Screwed was an understatement.
Brittany had never felt so lost. She had no idea what to do regarding the giant lie her mouth had produced, and she had no clue how to break it to Santana that she wouldn't be able to write a review for the Culi Mag after all. Her plan was to go to Adjacent for lunch this Tuesday and apologize to the chef. She'd explain her boss didn't want a review for a restaurant this new and that was final. In other words, she would lie to cover another lie.
Granted, that was playing with fire, but Brittany had rationalized that she preferred getting burned to being at the end of Santana's wrath. Snixx was a terrible person to be up against, and she did not forgive easily.
The one thing Brittany really dreaded was Santana's reaction to the news. She'd be disappointed; her shoulders would slump, and her fingers would twitch. Her face would fall, and her nose would scrunch. Her chocolate brown eyes, which were softer than Santana liked to admit, would lose a bit of their spark, and her full lips would pout in the subtlest way. Brittany had a weak spot for that face, and it was killing her to think that she'd be the reason for it.
It'd take a minute or two for Santana to hide her disappointment, and eventually she would bounce back and pretend to shrug it off. The thought of it was completely depressing. Brittany didn't want to disappoint her. She wanted to be the one behind her beautiful laugh and shy glances—she loved when she caused the woman to blush or be at a loss for words. It was a rare thing but always adorable, even if Santana would deny it.
It was strange that after all these years Brittany still remembered such small things, yet she couldn't even recall her last girlfriend's favorite meal or band. Santana was magnetic; it was impossible to find her boring or bland. She was also always full of surprises, which was one aspect of their relationship that Brittany had always loved. She liked to think of herself as the fiercest woman in Boston—which she was, in a way—but Brittany knew better. She knew her weaknesses, and she knew her fears. She knew that insects freaked her out and that she was terrified of failure.
Brittany remembered how Santana would walk around acting like she was tough shit, but then curl up into her at night and shyly ask if she could be the small spoon. Maybe they had both truly changed over the years, but Brittany was certain Santana's small vulnerabilities hadn't. She had recognized them when she'd seen her drenched and trembling, and she'd embraced them when she'd cuddled with her all night.
Brittany could slap herself for ruining their reconnection. It was all tainted by her ridiculous plan and her inability to say the truth.
Now, as she walked down an alley, a shortcut she'd recently discovered, she couldn't help but frown.
This sucks, she whined to herself. She was a grown woman and somehow she'd acted like a thoughtless teenager, all to impress her...
Her what?
She pouted hard and kicked a dried-up leaf on the ground. She and Santana were just starting to get back on track. They'd talked a good amount, and Brittany truly felt like they could be...well, more than good friends. She'd realized this after Santana had left Sunday morning, but her thoughts had been a bit confusing. She knew she was acting hot and cold with Santana, and she was sure the chef would eventually be sick of it.
But what could she do? There were still so many doubts swirling around. And yet, she couldn't get the woman out of her head. Sure, their relationship had never been easy, but their bond was. She felt like herself with Santana, even if a part of her identity was still hidden, and she loved how easy they just clicked. They still had their occasional arguments, but it was nothing compared to how fast they used to set each other off.
After a short while, she reached the restaurant and swallowed nervously, taking her sweet time to cross the street. She was still unsure about how to proceed.
As she pushed the door open and Kurt genuinely smiled at her, she noticed the place was only moderately busy. Then she remembered it was already after 2PM on a Tuesday, so it wasn't exactly surprising. She sat down at the same table she had the last time and thanked Kurt when he gave her the menu. She had already memorized it by heart, studying the prices and perusing the meals, but she figured Kurt would be pretty damn suspicious if she admitted that. Perhaps she was a bit paranoid, but as her mother would always sing-song, better safe than sorry.
After a few minutes, a waitress took her order—sparkling water and the breaded eggplant with chimichurri sauce—and Brittany had to take a deep breath, wondering if Santana would come sit with her for a while. She knew she was probably busy in the kitchen, even if the restaurant wasn't as crowded as it must have been one or two hours ago, and disturbing her wasn't exactly on her list of priorities. Brittany didn't want Santana to think she was trying to sabotage her. However, the chef had asked her to stop by, so it wasn't like this was out of the blue.
Brittany was about to ask the waitress—Marley, if she remembered correctly—for Santana, but she stopped herself when she realized that would be selfish. She'd noticed Kurt had disappeared in the kitchen shortly after seating her, so perhaps he had already alerted the chef of her presence. After a few seconds, Brittany sighed, deciding to wait and see.