"Hey, you're new. Obviously. You said you were a freshman. Duh. Um, are you going to the coffee shop? I'm Santana, by the way, in case you forgot…yeah." Santana awkwardly sticks out her hand, and Brittany gladly takes it. Santana's hands are warm and soft, and she imagines that it would be wonderful to hold them. If she wanted that. Which she definitely does not. At least…yeah, no. She really doesn't want to want that.

"Yeah, I think so. My roommate kind of kicked me out of the room, so I don't have anywhere else to go. Except the library, I guess, but I really don't want to go back there."

"Your roommate kicked you out? That's a bitch move."

"It's okay. She needs to sing for an audition tomorrow, so it's fine. I don't think I would have come here if she hadn't kicked me out."

"In that case, I'm glad she kicked you out." Santana smiles at her again, then makes a face when she realizes how lame that probably sounded and rushes to amend it. "Because, you know, we need more members. And…support."

Brittany just smiles. Despite her obvious hang-ups, she kind of likes that Santana is flirting—or, at least, she hopes she's flirting. "Mhmm." Brittany sucks her bottom lip into her mouth.

"So your roommate is a Music major? I wonder if I've seen her."

Brittany shakes her head. "No, not exactly. She's Musical Theater and apparently destined for Broadway. She does have a good voice...she's just kind of annoying."

Santana laughs. "Yeah, I know most of those kids too. I've done some rehearsal piano work for them. They're less stuck-up than the people in the music school. So you dance? What kind?"

"Any. All styles. I love everything. Hip hop might be my favorite, followed really closely by jazz and contemporary. I also love swing dancing but mostly just for fun. Ballet is awesome too. Everything." Brittany knows she can ramble when she talks about dance, but she's never loved anything like she loves dance. She's used to people's eyes glazing over into the "I'm listening but not listening" look. Amazingly, though, Santana doesn't do that. She looks at Brittany enthusiastically, almost encouraging her to keep talking, but Brittany forces herself not to. It's a slippery slope.

"I've always wanted to swing dance, actually! Dance is amazing. Dance and music together, even more amazing."

Brittany is glad Santana thinks that, because she agrees. "What do you do in the Music department?" she asks, because she's genuinely interested. She's not very big on small talk, and she suspects that people think she's weird for it. Pointless social graces have never been something she's good at, much to the dismay of her mother.

"I play piano and sing. Mostly piano though. I've been playing since I was three. These clowns here don't have much to teach me, which is fine. It means I can get out of here easily. They don't exactly love my singing, so I probably couldn't get a degree in that, although it is my minor. I just...I really love to sing. Like really, really love it." Santana seems to feel like she's said too much and stops talking. Brittany wishes she hadn't. She can only imagine how beautiful her singing voice must be if her talking voice is this mesmerizing.


Once they get their drinks at the coffee shop, Santana asks Brittany to take hers to a table while she goes to the bathroom. Brittany takes Santana's drink (black coffee) and is looking around when Mercedes waves her over to a table with Quinn and Sam. She smiles and heads in that direction after glancing in the direction of the bathroom. That Anna girl walks out of the bathroom just as Santana is about to walk in. Santana looks kind of angry, and Anna, as usual, has a bitchy look on her face. Assuming Anna must have said something, Brittany idly wonders what is going on between the two of them as she sits down cautiously at the table.

"Hey Brittany. Where'd Santana go?" Quinn asks her, smiling gently.

It makes her oddly happy that someone is asking her something about Santana. "She went to the bathroom. Thanks for letting me sit with you guys."

Mercedes beams at her, looking a little like she wants to say something but doesn't know if she should. Brittany knows that feeling. "So…how's your first couple of days going? Making friends? You and Santana seem to be talking a lot..." Mercedes starts.

"Mercedes, mind your own business," Quinn interrupts her, then smiles at Brittany.

"It's just that Santana doesn't talk to people so easily...at least not nicely. But she straight up gravitated to blondie here, and I was just curious." Well, now so is Brittany.

"Yeah, well, you better shut your mouth lest she 'go all Lima Heights' on you," Quinn responds.

"Did you seriously just say 'lest she go all Lima Heights'?" Mercedes cracks up, which makes Brittany start laughing as well. "Girl, get your head out of those damn books for a minute please." Quinn shakes her head but laughs nonetheless.

At that point, Santana returns from the bathroom. Ignoring the seat next to Quinn, she immediately sits next to Brittany. Brittany smiles; so does Quinn.

For the rest of the time, they discuss small things. They all give Brittany unsolicited (but still appreciated) advice about the town and the dorms. She finds out that they all live in an apartment complex right off campus. Mercedes lives with Kurt, and Santana with Quinn. "Why don't you guys live in the dorms?"

"Girl, would you live there longer than you have to?" Mercedes replies.


After they finish their coffee and both Quinn and Mercedes decide they need to do some homework, everyone gets up to leave.

"Which dorm do you live in? Do you want us to walk you back?" Santana asks her.

Brittany tells them that she lives in Webster and that she'll be fine to walk by herself.

"No, it's okay. That's pretty much on the way. We can just walk with you, so you know…no one kidnaps you or whatever."

Quinn rolls her eyes, but they all agree. As they're walking back, the conversation turns to a party that one of the LGBTA members is throwing next Friday, and Santana insists Brittany go with them. Remembering parties that Tommy forced her to go to in high school, she's not sure how she feels about it. She's about to tell them she'll skip the party when she looks at Santana, whose expression is so hopeful that she says she'll think about it. "It depends on how much homework I have and how hard classes are getting by then...but maybe."

Santana smiles at her. All too soon, they're at her dorm. "Maybe I could give you my phone number, in case you need anything or want to go to the party or have coffee or whatever?"

Brittany gets her phone out and smiles at Santana, who promptly types in her number. After getting her keys out, Brittany thanks them for walking her home and goes into the building. She thinks it's a good sign that nobody is talking about the crazy girl who won't stop singing in one of the rooms.

Just outside, unknown to Brittany, Santana is getting mercilessly teased by her friends for her epically unsuave behavior. When Brittany gets up to her room, she thinks that even though she probably shouldn't reciprocate Santana's flirting, texting Santana so she has her number too can't hurt.

To Santana: It's Brittany. Here's my number in case you need anything or want coffee or whatever. :P

Noting that the room is silent and trying hard not to wake Rachel since she's already gotten that lecture on routine and regiment and good nights' rests, she enters quietly. She throws her phone on her bed and changes into pajamas. Just as she gets into bed, she notices her phone light up.

From Santana: Thanks Britt. Do you want to hang out this weekend? I could show you some stuff we told you about today at the coffee shop.

She smiles and tells herself to contain her excitement, but at night, in the dark, she's having a hard time remembering why.

To Santana: I think that would be awesome. I'll let you know after class tomorrow if that's okay?

From Santana: Sounds good. I'm glad you came to the meeting. Good night.

Brittany is glad she doesn't claim it's for "member support" reasons this time...and is also glad she went to the meeting.

To Santana: Me too. See you soon? Good night.

She plugs her phone into her charger and sets her alarm, even though she's pretty certain that, just like the rest of the days this week, Rachel's voice exercises will wake her before her alarm. Curling up in her blankets, she drifts to sleep, thinking about the day and dance and really mostly Santana.


At 5 AM, Brittany is woken up by Rachel going through her morning routine and has never been more angry to be right. But since she's up, she might as well get up for real. She decides she'll shower after dance class and that she should probably do the last bit of homework she didn't get to yesterday.

It's a struggle. It is always a struggle, it has always been a struggle, and it will always be a struggle. Studying is a terrible combination of having a hard time understanding the way things are phrased and not being able to stay focused long enough to make any real progress. She'll read a sentence and a half, then suddenly remember she needs to put her water in the fridge or it won't be cold enough when she gets back from dance. Two more sentences, and suddenly it's really important that she know whether or not her favorite jeans are clean so she can wear them. Another sentence, and she is trying to remember if she's talked to anyone in her family since she's moved into school. It's not that she doesn't want to focus; she desperately does, to a point of near tears. She remembers when she was little, her teachers told her parents that they thought Brittany might have a learning disability, but her parents said that was impossible and that she just needed to try harder. After 12 years of trying as hard as she can, she thinks that maybe her teachers were right.

Dance isn't a struggle, and that's one of the things she loves about it. However, her parents caught on pretty quickly and would use it as leverage. If she didn't "try hard enough" and do well, she wouldn't get to go to dance class. She'd lie in bed at night and cry, because her favorite thing had been taken away from her, and not because she didn't try; she just wasn't good enough. That had to be the answer, because she was trying as hard as she could. This form of punishment had gone on until the day she graduated high school.

Her parents took other things away too, such as the ability to go out on weekends. Luckily, she didn't mind that, because sometimes, they'd take that away and let her go to dance instead. However, the first time Tommy called and she wasn't allowed out because of grades, he was terrible about it. "God Britt, why are you so fucking retarded?" he'd said angrily. She didn't have an answer; she didn't know why.

Now that she's in college, the consequences feel bigger but oddly similar. The only reason she's allowed to go to school for dance (her parents deem it impractical) is because she pays for it almost completely by herself with her scholarship. Her parents pay for housing, which she appreciates, but in order to keep dancing, she needs to keep her scholarship, which means she has to get good grades.

She finishes what she's able to of her homework and gets dressed for class—jeans and a t-shirt for now, dance clothes in her bag. She leaves her dorm and gets to the classroom a few minutes early. She looks over the first few pages of the chapter, hoping that knowing what's coming might make it easier for her to follow along in class.

Unfortunately, she's wrong. It doesn't help. As soon as she leaves the classroom, she calls and schedules a tutoring session for that afternoon, right after dance class. So much for going to the gym today.

Dance class goes really well. There's still nothing very difficult, but not having to push herself feels good right now, because her brain feels full. She grabs her phone to check the time, not expecting to see anything else, but she has a text. It's from Santana! She beams as she opens the message.

From Santana: Hey Britt, how are classes so far today?

She frowns a bit. That's a loaded question, and she's not sure she wants Santana to know how hard she's struggling already.

To Santana: Just got out of dance class, which was great. Going to shower and then a meeting and then to the library. How's your day going?

That's not lying. Tutoring is technically a meeting—a meeting for stupid people.

From Santana: Boring as shit. History classes are pretty easy, and I'm taking Spanish classes, which are a joke because I've been speaking Spanish my whole life. What are you up to now?

Brittany wishes that classes were a breeze for her, that homework didn't make her head feel like exploding, and that the fear of not doing well enough didn't make her stomach sick. As she makes her way back to the dorms, her phone pings again.

From Santana: Your Friday night sounds terrible. I'm sorry.

To Santana: It's okay, it's not like I had any other plans. Getting in the shower and stuff now. I'll text you after my meeting, it's okay if you're too busy to talk.

She hopes Santana won't be. She likes talking to her, even if it is just texting, and she reckons that she'll probably need a little bit of cheering up after tutoring.

From Santana: I won't be. Talk to you soon. Good luck with your meeting. :)

Brittany smiles. She wishes she could spend her Friday night with Santana. Just being around Santana makes her feel warm in a good way, and it's certainly better than doing homework. However, she has to get good grades, so it might be better that she isn't brave enough to ask Santana to hang out.

After her shower, she puts on a summer dress and sandals, lamenting that soon, it won't be warm enough to wear them. She walks to the library where her tutoring appointment will take place. When she gets to the designated room, she's greeted by a very stern boy who looks a few years older than her. They talk about the class he's tutoring her in and asks what she needs help with. She tells him everything, and he sighs, already seeming frustrated. This isn't a great start.

By the end of the meeting, she thinks there are a few things she might understand better, but mostly she's really frustrated with herself and kind of frustrated with the tutor. She doesn't think tutors are supposed to treat you like you're stupid. They're supposed to help you, and she was trying really hard, but he sighed a lot and left the second their time was up. She finds herself a table, lays all her stuff out, and texts Santana.

To Santana: How's it going? Any fun plans yet?

Putting her phone aside, she starts working. She gets so frustrated several times that she goes to the bathroom, even though she doesn't need to, just for an excuse to walk away. An hour and a half later, she feels her phone vibrate.

From Santana: I'm sorry! I went to get dinner with Cedes and forgot my phone. Done with homework?

To Santana: It's okay. If you're busy, I can talk to you later. And no, I think I might be here forever.

She frowns back down at her paper and pushes herself to read a few more sentences. Even after her phone goes off, she wills herself to read three more before answering.

From Santana: I'm not busy at all! And I'm sorry. At least the library isn't the worst place ever?

To Santana: You're right. I just wish the water fountain worked. I'm super thirsty but I've got at least a few more hours here.

From Santana: That sucks. I'm sorry Britt. :(

Brittany likes that Santana calls her Britt. Smiling, she sets her phone down, determined to finish this chapter and the corresponding questions before she leaves. She's the only person left in the library. It is Friday, after all; most people have better places to be.

About half an hour later, she's so frustrated with herself that she puts her forehead to the desk and tries to count to 10 to refocus herself or something, when she hears someone clear their throat. When she looks up, to her surprise and excitement, she sees a bashful Santana standing there.