Title: Above The Moon
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 7.1k
Summary: She really is here. Brittany is here, and you think over the past 10 years without her, trying to figure out how destiny didn't bring you back together sooner, but you guess it just wasn't the right time.
Notes: So I just read the reviews, and I gotta thank most of you who have kindly pointed out errors and been positive about the fic etc. However to the other verbally challenged readers, there is a way to communicate, and talking to me like crap isn't going to make me want to post or even continue writing. I'm quite happy to keep my stories to myself, so let's not ruin it for everyone and play nice, okay?
Also one more reminder... I am British, which naturally means mistakes are going to slip in. Doesn't mean I'm lazy, just means that's how I write. I'm always game to change it if it's pointed out nicely, same as any other spelling/grammatical errors, so take advantage of that.
/
The bed shifting wakes you up in the morning.
You groan, last night flashing across your mind the second you stretch your arms above your head, and you can't help but smile as you slowly peel open your eyes, wincing at the sunlight beaming in through the window. All your bones pop and crack back into place, your muscles sore but in the best way possible, but when your hand falls down to the bed, feeling an empty mattress, you begin panicking.
Brittany's not next to you.
You sit up in an instant, only to feel cool relief flood through your body as you hear a light giggle that's all too familiar flow into your ears and snap your head around, finding the blonde sat on the other side of the bed, already dressed, and putting a pair of socks on. The hot panic disappears the second you meet her eye, and the softest of smiles pull across your face when she grins at you widely, finishing what she's doing and leaning back on her hands and okay, you're good.
She didn't leave you in bed like a one night stand and you won't lie, that's kind of where your mind went when you didn't feel her there.
"Hey," she whispers, and you flop back, the fatigue hitting you as you barely got any sleep last night.
Not that you're complaining.
"Hey," you bite down on your bottom lip and try to hide the grin on your face but fuck it, you don't need to.
Brittany giggles at you, rolling her eyes and you take the opportunity to scoot towards her, reaching out and poking the hand she's got braced behind her, propping her up. You don't know why you do it. You just wanted to touch her, but it was the right thing to do apparently because she flips her hand up and threads her fingers through yours, setting your hands down on the mattress as her eyes meet yours and hers cloud over as she probably thinks about last night.
"I didn't wanna wake you, but it seems like you're in a good mood," she comments, which is probably surprising as this is the first time you've woken up to each other in years and the last she knew, you were grumpy as hell when you woke up. But how can you be grumpy when she's not only still here, but you had awesome sex last night? Awesome being a total understatement, by the way. "Makes a change."
You're the one to roll your eyes this time and laugh lightly. "Can you blame me?" You chortle and Brittany blushes, chin ducking to her chest, and you can't ignore the way your chest blossoms watching her, but then your vision darts down to her fully dressed body and another question comes to mind. Mostly because you were totally thinking you could get in some morning cuddle time seeing as it's only 7am but she apparently has other plans. "Where are you going?"
"Jaime wants me to take her to cheerleading practise," she explains and your head cocks to the side, brows furrowing.
"She's a cheerleader?"
Brittany laughs again and strokes her thumb over the back of your hand. "It runs in the family, I guess," she pauses and sucks her lips into her mouth and when you look into her eyes, you see hesitancy. There shouldn't be as you two had a great night and you don't really want to ruin it by overthinking and overtalking, but you know she's feeling different and despite knowing it wasn't just sex – even though your conversation before should make you think that – you don't want to know exactly what it was. You're good with a lack of clarity here. "How are you feeling?"
Considering she just said you were in a good mood; you know she doesn't mean how are you feeling mood wise. She's asking how you feel about last night, about having sex for hours and hours and doing it in the way you used to when you were teenagers, but the fact she's asking alone leads you to believe that she's more worried about your reaction as she's cool with it. Had she not been, she probably would've left without saying goodbye, and the second you think that, the smile drops from your face as she didn't exactly wake you up.
You woke up all by yourself, not by her, and she was getting dressed, ready to leave.
Fuck. You may have jumped the gun here.
So, you tread carefully. "I'm good," you say, like you don't know she isn't asking about your mood. "What about you?"
Brittany swallows, which makes heat spike beneath your skin as you start thinking of how you've ruined your friendship by sleeping together last night, but then the corners of her lips twitch up as she sucks them into her mouth to stop the smile from growing and you release a breath. "I'm good," she repeats your words, blue eyes flicking up to meet yours and she holds them, her free hand moving in circles on the sheet by your hip. "Do you wanna talk about last night?"
There it is.
"What about it?"
Her eyebrow quivers at the question, and you know instantly you need to say something else because you didn't mean to come across ignorant. You're just trying to be casual about it so it doesn't highlight the creeping suspicion lingering in your stomach that tells you that you probably shouldn't have blurred the lines last night, but you weren't the only one in it. She initiated the whole thing, even told you she'd never been more fucking sure of anything else, and you couldn't resist her, especially as you thought it was the green light.
Now you're starting to think different.
"I wanted to and I don't regret it," Brittany quickly blurts out and relief floods through your chest. You're glad she took the lead on that one as you kind of had a frog in your throat then, but also glad as she wasn't taking what you said badly.
"Neither do I," you whisper, unable to stop yourself because you definitely wouldn't take it back. Not because you feel satisfied for the first time in weeks, but because it was Brittany doing it and even though that could bring a plethora of shit, you know it won't. You two were so casual about it before the pregnancy, and you're hoping that it's going to continue on that way as you've got so much more to face together.
"But we shouldn't get comfortable like that again," she follows, and you ignore the way it drops heavily in your stomach, mostly because she's right. You shouldn't be sleeping together as it's not like sleeping with just anyone. It's sleeping with an ex who is also going to be your baby mama, and that's bound to bring feelings back in one way or another and that's not what either of you want. "I think it'd be easy to slip into how we used to be without realising," she explains but all you can do is nod. "And that's not what either of us want, right?"
Not expecting her to ask you, you pause, and the longer you pause the deeper the frown on her face gets but you quickly shake yourself out of it and nod again, wetting your lips, realising how your silence could be taken.
"Yeah, obviously," you echo like you have many times before. "We don't want that to happen as it could complicate things and that's not fair on the baby," your eyes drop to her stomach, and she places a hand over the top, like she's agreeing, patting softly as her eyes meet yours again. "We just have really great sex," you decide to throw on with a teasing smirk at your lips and she laughs through her nose, shaking her head and looking away as her eyes roll.
"You're an idiot," she manages to get out and your face breaks into a grin as she pushes at your shoulder. "But we do," she confirms and her eyes flash back to you, but they're darkening in a way that makes your mouth go dry and you grip on to the bedsheets tighter, knowing if you don't do that you'll grab her again and like you said, it could complicate things. "I'll be back in half an hour and maybe we can get breakfast together?"
You're bobbing your head without even thinking and Brittany scrunches her face up at you, poking the tip of your nose before climbing to her feet and staring down at you. You stare back, not knowing why she's pausing as you're sure Jaime still wants to go to cheerleading practise, but then recognition kicks in and you narrow your eyes when you realise she usually would kiss you on the cheek to say goodbye, but you're still naked in bed. When blue eyes scan over your lack of clothing, Brittany just takes a step back and rolls her eyes playfully which strokes your ego massively as it confirms your suspicions.
She can't even kiss you on the cheek or she'd get tempted.
God, that so doesn't help you, though. Every time she looks at you like that, her eyes dragging slowly up and down your body, her perfect tongue poking out to wet her perfect lips and how the breath she takes is unsteady after her trail is done, just makes you want to rip her clothes off and that so isn't what you should be doing. Not just because her little sister is waiting for her downstairs probably and is most likely late already, but because you two have just agreed for like the tenth time that this thing between you isn't about feelings, just about sex.
You don't know how many times you're going to need to remind yourself of that.
"Sounds great," you chirp, sucking your lips into your mouth and Brittany eyes you for a long minute, the smallest of smirks on her face like she knew what you were thinking before she winks and twirls out the room.
/
The rest of the day flies by, and before you know it, you're back on the plane, holding Brittany's hand this time – even though you're really not scared of flying anymore – and everything feels lighter than before.
This time two days ago, you were uncertain what was going on between you as Brittany thought you'd slept with that girl at the bar, when you hadn't, and was trying to be normal with you as you were with her but it kind of failed and everything felt a little off.
But it doesn't now, and sure, you're probably not going to have sex again, but it was so worth being in that little bubble for this weekend as you're pretty damn sure next weekend isn't going to go as smoothly when you tell your parents, and the likelihood of it happening again then is small as you've firstly, agreed that it'll complicate things and secondly, you may not even be alive by then.
Your parents are old fashioned and have a certain attitude towards having a baby out of wedlock, and that's all you can think about on the flight back. The Pierce's have always been more laid back and you spent the rest of the weekend with Jaime and Whitney, looking through baby stores online and coming up with ideas for the baby's name. It was comfortable, and comforting, and James didn't even pull you over for a talk about you being serious about the baby and his daughter – like everyone else has in your life so far – and that made it easier.
It won't go like that next weekend though. You can just feel it in your bones, and it must show because Brittany tries talking about everything else to drag you out of your own head, but you don't seem to be as enthusiastic as you were even on the flight there. Then, you were nervous and hell and considerably chattier and so after accidentally not hearing like, the third question she asks you, she turns in her seat, head cocked to the side and eyes narrowed.
"What's wrong?"
You feel like this isn't something you can talk your way out of, but it still feels weird being vulnerable around people and that's how you feel when you talk about your parents. Ten years of building up defences around the sensitive things in your life and having to explain why your mom and you are closer than you and your dad. Your other friends never really seem to press too much though, mostly because you just spit some venom their way when they ask the wrong thing, but you can't do that with Brittany and she of all people knows what they're like.
So you don't even try and sidestep out of the topic and look her in the eye, sucking in your bottom lip. "I'm nervous about next weekend," you admit, and Brittany doesn't flinch, or gasp, and it's kind of annoying because you think she already knew that. She just didn't to call you out on it, which you get, but if anyone could do it, it'd be her. "My parents aren't going to be anywhere near as cool as yours were."
The corner of the blondes lip pinches up and she reaches over to take your hand, pulling it to rest on the arm of the plane seat. "It's the 26th next weekend, right?"
You frown, but nod. "Yeah…"
"Of September?"
Your eyes flit from left to right. You did just say how you felt out loud, right? "Yeah," you shift. "Why?"
"Isn't that their anniversary?" She fires back and something in your chest flutters, but something in your head begins panicking.
Shit. You'd forgotten that they got married 25 years ago next Saturday, and you were so caught up in the whole Brittany and baby thing that you hadn't remembered that, and your plans were to tell them then about their impending grandchild. That's not really something you want to do anymore – if it goes badly like you're expecting, you could ruin a special day for them and that's not on the list of things you want to do – and you go to say that and find a way out of going, but then your thoughts move on, and eyes register the cocked eyebrow being thrown your way.
Why isn't she panicking like you are?
"So that'll be the best time to tell them," she explains with a small shrug but nope. You're not there with her. You're seeing it from the point of view that they're going to tear you a new asshole and ground you or something – you're 26, but they still have an annoying parental hold over you – and you're not understanding why she isn't seeing that. "They're always in the best mood on their anniversary," Brittany adds on and squeezes your hand, pulling your attention and eyes back to her. "Remember their 15 year?"
Your mind reels back to the memory of your parents hiring out the town hall and throwing a large bash. They always go way over the top, but they have the money to do so as your dad is high up in the world of business or something – you two don't exactly have a close bond and rarely ever share information about each other, including careers – and you remember being 15 and sneaking a bottle of vodka from the free bar and drinking it with Brittany in the parking lot.
Naturally, you were caught red-handed, but your dad was in such high spirits that he only grounded you for like, one weekend, which was a major thing as the last time you stepped out of line, he took the keys to the Mustang off you for a whole month.
And somehow thinking about that makes you settle. You let out a long sigh of relief, slumping back into the seat and feeling Brittany squeeze your hand again as she does the same thing. But she rolls her head to look at you, and you take a second to admire how she can make you feel better in only a few words. There isn't anyone else like that in your life, and you think she'll be the only person to ever do it.
You just have that connection with her.
So you smile sweetly, bobbing your head and letting your shoulders relax as the seatbelt sign pings overhead and the pilot is announcing you'll be descending soon.
/
You take a cab back to Brittany's, and as much as you want to go up there with her and spend the rest of the day together, you know that's not healthy.
You only went to Florida for one night, for 24 hours, and it seems to have blurred those clearly defined lines all over again and now because you're out of your bubble, you're starting to think of how stupid it was to sleep together again. Neither of you regret it, which is good, but now you've had sex whilst she's pregnant and you're both very much still available for dating and that's apparently back on the cards. Not that it was ever off, but clearly Brittany had some reservations about it.
The whole conversation prior to doing it again was about how Brittany felt uncomfortable finding someone who might be okay with it and not to hold back on her urges, and she didn't.
But if you're honest, you're more worried now that you've given her some confidence to find someone else. It'd be the right thing to do, as you're somehow going to have to force yourself to do it too and make a point not to tell your friends – mostly Mercedes and Kurt – about the fourth time. That one's going to be a little hard to explain, so you're hoping Brittany will feel the same and as you help her get her luggage, you feel like you need to say it.
"Hey, Britt?"
She spins around, eyes sparkling and wide as they glance at you. "Yeah?"
You clear your throat, your collar getting hotter as you think of the way to communicate this without coming across as a total douchebag, but she's been in the same mindset as you throughout most things, so you just need to go for broke.
"I'm not like, ashamed or anything that we slept together," you blurt out and a crease appears between fair eyebrows as confusion hits the blonde. You didn't start that right. Shit. "I still don't regret it," you follow up quickly, spluttering it out like you didn't already have this conversation and she giggles lightly, stepping towards you and pulling up the handle of her suitcase on the sidewalk. "But like… Are we gonna keep it on the down low? About us?"
A small smile creeps onto Brittany's face, stretching one side of her lip and she cocks her head to the side. "I don't think we have to discuss our sex lives with our friends," she answers but it's not really an answer to you. "I only told Mercedes last time as she asked me outright," she shrugs and your mind reels back to Mercedes storming into your office. At least you know now how she found out. Nosey bitch. "But no-one's asked me anything about us since we told them about little one, so I think we're good," her hand settles on her stomach, and you ignore the electricity that surges through you.
Every single time she does that, you get this buzz of excitement. It's kind of scary, but also relieving.
But then you think over her words, and you suppose, yeah. No-one's asked you anything really. Kurt asked you directly afterwards announcing you two were expecting if it was the right thing to do, and Quinn and Kitty have been bothering you but otherwise no-one's pried so you don't think it'll be an issue. Still though, you don't want people to start voicing their opinions as it always irritates you anyway, and most of them have been doubtful at best, even before the whole pregnancy thing so announcing you've slept together again just seems like a bad idea.
"It can be our little secret," Brittany follows up and your head snaps up, noticing the half-smile, half-smirk on her face. "And like we said, we just have great sex and went with our urges," she quirks a brow and you gulp for a whole other reason this time. You have other urges too, but you should probably hold back on them. Kissing her wouldn't be a good move and neither would going up to her apartment and seeing how many more urges you could go with.
Although right now, you're finding more pros than cons on this one. Or rather one pro that outweighs all the cons; she just feels really good all around you, invading every sense.
It's euphoric.
"Okay," you breathe and inhale swiftly after, albeit a bit shakily.
She just grins in reaction and leans towards you, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek then pulling back, but only far enough that that she can stare into your eyes and probably hear how fast your heart is beating. "Call me tonight?" She whispers, reaching for her luggage handle again and biting her bottom lip.
You just smile and bob your head, watching her as she walks away and into her apartment complex.
/
You go back to work the following Monday.
You wake up late, after being on the phone to Brittany for a solid two hours, but it's so worth it. She kept reminding you of how positively her parents reacted, and should your parents do the opposite, you'll still have support from her family regardless. It did make you feel slightly better, but it also just kept reminding you that it was a matter of days until you could find out where that'd be the case and when you checked your alarm clock, you'd seen it was gone midnight and you always got up at 5 and unfortunately, had to get off the phone.
So that's why you're here, at 630 in the damn morning, in a fucking queue in the local Starbucks. You didn't want to wait until you got to work, ripped your assistant a new one after them not telepathically assuming you'd need a coffee, and then waited an additional half hour until they got their ass out there and did that. But you always hate doing this shit – it's one of the perks of your job, having your coffee brought to you – but in spite of the lack of sleep, you're kind of in a good mood so you guess you can stomach it this one time.
Well, that's what you think until you're the third in the line and someone clears their throat way too loudly for it to just be convenient, and you peer over your shoulder, allowing them to see how unamused half of your face is before you turn back again. That usually settles the persons impatience – you're kind of intimidating – but it seems this person is either the dumbest asshole in the world or is just trying to get under your skin and when they do it for the third time, you spin around completely, hands cocked on your hips and a sharp glare on your face.
"Can I help you?" You spit, finding a very pretty blonde staring back at you, with bright green eyes that are kind of amazing, but you're way too annoyed at her insistent coughing to realise that right now.
The blonde doesn't seem startled by your tone though, and instead smirks back at you like she isn't even sorry. "I was right," is all she says, her voice sweet but warm and you narrow your eyes.
"You were right?"
She giggles, and behind you, you hear the next person being called up, so you take a step back, but green eyes flit down to the movement and follow, dragging way too slowly up your body before returning to make eye contact again. You're not an idiot. You've slept with over 100 women and there's no way in hell this one isn't checking you out… But you're just startled. You're standing in a line, and you don't really get why she annoyed you into turning around by coughing. Seems like a lame tactic, but you'll roll with it until you get an explanation.
"I made a bet with myself that you were hotter from the front than the back," the girl says so casually that you take a second to repeat it in your head. "And I was right."
You blink, your jaw going slack. Did she actually just say that? "You pissed me off to get me to turn around and see if I was hot?" You slowly ask, not sure if you're impressed or amused at this attempt.
The blonde just shrugs. "How else was I gonna get you to talk to me?"
Again, you blink. She really is hitting on you, and you take a second to stare at her, not breaking the gaze to reconsider your previous thought. You're impressed, for sure as you're usually the one with the pickup attempts, and now you're kind of getting your ego stroked so you're feeling confident too and shit… You're not blind. She is attractive. She's blonde, which is an immediate tick in your books; she has bright green eyes – you prefer blue, but whatever – and she's tall and slim.
She's exactly your type, and you chew on the inside of your cheek, eyes squinting as you think of what to say – like you said, you're startled as you're usually the one in her shoes – and to be honest, you're also a little shocked at her complete lack of shame. Those green eyes are now trailing over you again, her head cocking to the side and eyebrow arching in a way that you know is challenging, but also seductive and when they meet your dark ones, you can't help but smirk back, noticing the small one on her face now.
"And why would you want to talk to me?"
The girl's smirk turns into a large grin, and she shrugs, eyes finally leaving you but only towards the clerk that you now realise is calling for the next person, and that's apparently you. "Like I said, you're hot," she whispers and points over your shoulder. "You're up."
You hold her eye for a long second and turn, muttering your order to the barista quickly but then the blonde is stepping up beside you and following on with hers as well as giving her name Mona which you mentally note. Your mouth drops open, eyes slide to the right – there's no way in hell you're buying a coffee for a stranger who just annoyed you into talking to her – but then she throws you a wink and hands over a few dollar bills to the guy behind the counter, paying for your drink and again, you're shocked.
You don't think you've ever met someone so forward.
"Call it an apology for pissing you off," the blonde shrugs and grins at you.
And you weren't raised under a rock, so you suck you lips into your mouth and wander to the other end of the counter, resting your elbow on it to face the stranger. "You didn't have to buy me a coffee for that, but thank you," you say and try a small smile at her.
As grateful as you are, you're not entirely sure if you're allowed to welcome light flirtation like this – especially after the weekend you've just had with Brittany – and you can already feel the beginnings of guilt strumming through your chest. It's irrational, and entirely unnecessary as you're single, you cannot repeat that any more than you already have with Brittany, but you still don't like this whole thing as you do have a baby on the way with another women.
(Or at least that's what you're blaming it on.)
But it still feels a lot like it did when you went out for a drink with Kurt and hooked up with that stranger, like you're doing something you're not supposed to. It still feels like you want to look over your shoulder to see if anyone is watching, or if someone could interrupt, but you have to get over this. The rest of your life is going to be like this, now that you're having a kid with Brittany, and you have no loyalty to her relationship wise. You've discussed this at lengths and so you should flirt back with this blonde – Mona, you remember her saying – because she is attractive and like you said, everything you would usually look for in a hook up.
She's confident, she's cute, she's still holding eye contact and waiting for you to speak, and the longer you eye her, the more you think she looks like Margot Robbie and Harley Quinn is your favourite fictional character for a reason.
You've done this a thousand times before, so you summon the strength to push away all hesitations and cock your head, slipping into the seductive mode that's always so successful and smirk at Mona, eyebrow raised.
You're gonna fake it until you actually feel cocky and enjoy being hit on. It won't be the first and won't be the last and this girl is cute enough.
"I'm Santana," you offer and Mona grins widely, bobbing her head and obviously seeing you give her the green light. You were being a little off, to say the least. "You wanna drink that coffee with me?"
Mona grins again and nods her head, reaching over to grab both your beverages as the guy behind the counter slides them over and you walk over to the corner table together and sit down, forgetting that you're late to work.
/
Turns out, Mona is a dancer.
You kind of hate that, mostly because she's now eerily close in comparison to another blonde in your life, bar the colour of her eyes, and you can't help but doing that comparison whilst you're sitting having coffee together.
She's 25, lives with a few friends in Pasadena and is trying to make it big in LA. It's all very typical, and you tell her that you're a publicist for someone famous, but the NDA prevents you from saying who – which is a lie; she could Google you and find out pretty quickly – but she doesn't seem to see through your lie and entertains you instead. She's cute, gets cuter then longer you talk to her, but she's a little dim and you think if you hadn't knocked Brittany up, you'd be asking for her number and actually using that one, as she's giving you that vibe.
But every time your mind wanders there, a certain name repeats over and over in your head, and you find yourself holding back on how forward you usually are. There's an itch, every fucking time you think of how easy it would be to whip out the usual charm, but you just don't like the feeling it brings when you go to do it.
Still, you push past and make her laugh, and by the time you've realised you're way later to work than intended – it's like 830 now – you climb to your feet, ready to tell her you need to go. But before you can even get that out, Mona's grabbing the back of your hand, taking a pen out of her purse and scribbling on it as she obviously picked up on the vibe that you need to head to work.
Her skin is soft, and she smells really good – she's close enough to you now to notice – and her eyes flit to you quickly before she pops her pen away and straightens up, eying you but you're way too focused figuring out what she was doing.
"Seeing as you didn't ask," Mona says with a small grin, eyes twinkling. "That's my number. You should use it," she states, more of a command than anything and you're impressed, so you bob your head and then it's time to part ways.
She kisses you on the cheek, you promise to call her later, and you head out of Starbucks and down the sidewalk to your office building, waving the newest blonde in your life goodbye.
You feel good, and you can't deny there's still a pinch of guilt in your chest – even though you went way further than a coffee literally last week and Brittany knows about it – but it feels different. You can't quite put a finger on why, even less so when you walk into your office and three of your assistants instantly bombard you which pulls your mind away from figuring that out, but you know that's the right attitude to take.
You need to not think about why you feel so weird, as even Kurt warned you of this and it's to be expected as you're in an unusual position. Most people who are having a kid are together, like in a relationship and heading towards marriage, so your feelings are entirely normal as you aren't in either of those categories.
So with that thought in mind, you settle down at your desk and pull out your phone, putting Mona's number into it and rubbing it off the back of your hand.
/
You go back to your apartment after work but find it empty and disappointing.
Not that you thought Brittany would be here, and you don't want her to be as that's something else you need to stop being so comfortable with, but for the past couple of weeks she has been here when you've got back and after you two have been texting all day, you thought she might want dinner or something with you.
But it doesn't matter, and so you order a take-out and get changed, slumping down on the sofa with a large glass of wine. You stare at the screen of your phone, flitting between Brittany's number and Mona's and indecision runs strong. You don't know if you should text or call either of them, and to be honest, you're not sure which one if you did.
One side of you (the dominating side currently) is itching for you to call Brittany, to invite her over and share your orange chicken... But the other side of you (the smart one) is tugging at you to call Mona, and perhaps arrange a date that isn't coffee and see where that goes.
You're not looking to date, but she's hot and cool and if you're completely honest, that'd be a perfect deterrent into not sleeping with Brittany again. Not that you're expecting to again, but the last time you definitely weren't expecting, and it just seems to keep happening. It isn't a massive issue, but it will be when the baby is born or if shit goes south and you don't want it to get messy. You've already had a break-up with her and that literally took everything inside of you to get over and that wouldn't be fair if there was a person in the world with half your DNA and half Brittany's.
You really don't want to raise a kid with two parents who can't be around each other. That just fucks them up in the long run.
With that thought in mind, you hit one of the names and pull the phone to your ear, flinching when an unfamiliar voice picks up on the other end. "Hello?"
"Mona," you start, clearing your throat and sitting up, free hand clutching the edge of the sofa. "It's Santana... From earlier." There's a pause and you panic. Did you call the right number? "You bought me a coffee?"
"I remember," she laughs down the line and you let out a long sigh of relief, reaching for your glass of wine before settling into the sofa cushions. "Didn't know if you'd actually call, so this is a nice surprise."
You laugh too and the conversation flows from there on, but after half an hour and an arranged date, you hang up and set your phone on the coffee table, staring at it whilst you try to process what just happened.
But when Brittany calls five minutes later, you don't tell her about Mona.
(You don't know why.)
/
You keep talking to Brittany during the days and most of the evenings but make up an excuse not to when you decide to go on a date with Mona the day before you fly out to your hometown.
She doesn't question it, as she has no right to even if you were honest, but you still feel like you're hiding something as you roll up to a bar a few blocks away from your apartment. It still makes you feel like you're doing something you shouldn't, but those thoughts are tucked away when you head inside and find the tall, attractive blonde, wearing a tight dress, waiting for you with a drink already.
It's not the one you'd usually go for, but it's pretty close, and you greet each other with a kiss on the cheek, settling down on to a few of the stools as you take her in.
"Hey," you say and meet her eyes as you have manners and starting the date with ogling probably isn't the right way to do it. Even if she doesn't seem thrown off by it at all; maybe even excited if the glint in her eye is anything to go by. "You look great," you get out and pick up your drink, taking a sip. "Thanks for this," you gesture to the glass. "How long have you been here?"
Mona grins and bats her lashes at you, finger circling the rim of her glass. "Not too bad yourself," she fires back. "And not long. I only live a couple minutes away from here."
You're sure it's meant as innocent information, but the way it hits you make it feels like it isn't, and when you glance back up to see her picking up her drink, twirling her straw and smirking at you as she takes a sip, you realise you feel that way for a reason. She hasn't stopped checking you out since you walked in, and whereas usually, you'd be throwing yourself at her as she's making it pretty clear that her telling you that was a half invitation, you can't flirt back yet.
However, that means when you reply, it comes out spluttered and your face gets all red. "Oh, really."
"Calm down," Mona teases and drops her glass back to the bar, reaching out with her spare hand to grab your forearm. "That wasn't an invitation," she assures, and you let out a sigh of relief, but hold back the visible side of it. "Yet," she adds on with a wink.
You chuckle, more nervously than anything and hide the way blood rushes to your cheeks. You're used to this, to the flirtation and usually it's you on the giving end, but you're cool to be receiving it as that makes Mona stand out from the rest of the girls you hook up with. She's cute, she's hot, she can clearly challenge you in the confidence zone and so you put your mind on those things as you begin asking her about her life.
(The feeling of doing something wrong doesn't go away, though.)
/
Constructive criticism is welcome. Should any mistakes be pointed out, I'll do my best to correct for a better reading experience.