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 Culinary Magazine after all. Her plan was to go to Adjacent for lunch this Tuesday and apologize to the chef. She'd explain that her boss didn't want a review for a restaurant this new, and that was final. In other words, she would lie again to cover her first 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, her fingers would twitch, her face would fall, and her nose would scrunch. Worst of all, 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. That face always broke Brittany's heart, just a little, 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 so 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. While Santana liked to think of herself as the fiercest woman in Boston—which she was, in a way—Brittany knew better. She knew about her weaknesses and fears, 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 wanted to 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?

Pouting hard, she 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 restaurateur would eventually get 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 easily they just clicked. They still had their occasional arguments now, 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 2 PM 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. Although she'd already memorized it by heart (when studying the prices and perusing the offerings for her research), she pretended to study the menu, figuring that 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 a few hours ago, and disturbing her didn't seem like the best idea. 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 into 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.

As she swallowed the last bite of the most delicious tres leches she'd ever tasted, Brittany made a note to include Mercedes Jones in her review.

The woman really deserved all the praise in the world. Brittany was genuinely impressed by Santana's staff. Of course, this wasn't exactly surprising; it was rare for Santana to aim for anything but the best. She'd definitely gotten the crème de la crème, and it was obviously paying off. Not to mention she herself was a wonderful chef.

Brittany set her fork on her plate and awkwardly looked around, wondering if she should just ask Marley for the check and then leave. Santana was obviously busy in the kitchen, and Brittany didn't want to bother her, so perhaps she could stop by another day. That being said, she was starting to miss her own home-cooked meals. She loved the food at Adjacent, but she didn't want to grow tired of it due to eating here so often in a short span of time. Besides, cooking always calmed her, and she was in need of something to soothe her growing nerves. This whole situation was starting to weigh heavily on her mind.

Just as she was about to get Marley's attention, she noticed Santana exiting the kitchen, toque in hand and white jacket slung across her arm. Their eyes met immediately, and Santana disappeared behind a wall after a wink that had Brittany grinning.

After two short minutes, the chef was walking toward Brittany in different clothes, smiling brightly as she pulled out the chair and sat down in front of her.

"Hey you," Santana said.

"Hey. You changed?"

"Oh, yeah. I don't like going out with my smelly cook clothes."

"Sounds like you," Brittany chuckled.

Santana bit her lip. "How did you like the food?"

"It was so good. You guys are really on top of your stuff."

Santana smiled proudly, her eyes sparkling with noticeable satisfaction. It was easy to see that she was insanely happy about her achievements, and with good reason.

"Well, you know, we can't really afford to lose steam with..." she looked around, "you-know-who writing about us."

"And yet you're here talking to me..." Brittany teased.

Santana snorted, "She can't hold that against me. I mean, have you seen yourself? I'm sure she'd understand why I'm...distracted. Besides, I've been busting my ass in that kitchen for months. I think I'm allowed a break, don't you?"

Brittany grinned. "Absolutely. Plus, if she were here right now, I'm sure she herself would be distracted by the...ah, pretty sight."

Smiling widely, Santana said, "Well, maybe I should show a bit more skin next time...if that's what she's into."

"Or he."

Confused, Santana frowned. "He?"

"Yeah, I mean...what if Susan is actually a guy?"

Santana gaped before her eyes widened, and she quickly scanned the room, like she was seeing things in a completely different way now. Brittany smirked; this could easily play in her favor.

"Fuck, I hadn't even thought about that," Santana breathed out. "Total genius."

"Me or the guy passing for a woman?" Brittany asked playfully.

The chef smiled. "You, always."

"Well, I mean, it could be true. Guy passes for woman to be completely incognito? It's not exactly unheard of..."

Brittany knew she was digging herself deeper into her hole, but at this point, telling the truth was off the table. Santana just looked so...happy. She couldn't do this to her—not here, not now.

"You're right. I just...damn," Santana murmured. After a beat, she shook her head. "Whatever, I promised myself I wouldn't worry about it anymore. Holly and Mercedes were right; we've got a kickass menu, and if Spite doesn't know it, then I have a few choice places I could shove a pan of roasted mussels into."

Brittany scrunched her nose. "What a waste."

Santana chuckled. "Yeah, you're right. Maybe I should choose something else."

"Well, definitely not that breaded eggplant. It was really good, S."

"I'm glad you liked it. My girl deserves the best."

After a pause, Brittany bit her lip. "Your girl?"

Santana opened her mouth as she realized what she had implied. She thought about backtracking but cleared her throat instead, brushing the question off.

"I didn't have the chance to thank you properly." She smiled impishly.

Taken aback, Brittany raised an eyebrow. "For what? The review?"

"Yeah..." Santana trailed off. "And I want to. Thank you properly, that is."

As Brittany noticed the curve of her smile, the playful spark in her eyes, and the way she leaned over just enough to display a hint of cleavage, she knew she was done for. Resisting the woman was a fight she didn't want to win. So, swallowing, she asked, "And what would that entail?"

Surprised—or perhaps pleased would be the right word—that Brittany wasn't resisting her, Santana felt her heartbeat quicken. "Follow me," she said.