards them as she moves around the front of the room.

"Sounds like something a girl would write." Another guy comments.

"Hummel probably wrote that." Karofsky announces and gets a few laughs in response. Santana leans over to Quinn and taps her pen to her friend's notebook to get her attention.

"Why is this guy such an asshole?" She asks, nodding her head in Dave's direction.

"Last year he bullied Kurt real bad." Quinn tells her quietly and Santana furrows her brow as she stares the kid down.

"Settle down class." Mrs. Roman tries to get the side talk to quiet and focus on the topic at hand. "What do you think of this passage?" She asks, obviously desperate to get the class to participate. Her eyes land on the back of the room and notices Santana whispering to Quinn. "Santana, did you have something to add?" The teacher asks, obviously catching Santana whispering to Quinn in the middle of the discussion. Santana's eyes widen like any teenager would by being called out by the teacher in the middle of class. She slowly leans back to her own desk and taps her pen against her books, clearing her throat as she comes up with a response.

"Actually, I think it's a pretty radical move of this school and town for that matter to still be teaching Shakespeare to today's youth. What with all of the teen suicides gracing the covers of newspapers, it would seem as though Knox City is somewhat glorifying this kind of lifestyle." She explains, trying to ignore the looks from her peers she can sense out of the corners of her eyes. "While I can enjoy sharing thoughts on literature, I think it's important not to ignore the reactions of others. You stand there reading a paragraph from someone's paper and completely ignore the peanut gallery who are bullying another student's work. I'm sure you assume it's 'all in good fun' and 'kids will be kids', but my aunt always says 'when you assume, you make an ass out of you and me'." Quinn sucks in her lips, trying to cover up her smirk and the other students whisper.

"That's enough, Santana." Mrs. Roman tells her in a soft but stern voice and turns towards the other side of the classroom hoping that she's put an end to that.

"But, I thought this was an open discussion?" Santana asks with a slightly amused chuckle and leans back in her chair.

"An open discussion about Hamlet." The teacher points out and moves from behind her desk to the front of it, feeling confident she's gained control of the room again.

"You haven't even given me the chance to explain." Santana defends. Mrs. Roman sighs and waves towards Santana to give her the floor once more and the rest of the class watches on as the show continues. "School, not just this one, is like a story by Shakespeare. Everyone ignores the obvious problems, either assuming they will go away or that the 'rumors' are true. Instead of investigating or defending, they take extreme measures. Teachers ignore the bullying because they figure it will go away, but it doesn't. When the school is going around calling a girl a slut, the faculty assume it's true because everyone is saying it. Shakespeare writes his most troubled characters only finding solace in death, whether they are the killed or the killer. Sometimes both."

"And a lot of these rumors and false truths are usually brought on by society." Quinn interjects, garnering an appreciative smile and nod from Santana.

"Shakespeare is one of the world's most talented writers of all time. His work is art and should be subject to perception no matter how juvenile or deranged." Mrs. Roman explains, trying her best to keep her composure.

"Exactly my point. But, art or not, a world where there are kids who are afraid to go to school because of who they are is a fact. I can list, as I'm sure you would as well, all of the works in which Shakespeare's main characters or loved ones die due to these societal preferences or flaws." Santana continues with a sturdy jab of her pen cap into the very book they are discussing.

"I doubt that you with your minimal high school education can fully grasp the ideals and morals that Shakespeare was trying to profess in these stories." Mrs. Roman says in a very condescending tone and Santana does nothing to hide her irritation. There's nothing like adults thinking they know better just because they are old.

"And a woman who probably has two PhD's in a dead author's literary work comparing it to communism makes you more knowledgeable?" She challenges with an overly confident smirk. "Other than me not agreeing with you, I am highly offended that since I'm seventeen I'm looked down upon for my understanding of fact and more importantly my opinions. I mean, isn't that what English class really is anyway? Opinion." She arches an eyebrow and glances briefly at her fellow classmates who could care less about Shakespeare and are more interested in her causing a disruption and fighting with a teacher. "We read a bunch of novels, plays and poems and write lengthy essays about how we feel or what we think about the main characters choices or failures. Because, all these questions really want us to do is look into ourselves 'cause whatever answer we give is a direct reflection of how we feel about ourselves and the world around us. If you ask me, whoever wrote that essay was right."

"Enough." Mrs. Roman crosses her arms over her chest, sending Santana a look of warning.

"So, now I'm forced into silent submission because I don't agree with the apparent morality that is Shakespeare's work." Santana scoffs and crosses her arms in response to her teacher's standoff position.

"I said that's enough." Mrs. Roman repeats, but this time with more volume.

"I once read that Shakespeare had men play the female roles in his plays because he was gay. If that is in fact true, then more power to him for dancing on the line of societies pressures to be 'normal'." Santana ignores her teacher's demands to end her long rant and even Quinn who taps her arm to get her to shut up. "But, maybe the reason for all the death, tragedy and true loves torn apart in his stories is because he lived in a world so similar to the one we live in today. I guess I find it terrifyingly sad that a super old dead guy went through the same things so many of today's gay youth is struggling with at this very moment."

"Dyke." A football player coughs out and sends a few of the students in the room into half covered up fits of laughter. Santana rolls her eyes and turns around in her chair to give Karofsky a glare.

"You have something to say, say it." She spits out and the class's giggles simmer down. "Don't be a pussy and fake cough it into your gorilla fist." The other students gasp and go wide eyed at the challenge. Karofsky sits up in his chair and leans his forearms in his desk.

"Homo's are always saying everyone else is gay. Just sayin'." Karofsky replies with a smug look, but Santana just smirks back.

"So," She drawls out and turns fully around in her desk chair. "Are you calling me gay? Does that mean you're gay? Just sayin'."

"That's not…" He stammers, but a few of the other kids are already laughing quietly behind him.

"While I find labeling sexuality is irrelevant, especially when it comes to defending basic human rights, yes, I am." She says topped with a sweet, sarcastic smile. "Oh and the word you're looking for is lesbian."

"Santana!" Mrs. Roman's voice rises and she claps her hand, finally getting the attention of the entire room. "Congratulations, you get to stay after class."

Santana is of course deflated. Even when she tries to participate in good things like school, she manages to get herself into trouble. She spends the remaining twenty minutes left of class doodling in her notebook, dreading what awaits her when the bell rings.

She's not at all surprised when she is being escorted by Mrs. Roman herself down to the Principal's office. A lot of the students moving from class to class stare and whisper, wondering what she did and how much trouble she's going to get in. She waits in the outer office while Mrs. Roman obviously tells Principal Figgins the half truth of what happened in class.

"Miss Lopez," Principal Figgins starts and laces his fingers together on his desk. "Mrs. Roman claims you were being insubordinate, interrupting a class discussion to fulfill some sort of teenage need to argue." Santana crinkles her nose and stares at the man in confusion.

"It was an open discussion about an assignment. I didn't know I needed a note from my mom to speak my mind." She defends. "Look, can we just point out the rainbow elephant in the room?" Santana cuts off the adults before they can start talking again, catching their attention. "It's clear here that Mrs. Roman is your typical bible thumping homophobe. It's not my fault that she lives on the one way straight and narrow. I guess that's bound to happen in this dump of a town."

"I am not a homophobe." Mrs. Roman argues and takes a step closer to the principal's desk. "I have a gay uncle." Santana chuckles.

"Well, good for your uncle." She rolls her eyes and crosses her legs at the knee. "Let me lay it out for you. I was simply defending another student's work." She claps her hands and rests them to her lap. Principal Figgins shares a look with Mrs. Roman before sighing and clearing his throat.

"Since this is the first time you've been to my office, I will let you off with a warning." He explains, not even bothering to finish the paper work he had started when she had walked in.

Instead of arguing about how those stupid meathead football players should be the ones getting warnings, Santana nods in agreement. Hopefully the news of her being sent to the Principal's office stays off of her weekly reports to Miss P and that her aunt doesn't get a call. The last thing she needs is those two women on her back, even more than they already are.

The bell rings, signaling that second period is over, which she has clearly missed entirely. When she walks out into the hall, she is greeted by a concerned look Brittany. She slowly walks towards the cheerleader, wondering what it is that she had heard in the past forty two minutes that made her wait outside for her. But, before either girl can get a word out, someone else gets her attention.

"Hey, Blow-pez." A guy's voice calls out and when she turns in the direction, she is met with an ice facial. The shock of cold and the heat of her anger makes her unable to pick just one emotion. Her eyes are burning and she spits out some of the ice that got in her mouth. She can tell by the flavor that it's a slushie, a cherry slushie. "Oh, wait," She opens her eyes just enough to see that it's Karofsky and some other letterman. "She doesn't blow." He jokes and even though it's lame, his stupid friend finds it hilarious and hi-fives him.

"Are you okay?" Brittany asks, using her thumbs to push the icy drink away from Santana's eyes. "Come on," She says softly when there's no response and she grabs at Santana's hand. "Follow me."

Santana can only see the blurry figure of Brittany in front of her and when the air mixing with the slushie stings, she closes her eyes. She trusts Brittany to get her safely to where ever it is she is taking her, plus she doesn't have the energy to scowl over at her peers staring slack jawed and laughing at her.

"Is this icy facial a common occurrence?" Santana asks when she knows they are alone. Brittany sighs and moves towards her cheerleading locker. Hearing the sound of a combination lock being turned, Santana peeks one eye open, seeing that they are in fact in the cheerleading locker room.

"Yeah." Brittany answers, not at all impressed at the way this school's hierarchy maintains order. "Here." She says as she shoves a towel into Santana's hand. "Come on, you should rinse that stuff out of your eyes."

"Thanks." Santana mutters as she is lead through the twists and turns of the otherwise forbidden locker room. When she gets to the sink, Brittany holds her hair back for her so she can wash her face off without getting her hair wet. "At least it tastes delicious." She comments while she presses her fingers to her skin to see if it's still sticky.

"I guess." Brittany shrugs, letting go of Santana's hair when she stands up right and wipes her face down with the towel.

"Has this ever happened to you?" She asks, wondering if there was actually a mean enough person to toss a slushie in Brittany Pierce's face. But, Brittany just bites on her bottom lip and shakes her head. "What about Quinn? Or are all jocks and their girls off limits?" She rolls her eyes and tugs at her shirt when she realizes some ice when down between her boobs.

"We're not their girls." Brittany defends, offended by the assumption. Santana looks up from the mess that is her outfit. "At least I'm not." She shrugs and reaches forward to pick a piece of slush stuck to Santana's shoulder.

"Tell that to Finn Hudson." Santana huffs and gives up on looking fabulous and puts her hair up in a ponytail. Brittany drops her hand and looks for Santana's eyes that are too busy trying to find where else this slushie got itself. "He thinks you're his." She adds, only to establish why she'd suggested that the football players here think they have dibs on the school's cheerleaders.

"Well, I'm not." Brittany reminds her. She'd already told Santana that she could never be with Finn Hudson or anyone like him.

"Do you happen to have something I can change into?" Santana asks, changing the subject. It's not that she even realizes she is changing it; she just doesn't want to stand in sticky, wet, cold clothes any longer. Brittany smiles softly and nods.

The rest of the school day, Santana feels like she is trapped in gym class. The only clothes Brittany had to offer her were some Knox City High School Pantherette shorts and a 'Property of Knox' t-shirt. Thankfully, Santana had kept her aunt's tennis shoes in her own gym locker because her leather boots just did not do the outfit any favors.

She meets Brittany at her locker after school as promised and agrees to hang out for the afternoon. Seeing as Brittany has cheer practice though, Santana decides she can keep herself busy by doing some homework in the stands like she normally does. But seeing as it's oddly cold outside, Santana forgoes sitting in the stands while she waits for Brittany to finish with practice. In Boston, fifty degrees outside in winter is practically considered a sunny day in June. In Texas, fifty degrees feels like living in a freezer.

She walks through the halls that have become familiar to her over the past few months. The flyers on the bulletin boards are shiny and eye catching, but of nothing that really interests her. It's mostly lists and sign-up sheets for clubs that are in dire need of new members or faculty advisors. Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of music faintly playing from down the hall. Intrigued, she follows the noise until she comes up to an otherwise empty classroom.

Santana spots Tina, one of Quinn's friends, in what appears to be the school's choir room. She's singing and is accompanying herself on the piano. Santana listens, remembering the times with Uncle Roger when he'd play his guitar and she'd sing. She hasn't really sung much since Uncle Roger passed away. Not so much because it reminds her of him and the fact that he's not here anymore, it does and yes it's sad, but she hasn't so much had any reason to sing. Sure, she has sung a few songs in the shower and in the house when her mom wasn't home. But, she hasn't sung in a long while.

She kind of misses it. Uncle Roger told her that songs were ways to say things when words couldn't and she has always believed that. Most of her playlists on her iPod are 'feelings mixes' for when she has no way of verbally expressing everything that is going on inside of her.

The music stops and she realizes that she has been caught spying. Tina nervously smiles, waves and shifts in her spot on the piano bench. Santana nods and pushes herself away from the door frame she had been leaning against. Her tennis shoes shuffle and squeak against the floor as she makes her way into the room.

"What's crackin' girl Chang?" Santana asks, grabbing a plastic chair from across the room and pulls it closer towards the piano. Tina's head jerks back and she sends Santana a questioning glare. "What? That's me being friendly." She explains.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're not very good at friendly?" Tina asks as Santana makes her way into the room. Santana is taken aback at the girl's straight forwardness, but it's something she can appreciate at the same time. So, she smirks and gives a nod. "I'm only saying, I mean, you're kind of rude. And you're extremely closed off and slightly uptight." Santana sighs loudly and takes a seat on one of the plastic chairs closest to the piano.

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" She wonders aloud with a roll of her eyes. "I am not uptight. Bitchy and unfriendly, yes. But uptight?" Santana repeats the word that has been tossed at her more times than not since her arrival in Knox. Tina nervously lets out a tiny, airy laugh through her nose as she watches the way Santana pulls out her nail file and goes to town.

"I'm sure you can't be all bad." Tina comments and turns her attention to her music once more. "I mean," She shrugs her shoulders. "If Brittany Pierce likes you, then there's gotta be something there."

"Thanks?" Santana replies with uncertainty. "So, you're like, a musician or something?" She wonders and motions towards the piano with her nail file.

"I dabble." Tina tells her as her fingers stroke a few keys.

"Well, you sounded pretty good to me." Santana comments and nods towards the piano. "Do you write your own stuff?"

"Sometimes." Tina replies and taps a few keys, the sound echoes off of the walls in the room.

"Have you ever done that open mic night at Holly's?"

"I've always wanted to, but, I'm too nervous. What if I suck?" Tina shares her insecurity of not being up to par for the folk of Knox.

"I just told you that you were good. Isn't that enough motivation?" Santana laughs, wondering how someone who obviously has talent can feel like they could fail.

"That's what Mike says." She sighs. It takes a few seconds for Santana to remember that Tina's Mike is the same Mike that runs crazy on the football field. She can't believe that there is actually a guy in this school who is actually relatively normal. For a football player anyway.

"You and Mike, how does that work?" Santana asks and receives a perplexed look in return. "I mean, he's, like, this big start football player and you're…" She twists her lips, not exactly sure how to say what she means without sounding horribly offensive.

"A geek?" Tina finishes her question and she shrugs with a nod, figuring it's better for this girl to call herself names than for her to do so. "I don't know." Tina hums out, once again letting her fingers dance across the piano keys so effortlessly. "We went to nursery school, elementary and middle school together. We were always sat together because of alphabetical order." She laughs and Santana has to grin at that because it is kind of funny that they have pretty much the same last name but are of no relation. "Then, one day in high school it was like the mist was lifted I guess."

"The mist?" Santana arches an eyebrow.

"I think a lot of times we don't see the things that are right in front of us. Like, we know it's there, but we're afraid if we acknowledge if, it might be taken away from us." Tina tells her as she thumbs through her music sheets. "But, some things are worth the risk. Like, from eighth grade up until the middle of freshman year I faked having a stutter. I was shy and self conscious. I didn't want to be the center of attention or have the spotlight on me. It's weird because now that I'm dating a football player and I'm kind of thrust into it all, but it's worth it." She smiles at the thought of her boyfriend and how they came to be. "One day, Mike heard me practicing here in the choir room. I didn't know he was there. Finally he made himself known and he told me I was really talented. He also asked me why I was so shy because he thought I was too beautiful to walk in the shadows. I stopped stuttering after that and we have been together since sophomore year. Turned out, even though I was afraid of being in the sun, someone thought I was amazing. I took the chance at being myself and it turns out that the only thing I should have been afraid of was missing out on something incredible." She smiles and turns to Santana who appears deep in thought. "Aren't there things out there that make you want to take a leap into the sunlight?" Santana purses her lips and wonders if there would ever be something worth it all. But, before she can wrack her brain for something, her private time with Tina is interrupted.

"There you are." Brittany says from the doorway with a smile on her face. She's flushed from the cold and from her practice. Santana smiles back, happy to be taken away from the quest to find an answer she can't find. "Hey, Tina." Brittany waves as she walks into the room.

"Hey." Tina waves back and gathers her music to put it away in her bag.

"You ready to go?" Brittany asks, turning her attention back to Santana.

"Oh," She breathes out and glances over at Tina who is already getting up from the piano. "Yeah, sure." She grabs her bag and sets it on her shoulder. Before she leaves with Brittany she turns back towards Tina and offers a genuine smile. "You really are good. You should consider Holly's." She suggests. Tina nods appreciatively and the silence offers their goodbyes for them.

On the way home, Santana explains in further detail what had gotten her sent to the Principal's office. It's then that Brittany admits to that paper the teacher read actually came from her. Santana smiles, momentarily silenced by this piece of information and Brittany then says 'thanks' for defending her work. It seems more often than not, since her arrival in Knox, Brittany has been the only one to surprise her and in the good kind of ways. It's actually like Brittany herself is a surprise.

Brittany suggests they hang out at Aunt Linda's, because her mom is having one of her many town meetings at their house. Of course, Santana does not argue this option because she wants to stay as far away from Mayor Pierce as she can. Especially when she's on a power high during a meeting about school costs or whatever it is they discuss.

They take over the couch, which is easy because Aunt Linda is preparing for a night out with some of her girlfriends. Apparently, bingo night is really rockin' on Friday nights when there is no football game going on. Santana figures she'll just take her word for it. While she is getting the lists of what she cannot do while in the house alone, Brittany is channel surfing trying to find a movie they can get lost in. She nearly squeals and drops the remote in her hand, which quickly gets Santana's attention.

"The Vow." Brittany whispers and points to the screen. A trailer for the new Nicholas Sparks esque book turned movie plays on screen, inevitably sucking Brittany into all of its predictable storyline and ending glory. "I cannot wait to see that. Did you read the book?" She asks after the commercial ends and Santana raises her eyebrows and shakes her head. "Oh my God, it was so sad. I think I cried for eleven days straight after." Santana isn't sure if she's ever felt that much while reading a book. She doesn't even feel feelings that much in real life.

"It's just make believe." She explains, trying to ensure that the next time her friend reads a relatively sad book she won't resort to tears.

"It was based on a true story." Brittany defends, as though she knows the real people involved. Santana can't help but chuckle and holds her hands up in defeat.

The next fifteen minutes Brittany spends explaining the gist of the book, using the actors as the characters so that Santana can follow the story. Hearing how enthralled Brittany is about the story, Aunt Linda stands near, listening intently to how she explains it. She laughs when Santana laughs at the cute things, though she is sure her niece is laughing at it because it's silly and corny.

"What's so wrong with make believe anyway? Make believe is great because it's made up. Like, in movies there's rarely an unhappy ending. Television shows, sometimes the sad or the bad are really just ways to get to a bigger and better story." Brittany finally takes a moment to take a breath. Santana, not prepared for questions being thrown her way, sits there still trying to wrap her head around the synopsis of the book she'll never read. "I mean, yeah, it was super sad that Rachel McAdams lost her memory and couldn't remember her life and love she shared with Channing Tatum. But, the story didn't stop there. They wound up getting together in the end." She smiles and looks over Santana's shoulder, realizing that Aunt Linda had been listening the entire time.

"Yeah, but she also never regained her memory." Santana reminds her and tosses her aunt a look like she's got it all figured out. "All those little moments, forgotten forever."

"Well, what about all the new moments?" Brittany challenges innocently. "She winds up finding her way back to him. It's like… like friends who wind up dating. They still have a history and little moments, but, now there are new moments." Aunt Linda clears her throat and goes back to getting ready for an evening out. Brittany's eyes drop to the space between them, desperate to find an argument to prove to Santana that anything is possible. "A laugh they've known for forever is suddenly sexy. A touch of their finger tip sends a shock."

"Name one movie where friends getting together works out. No drama, just clean and cut." Santana challenges. Brittany twists her lips and her eyes flicker up as if checking the front of her mind for the answer. "Exactly, there's none that exist. Something always goes wrong, even if they are meant to be." She points out. Before Brittany can counter that with another idea, Aunt Linda comes back into the living room and Santana sighs, just waiting for her aunt to share her opinion.

"You know, I didn't go out with your Uncle Roger right away and we were friends first. Well, he was friends with your dad." Aunt Linda comments. "He kept asking me out, but I was skeptical. He was this big football player and every girl in school wanted him."

"How'd he get you to go out with him?" Brittany wonders.

"Well, I had agreed on one date because he was relentless. He took me to go see a showing of 'Say Anything…' down at the drive-in." She smiles remembering that night all over again. "He'd found out through your father that it was my favorite movie."

"So," Santana looks from her aunt to Brittany who is enamored with the story. "He won you over by taking you to go see your favorite eighties movie?"

"Oh ,no. It was the next day." Aunt Linda chuckles, shakes her head and looks away towards the television. "He stood out on the lawn," She points towards the front of the house. "Holding a boom-box over his head playing 'Invisible Touch' by Genesis."

"Isn't the song from that movie 'In Your Eyes'?" Santana points out with confusion.

"Yeah, and that's what I told him." Aunt Linda laughs. "He said that, 'Invisible Touch' was playing in his truck when he first saw me and changed his life. To this day, whenever that song comes on, I remember him standing out there with his long hair, holding a boom-box."

"That is so corny." Santana lets out in small disappointment.

"Maybe." Aunt Linda beams down at her niece. "But, it worked."

"I think it's romantic." Brittany says in a dreamy voice, loving the ending to this little story. Santana rolls her eyes and sighs loudly, not at all surprised.

"Well, I'm off." Aunt Linda tells them with a wave and grabs her bag. "I shouldn't be home late." The girls send her off with goodbyes and are soon left to their own devices.

"Hey!" Brittany shouts when Santana grabs the remote from her hand.

"No more Lifetime!" Santana yells back, in a playful manner of course and tugs her hand away when Brittany goes to grab the remote back.

"You love Lifetime." Brittany tells her, reminding her friend of the marathon they'd watched just last week.

"I loathe Lifetime." She scoffs, offended at such an accusation. Brittany cheers when she finally gets a hand on the remote and tries to pry it out of Santana's.

"Come on, gimme." Brittany pleads and pouts her lips. Santana, never one to deny that pout anything, groans and releases the remote.

"Fine." She sighs in defeat, watching Brittany's fingers dance along the buttons on the remote control. Santana has a thought and for once, she goes with it. "How is it that you work on cars every day but, your hands are so soft?" Santana asks as she grabs and inspects Brittany's hand in her own. Taken a bit by surprise at the feeling of Santana's fingers touching her skin, it takes a moment for Brittany to come up with a response.

"It's called lotion." Brittany replies with her own brand of sarcasm. Santana playfully rolls her eyes.

"Yeah." She bites on her bottom lip and gives Brittany a questioning stare. "Well, you do it good." Brittany smirks, unsure of how to take that.

"Yours are just as soft." Brittany comments and turns their hands around so she can give Santana's hand a once over.

"Girls who like girls appreciate the silky touch of a smooth, slender lady hand." She purrs as she wriggles her fingers. "These are our most readily available tools, so we gotta keep 'em pillow soft." She playfully winks and then unceremoniously pulls her hand away.

"When'd you know?" Brittany asks, seemingly out of the blue and lets her own now empty hand fall to her lap. Santana tilts her head and furrows her brow. "That you were gay." Brittany clarifies and Santana mouths 'oh' as she drops her gaze to the space that separates them.

"Umm," Santana clears her throat. "I think somewhere deep down I always kinda knew." She admits and her eyes flicker up to gauge Brittany's reaction. To her surprise, there isn't much of a reaction. "I think it was easier for me to accept it when my parents got divorced. I guess that's one thing I can thank them for." She chuckles sadly. "The more me and Puck went out and did our thing, the more random hookups I had with girls."

"How many girls?" Brittany inquires, but instead of responding Santana just gives her a smirk that tells her she is not going to get that answer. "So, your parents are okay with it?" Brittany picks another question.

"No." Santana says. "They… they actually don't know. I mean, I never told them." She explains. "I mean, it's not like I've kept it from them. I just hate the idea of having to 'come out'. Ya know? Why do I have to come up with this big speech about why I love girls the way I'm suppose to feel about boys?"

"I think people, especially parents, expect an explanation for why their kids love anyone. Regardless if it's a boy or a girl." Brittany offers with a shrug.

"That would be in a perfect world." Santana muses softly.

"Besides," Brittany continues. "I think it's the person. The one you're 'supposed' to love. I don't think it should be gay or straight or whatever. I think that there's this one person that, regardless of sexuality, that we're supposed to fall in love with. It could be a stranger we haven't met yet or, it could be someone we've known for forever."

"Well, now that's an impossibility that we've already discussed." Santana laughs and shakes her head.

"How's that?" Brittany pushes, clearly wanting some more of Santana's ways of the world knowledge.

"People who have known one another for a long time trying to get together does not work out." She explains with a finality that makes it seem as though she has been preaching it for hours on end now.

"Says who?" She's not surprised. Brittany has this way of keeping a conversation going. She smirks at that because Brittany can always keep her on her toe, that's for sure.

"Says Dawson's Creek." Santana decides on with a firm nod. When Brittany tilts her head and looks confused, she knows something interesting her way comes.

"Joey and Pacey got together." Brittany says with a bit of uncertainty.

"But, that's not how the story started." Santana points out.

"What are you talking about? Joey and Pacey were always supposed to be together." Brittany defends and Santana arches an eyebrow.

"No. Dawson and Joey were always the 'star-crossed lovers' and 'soul mates'." Santana explains. "I mean, the first two seasons were all 'will they or won't they?'"

"Hmm, I guess I was always rooting for Joey and Pacey since the beginning. They both kind of felt sorry for themselves." Brittany explains with a shrug of her shoulders. "When they were together though, they never felt sorry for each other which I think is what they had both thought they wanted. But, they didn't want to be with someone who felt sorry for them. They wanted to be with someone who made them forget their troubles. The person who made them feel like a better person without even having to try." She looks down at the couch cushion she's sitting on and tucks her foot under her leg. "To me, that's a soul mate. Being there for someone, without even knowing how, why or when." She carefully explains. Santana grins and Brittany looks away feeling self conscious under her stare. "What?" Brittany asks, watching the way Santana's fingers twirl her dark hair out of the corner of her eye.

"Nothing, it's just that... when I look at you, when I'm with you I feel like I did when I was a kid." Santana tells her, eyes boring into the blonde's trying to see her worlds play within those deep blues.

"You're still a kid." The cheerleader chuckles and pokes the other girl's dimple on her cheek with her finger.

"You know what I mean." Santana swats away her hand. "I feel like... nothing is really important except being with you and that... this miserable, stinkin' world doesn't exist. I'm a nicer person when I'm with you." She admits quietly, unable to control the nervous laugh that escapes her lips when all Brittany does is grin. "Why is that?" She questions, tilting her head to the side letting it gently rest against the back of the couch in her aunt's living room. Brittany shrugs her shoulders as she picks at the little bits of frayed denim on her jeans.

"Maybe because when we're together, we're unstoppable." Brittany jokes, her eyes widening with amusement and her smile widens. She receives a hearty chuckle from Santana, who lowers her eyes for a moment, only to lift them and gaze at the cheerleader through her eyelashes. "I don't know." She shakes her head, sighs out and brings her hand up behind Santana's shoulder and massages it gently. "What I do know, is that, I think you're the most awesomest girl I've ever known. Maybe you don't let it show, at least not to everyone else, but that's what I think makes you even more awesome." Santana half smiles, enamored by the sweetness of Brittany's words and the way her voice sounds. "Maybe it's selfish, but, I kind of like that I get to see how incredible you are," She shrugs. "Makes me feel special." Santana looks away and down at her lap.

"I'm not as awesome as you think, Britt." Santana sighs out. "I'm not the same Santana Lopez you knew."

"Says who?"

"Says everyone. Says me. Says all the shit I've done that got me sent to this hell hole." She explains with a huff. "My parents, aunt, the judge… they all think sending me here was going to turn me into this perfect person. Like throwing me into the middle of nowhere is going to change me into the fucking girl next door. Well, it's not. I know how the world works and I'm fine with it." She looks off into the distance and nods to herself as if assuring herself of something. "As soon as I'm done here, I'm gonna be goin' back home and if I'm lucky get the hell outta there too. Then again, with my luck, I'll be trapped there forever like I'm trapped here now." Brittany shakes her head and slumps into her seat.

"This isn't about you being someone else." Brittany blurts out in frustration. "It's about you being someone better." She turns in her spot to face Santana and stare her dead in the eyes. "You're so headstrong about being you, but, who the hell are you?" She challenges in exasperation and Santana is taken aback.

"You…" Santana swallows hard giving her some time to think of her words. "You seriously have no idea what kind of week I've had. So, please spare me." She waves her hand in the air and turns her attention back to the television they haven't even been watching.

"No." Brittany tells her sternly and grabs the remote to shut the television off. Santana turns towards her in confused shock. "Stop shutting me out." She demands as she jams the remote onto the couch cushion.

"I'm not shutting you out, Brittany." Santana defends with frustration.

"You are." Brittany nearly shouts back at her. Silence slips between them, both letting out sighs of the tired song and dance they've been doing for the past couple of months since Santana's arrival. "Just when I think you're opening up to me, you take ten steps back and put this fence up."

"I've already told you so much more than I have ever told anyone." Santana assures her, still grasping to that bit of armor that she knows it around her even if Brittany can see it and has been clawing at.

"You know, sometimes I catch a glimpse of the girl I once knew and then other times all I see is someone pretending to not be her. Maybe that's the problem. Maybe you're just so afraid to admit that you might actually like it here and that you're not as bitter or against the world as you claim to be." She waves her hands in the air in emphasis and exhaustion. "Maybe, just maybe, you're afraid to actually enjoy yourself because then you might have something to lose. If you don't care, then you don't get hurt. Well, that's not life. You're only half living, just going through the motions. What's the fun in that? You just... you've gotta be open." Santana tilts her head and watches an array of emotions run over Brittany's face. "It's like...you've locked this door and you hid the key somewhere, and you can't remember where you put it." With those last words hanging in the air, Brittany walks away and out of the house.

Santana is dumbfounded. There were rarely times in their childhood where she and Brittany argued about anything and there even less times when Brittany yelled at her. In fact, she's pretty sure this would mark the first time her friend has ever raised her voice at anyone. As much as she feels like she should probably go after her, Santana decides against it. It's mostly due to the fact that she is kind of glued to the couch with shock and a tad bit of fear.

But a greater feeling takes her over. She's angry. Who the hell does Brittany think she is? She doesn't know Santana, not the way she used to. She's different; they are both different. Santana is sure that if she got up and went to Brittany right now, she would most likely say things that she will later regret. So, instead of marching over to the Pierce's and setting Brittany straight, she settles for her own form of therapy.

Curiosity gets the best of her and she finds herself looking through Aunt Linda's desk, in search of an iPod or mix tape or anything. She comes across what looks to be the first iPod ever invented. Luckily, it turns on and is on full charge. She brings it to her room, grabs her own headphone and sits cross legged on her bed.

There, right where it's supposed to be, is 'Invisible Touch' by Genesis on Aunt Linda's iPod. She takes a deep breath, plugs her ear buds into her ears and presses play. The music makes the rest of the house feel silent. Almost like she is in a movie montage where the music tells the story rather than the crappy dialogue that is written. As she listens to the words, which are kind of good, she moves from her bed to walk around the house.

She looks out to the front lawn when she gets to the living room and smirks at imagining Uncle Roger standing out on the lawn holding a boom-box over his head. Even before he got with Aunt Linda he was whipped. She thinks back to the conversation she had with Quinn about love and how she is blind. Obviously Aunt Linda had been blind, Uncle Roger was right in front of her face and it took so long for her to finally open her eyes and take a chance. Santana realizes that the only people she believes ever had a true love were her aunt and uncle, and look where that got them.

Towards the middle of the song, she's standing in the kitchen and wonders if it's as cold as it was this afternoon. She opens the back screen door and pokes a hand out. It's not so bad, not warmer, but it's also not any colder. She chances a step outside until she is standing on the small deck that Uncle Roger had put together himself. It's not much, but it's enough for the backyard they have. When the song ends, she hits the back button to start it all over again.

A light from her right catches her attention and she spots Brittany walking out to her own backyard. She has a small toolbox in her hand that she sets to the ground beside something big with a sheet over it. Santana's fingers tap to the beat of the song as she watches Brittany pull the sheet back, exposing some sort of car part that she's never seen before. She steps towards the end of the porch and leans her arms on the wood, just watching from a far.

The light from the Pierce's backyard mixes in with the moonlight and it makes it look as though Brittany is standing in a mist of glitter and white smoke. She figures it's from the heat and cold that is tonight's current Texas temperature. As she watches her work her tools tighten and loosen bolts, she wonders if she should have just told Brittany about her mother being in rehab. It's not like she won't find out eventually. There's something about Brittany that makes Santana's curtain of armor open, even if only a little. Regardless of these questions and uncertainties, Santana can't help but think how pretty Brittany is when she thinks no one is watching.

---

All Saturday, Santana had the intention of going over and offering an apology to Brittany. After a sleepless night of tossing and turning, Santana had come to the conclusion that if she is going to make it through the rest of her time in Texas, she's going to have to stop pushing people away. Especially her friends, even if there is only two of them.

But, each time she plucked up the courage to walk on over to the Pierce house, she retreated back into her room. Everything she thought of saying felt stupid. If anything, Brittany should be the one to apologize. She is the one that yelled and stormed off. Then again, Santana antagonized her by being evasive. Then there's Mrs. Pierce who would surely not be happy about finding Santana at her front door looking for her daughter.

She spent the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening figuring that if Brittany wanted to talk, she knew where to find her. It was Brittany, after all, who left abruptly. But, when that never happened, Santana finally decided to take things into her own hands. She marched up to the Pierce door, took a deep breath and knocked.

Ten minutes later, Santana is hopping out of Aunt Linda's truck and she is immediately greeted by the sound of music blaring from the garage. The large door is wide open, which allows the crooning of some old song pour out into the air and enters any passer buyer's ears. As she walks towards the doors of Pierce Parts and Tires, her mind races through the conversation she'd had with Brittany and why there was even a need for either of them to apologize. It's then that she realizes they don't say 'I'm sorry'.

They've never had to apologize to one another before, so why start now? All Brittany wants is for Santana to trust her and confide in her. Perhaps, to someone like Santana that's asking a lot. But for someone like Brittany it's a given in any kind of relationship, especially friendship. Santana thinks that maybe if she just shows up looking for Brittany, then this will be her opening up again, trying to keep the door open.

Santana leans up against the wide opened garage door, arms loosely crossed over her chest, and she smiles as she watches Brittany gracefully move along to the music playing softly from an old stereo on a work bench. The radio is tuned to some oldies station, probably set by one of the old guys that work at Pierce Parts and Tires. But, even the corny music can't take away from the flawlessness Santana is witnessing.

Brittany dances on, oblivious that she has an audience, with eyes closed and this intensity on her face Santana has seen a few times before. She smirks when the cheerleader spins perfectly, arms stretching out for empty air, but her hands seem to catch onto something that she pulls quickly back into her body. She remembers watching from her bedroom window summers ago, staring on quite like she is now, and wondering how strong the passion was inside of Brittany to make her dance like she does. It's intriguing to say the least, and utterly moving. Santana could watch her dance for hours.

As the song comes to a close, it appears as the dance itself has as well. Santana looks on as Brittany walks over to the table that the radio is on and grabs a towel, dabbing her forehead and neck. When she is certain there is enough silence, Santana makes herself known by applauding the show she's been unknowingly given. Brittany is startled of course, but she barely shows it, only glancing over her shoulder to find the source of the clapping. She smiles warmly, turns her body around and motions with her hand for Santana to come further into the garage.

"Hey." Santana greets, bringing her hands to her sides, awkwardly shoving them into her pockets that can hardly fit her fingers.

"Hi." Brittany's smile only gets wider, her breathe still heavy from her workout.

"Your dad said you'd be here." She explains, pointing over her shoulder towards the open door she's just come from. "I didn't know you'd be, ya know, busy." She says. "I can go if you need…" But she stops talking when Brittany shakes her head and tosses the towel back to the table, walking in the direction of her friend.

"You can stay." Brittany replies softly, placing her hands comfortably on her hips and stares at the girl before her.

"So," Santana bounces on the balls of her feet, eyes flicker around the room of the dirty garage and shrugs her shoulders. "Do you, like, ever work on cars here? Or do you just dance?" They both laugh. Brittany nods her head up and down as she lifts her forearm to her cheek to wipe some excess sweat.

"It's the perfect space to practice." She informs her friend, a playful grin on her lips. "When I'm not busy fixing someone's truck of course." She winks and then glances back over at the radio when a familiar songs chorus comes through the speakers.

"Journey." They say in unison. Giggles pass between them and they nod, obviously both knowing the words to 'Faithfully'.

"So, am I gonna get another show?" Santana asks, and she lowers her head when she feels the heat rush to her face, realizing how cheeky her question actually sounds. But she lifts her eyes back up when she hears the light sound of laughter.

"How 'bout a dance lesson?" Brittany offers, raising one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows and her index finger, beckoning Santana over. Santana gives her a weary smile, but, she holds her hand out and takes a deep breath in, letting it out slowly. "Or… just a dance?" Dark eyes flicker towards the radio when a new song comes on, well, a different song. Of course its super retro, nothing like classic rock in the styling's of Bruce Springsteen. Actually, it's a cover of 'These Arms of Mine', but still considered retro.

"I think that can be arranged." Santana smirks, carefully making her way over towards Brittany and accepting her hand. She laughs, shakes her head and glances down at the space between their bodies, and the way their hands are held in the air. "This is very 'Dirty Dancing'." She comments, getting a nasally giggle from the other girl.

"Then let's make it a little dirty." Brittany says softly catching Santana off guard.

Brittany steps forward, pressing her hips to Santana's and wraps her arm firmly around her waist to ensure close proximity. The shorter girl's breathe catches, but it's subtle enough to go unnoticed, and her hands come up to rest on the blonde's forearms gently. She looks at Brittany, a soft smile on her lips and a curious sparkle in both sets of eyes as the song on the radio echoes in the otherwise empty garage.

Brittany leads, swaying their bodies from side to side, getting Santana to follow her motions easily. Santana's hand slowly glides up Brittany's arm, the one that is holding her close, while the other finds its place on her hip. She grins with an airy giggle when Brittany lifts her free hand to swipe some of her dark hair from her shoulder and to her back, letting her fingers linger on the skin by her neck.

"I used to watch you dance." Santana admits, her voice just above a whisper and her eyes fall to glance at the space that no longer exists between their bodies. She tries to fight the smile on her face, but she loses that battle, and bashfully lifts her head exposing her expression. Brittany smirks in response, nods slightly, and lets her fingers trail down to lightly press her hand to the skin just above Santana's top.

"I know." Brittany tells her, her eyes gazing upon all of the features on Santana's face before meeting her dark browns once more.

The hand against Santana's chest gently pushes and she allows herself to be guided, bending backwards, feeling safe that she won't fall with the aid of Brittany's hand securely at the small of her back. Her fingers trace down the length of Santana's body as she arches her back, her front on display for blue eyes. She gasps when she feels Brittany's hand pull their hips closer together as she slowly lifts herself upright, instantly meeting those seemingly tortured blues and her lips part with puffs of air escaping and entering.

Brittany's hand comes up to Santana's dark hair, and she runs her fingers through the soft like silk locks until she is lightly gripping the back of her neck. They continue to move with ease, legs between legs and hands becoming adventurous over one another's body. A tanned hand finds the hem of a soaked with sweat t-shirt, her fingers twist the material into a knot and she tugs on the fabric making her knuckles rub up against slick skin.

"Tell me something?" Brittany breathes out, her thumb and middle finger rubbing at the pressure points at the back of Santana's neck. Her brown eyes half roll in the back of her head at the mixture of sensations running through her body, but she still manages to nod at the question.

"Anything." She replies almost immediately, fighting against the weight of her eyelids to keep eye contact with Brittany.

"Did you think of me?" The cheerleader inquires in a quiet voice, tilting her head to the side as she watches her hand move from the back of the other girl's neck and to her shoulder. When she looks back to Santana's face, she recognizes the way her lips move in the shape of questions and she nervously bites her bottom lip. She embarrassingly chuckles at herself, shakes her head, all the while continuing to move their bodies around the small space that's become their dance floor. "Did you forget me?" She rewords, hope obviously laced in her voice and Santana pulls her head back a bit to get a good look at Brittany's face. Santana shakes her head, her eyebrows knit and unknit and she licks her lips.

"I don't think I could forget you." Santana laughs out softly, finally getting a relieved half smile from Brittany, who dips her head bashfully. "You were the best part about Texas." She muses as her fingers lightly graze the skin she's met just below the sweaty t-shirt at Brittany's waist and she leans her face forward. "You still are." She clarifies in a hushed tone, her eyes bore into the blonde's who nervously breaks the deep eye contact and crinkles her nose. Slowly, Brittany brings their dancing to a halt but continues to keep Santana's body held tightly to hers and she lifts her gaze back up.

"So are you." Brittany whispers, audibly and visibly gulping, her focus flickering from brown eyes to luscious parted lips. She somehow finds one of Santana's hands and grips it loosely with her own, guiding them up to her chest and Santana's eyes widen.

"Your heart is racing." She croaks out in surprise and all Brittany offers her is a nod and a tiny smile, a barely there 'yeah' creeps from her lips. Brittany clears her throat and shakes her head to rid herself of her sudden anxiety.

"I'm nervous." Brittany admits, flattening her hand to the back of Santana's that is still pressed to her chest, bumping with the quick beats of her heart.

"Wh-why?" Santana asks, her voice low and husky and eyes dart between those shimmering blues. Brittany half smiles, turns serious for a moment, only to smile again.

"Because," Brittany begins, adjusting her hold at the small of Santana's back, shifting her feet from side to side momentarily. "I'm gonna kiss you." She confesses.

Santana is rendered speechless, unable to find the power to think of words let alone say them even if they came to her. The song on the radio slowly fades away, eventually a new one takes over but it's merely background noise. There's a part of her that wants to end the waiting, the anticipation of what is to come, pulling apart at every bit of her. That same part wants so desperately to move to the tips of her toes, grab Brittany by the neck and pull her into a kiss.

But, she doesn't. Instead, she stands stock still, only able to stare back at the girl who has just said she's going to kiss her. Something stutters in her chest and the air gets caught in her throat as she watches Brittany's head tilt to the side and tongue pokes out to moisten her lips. Her eyes instantly fall closed when she feels the puff of air pour through her slightly parted lips and hit her own.

She opens her mouth at the feeling of Brittany's lips taking in her top lip and gently sucking on it. Her tongue barely grazes the blonde's bottom lip, and she feels a hand to come rest at the back of her neck like before. When Brittany separates their lips to tilt her head to the other side, Santana's eyes pop open and the hand still pressed to Brittany's chest pushes.

Her head jerks back and she stares back at Brittany with wide, alarmed eyes. Her eyebrows knit together, her mouth opens and closes as she again tries to find words, but this time to say something else. When Brittany moves forward once more, Santana only steps back and straightens her arm out, to keep her at a distance. Brown eyes flitter around the room as she tries to regain the control over the movement of her legs and function of her brain.

"Santana." Brittany says softly, finally breaking the silent tension that is clearly between them suddenly. Her hand comes up to cover her mouth and her eyes open a bit wider, shaking her own head in realization. "I… I…" She stammers, nervously tucking nonexistent stray hairs behind her ear.

"You… you shouldn't have done that." Santana tells her, looking at the ground by Brittany's feet, obviously avoiding her eyes. She points over her shoulder towards the door of the garage and then runs her fingers through her hair as a distraction. "I… I should go." She says and she is already turning toward the door but Brittany takes a step regardless.

"Wait, don't…" Her shoulders slump and she watches on dejectedly as Santana disappears beyond the big garage door and to her Aunt's truck. "Don't go." Brittany finishes, but her words are only there for her to hear.