Chapter 1: First glance

Introduction

You know those movies, beginning with a voice-over before the actual start? A voice that basically tries to convince you to keep watching or reading?

They either share a glimpse of the future with you, or a glimpse into their mind and oh how wise they became by something?

Or there is this cheesy flash forward to an old cute couple who say 'this is our story and where it all began…"

Basically there is like this one-liner that makes you curious to continue whatever you stumbled against, even if you discover after only five minutes it's complete rubbish.

Well, I'm not going to do anything like that.

It's your own damn decision if you read this or not.

I don't like manipulation. If you decide to read this, then it's your own doing. I'm not forcing you to do anything. It's completely your choice to waste your time on this or not.

I've got enough trouble making my own decisions. I don't want to take any interest in somebody else's too…

Except maybe that's a lie. Maybe I have an exception on that norm I value so highly. Maybe that exception comes with the name Brittany. If she talks, I'll listen. If she stumbles, I'll be sure to be there to catch her. If she's hesitant to make a choice between this or that, then I'll help in any way I can. I'll always help her. And that goes a lot further then decision-making.…. I value everything she does. I listen to her and try to be there for her in every possible way I discovered I can.

How did that opinion-change happen to a selfish bitch like me? I don't know, that's why I'm writing this. I need to get to know myself better in order to understand my life… In order to understand why I'm standing here today the way I am. Call it a memoir or call it a lame story. I don't care. I'm just trying to see my life in a new perspective. Someone advised me this could be a fun way to do that…

Anyway, that's not my point right now. I'm saying to get the hell away from my story if you don't want to read it. If you do … well buckle up. I'm Santana Lopez and I'm trying to write some thoughts down … some memories … and no, this is not a diary, I don't do that!

So here's where I'll start: the day I met Brittany S. Pierce…

Chapter 1: first glance

"Santana over here!"

Flash

"Miss Lopez, is it true there's a new girl in your life since yesterday? Are you planning on dating her? Is she just another new fling in your life?"

"Over here, Santana you look stunning!"

Click. Flash. Click.

"Santana Lopez, when is your new album coming out?!"

"Is it true you're dating multiple woman at the same time?"

"Look over here!"

Flash. Flash. Flash.

"Oh my god, I'm such a huge fan. Can I have your autograph?!"

"Santana, who was the girl at your side last night?"

…

For the love of … UGH! I'm extremely close to giving them a piece of my mind. It's morning… for one. Can't a girl go to work in silence? How did they even know I was going to come here today? Quinn booked this studio under an alias for god's sake! Why are we even bothering anymore? How are they able to follow every move I'm doing?!

I hate paparazzi. I hate them with every fibre of my being. I can't function properly if they are around! … This is my life though. I know I'm good at my job. I know it comes with fame. But I didn't know the prize to that is a total lack of privacy. And how did they discover to get under my skin so fast? How do they know how to get Snixx out that easy?

Yeah yeah, learn the skills to overlook them, I know. And sure, over time, I got better. I've become a master in ignoring the paparazzi. Using my sun glasses to hide my hangovers. Keeping my hands in my pockets, restraining the urge to punch them in the face for asking such personal questions. But these questions … Ugh, I've had it! How did they even know I brought a girl home yesterday evening? How did they know it was a new fling? Who throws the word fling in some other people's face like it is nothing?!

… Before I can give a piece of my mind to the invasive questions, Quinn's arm gently guides me towards the entrance of the gigantic building. "Just ignore them Santana. Don't react on anything. We're almost inside." She mutters.

"Where's security when we need them?" I snap. "They're getting extremely close."

It's as like they heard me. Three security men come rushing out of the high maintenance studio doors, scrambling towards us. Two of them are keeping the people at bay. The other one guides us towards the door.

At least the studio looks impressive from the inside. It should be! We're paying a fortune to record my songs here! Apparently they have top notch material to record everything. Normally, I'm quite used to two other recording studios. Unfortunately, they were booked for the next upcoming weeks, so Quinn looked for another one. Apparently this was the first one that came to mind.

It's named 'Gold star studios'. Lots of famous people record their songs here. I don't really like following the crowd, so that's part of the reason I never came here before. Plus … things like that can get really snobby. I've met quite some people who feel better than the rest of the world. I hate those sort of people. It's not because you're famous, that you're more important. Or that your job is 'better' then others.

You've got another kind of breed too. Those who treat me like I'm royalty or something… Just because I have money, doesn't mean shit. It's such a fake thing to do. Why do people treat other differently, depending on their pay check? Why is that even a thing? Why is the whole world consumed by it?

Okay. I know it's a bit hypocritical of me. If you don't have to think about money problems for even one second, it's easy to complain about this sort of stuff. Who complains about being treated like royalty? Apparently … me. I know. I really understand it's easy complaining out of a golden cage. However, it's still a cage. I can't trust anybody. Besides my closest friends, who I cherish as if they're my own happiness… I don't have a lot of people I can trust.

You know how many girls I've met, who only slept with me because I'm famous? Who only started talking to me, because they know I can pay for a date in a five star restaurant? You know how many people tried to make a friendship with me, before running away with stuff out of my house? Who ran to the paparazzi, to get some gossip into the magazines about me?

I am a product of my own doing, I know that. Yet, I'm also a product of what society made me.

I'm simply a girl. A girl with huge trust issues. A girl who can't make an emotional connection with any human being (except maybe Quinn, who I've known since kindergarten). A girl who can sing. A girl who became famous because of her singing abilities.

I know I'm lucky. I know I'm grateful for this life. I really am. I also know it's not all rainbows and sunshine. Then again … is there one example where everything is rainbows and unicorns? Would that still be called life? Ying can't exist without yang. Or however that saying goes, I don't know. Don't really care that much either. All I know … is happiness cannot be felt without knowing what sadness feels like…

"Santana, Santana! Is it true you've only ordered a pizza for your date with Sophia last week? Yet you have the ability to record your songs in the most high maintenance recording studio of New York?"

"Please, just one minute of your time!"

Click. Flash.

A small crowd managed to open the doors, but security quickly pushed them back, slamming the doors in their face, which feels slightly satisfying

"Miss Lopez, what song are you going to record today? How much does it costs? Do they let you pay? Can you sing here for free?"

… Let's hope this is worth the money.

Half an hour later

"So, let me get this straight. There's a technical problem in this studio, which you've been aware of, two hours before I got here with my manager. However, you've failed mentioning it? Even when she was on the phone with your studio an hour before I arrived!?"

If looks could kill, I would have killed three people today already. Right now it's the manager of this so called 'most technical advanced studio in New York' that's getting my glare.

His general composure looks frightened… like it should. "Yyyes miss Lopez. I'm deeply sorry, we weren't aware we would be in the company of such a famous singer. You gave another name to the studio. We thought we would have solved the problem before you got here."

I give him a scrutinizing look. "Wait, wait, wait. So … you're telling me, if you've been aware that I was the person who came in, you would've communicate to us that there were technical problems?" I wave my hands around in threatening gestures. "What sort of bullshit is that? I know I'm not nice, but at least I don't give privilege to people, no matter what their status is…" I see him fidgeting with the phone in his hands. I'm not having it, I don't feel any pity for him whatsoever. "You have one minute to give me a good reason to stay at this place and not storm out." My voice is threateningly low right now. I know it is, I've practised it a thousand times in front of my mirror… don't tell anybody that.

Before he can respond, Quinn bumps in the conversation. "Ugh, Santana, don't be overdramatic, we wanted to test this studio out, because of the high status and technical possibilities, remember? Besides, we don't have an alternative on short notice."

I flash my eyes towards the blonde, my eyes boring into hazel green eyes. If I could, lightning would have erupted right next to her. "Quinn, don't interject this conversation, I'm handling it."

In the meantime I see the manager shrinking even deeper into the ground. He's subtly stepping away, trying to disappear. There's no way in hell I'm letting him. I turn back towards him. "Listen here you peace of shit …."

I get interrupted again. "Sorry, I got here as fast as I could, Lord T was giving me troubles. He hid my car keys because I hid his cigarettes and then there was this whole staring battle between us, which I won by the way. But anyway, then I discovered he buried them in his litter box, which I didn't really appreciate and had a slight panic attack over, because you don't want to know the amount of germs there are currently on my car keys, even though I cleaned it of course, but still, soap isn't a 100% sanitizer for all germs and people should always be aware of cat toilets. It can give you serious infections or illness or worms or infections by a million other micro-organism, so yes. I'm sorry! I'll put down my stuff and I'll come back to hear what the issue has been."

…

I blink. Twice.

A blonde flash passed right besides us. Before I could even get a proper look at her, she was already gone. I have no clue where she ran off too. This place is a maze. Thousands of doors, yet only three hallways… Figure that one out.

What in the world just happened? Who was that? Wait, doesn't matter. What was I doing?

Damn it, that woman distracted me. I can't remember where I was in my scare-making process. What the hell? I don't get it. I'm shocked, really. This never happens to me. I'm a pro if it comes to verbal lashing. I always know what to say to overpower someone with my vicious vocabulary. And most important of all: I don't get interrupted and I don't let myself get distracted in the middle of my own speech. This is frustrating!

Whatever. Judging on the terrifying look on this dudes eyes, I've already done enough of an impression…I'll just go with silence for now, he'll have something to say… hopefully. I lower my shoulders a bit, releasing some of the tension in them and I see him taking a subtle step back.

Quinn looks at me with a slightly surprised expression. I don't think anybody else in this room sees her surprise, she's a master in hiding her feelings. Yet, years of friendship … uh I mean years of being acquaintances … or enemies who can tolerate each other … whatever. I just want to say I can see she's surprised. I'm a master in reading Quinn. Yet giving meaning to her feelings … I haven't mastered that yet. What is she so surprised about (yeah, yeah, I know it's about my silence. I just don't want to admit that, is that so hard to keep still)?

Mirk interrupts my stare off with Quinn. I narrow my eyes, looking over to a frightened Mike or Mack or … something. I'm 99% sure that Mick's the name of this pathetic human of a manager.

He clears his throat, his Adam's apple clearly visibly moving. "We'll do everything we can to fix this problem, we've called up our most experienced technician. You just saw her. I'm confident we'll have this problem fixed in an hour. Please accept our apologies. I assure you don't have to pay for this day, it's on us." He swallows away another big invisible lump in his throat, trying to calculate my reaction.

This guy is kidding right? God, I think my eyes rolled out of their sockets in my head right now. Does he really believe that was my intention? I know I don't look (and act) like an empathic person, but that doesn't mean I'm a diva. I can easily pay for this day and I am very aware other people can't. Hell, I won't even know the difference, others do.

This building looks like it cost a fortune. Even the floors look incredibly expensive. Plus, everything is so clean. If you'd drop your ice cream on this floor, you could lick it right off the floor again. No ice cream wasted, no sick germs inhaled. I'm certain of that.

However. Clean building, means good cleaning ladies. Or cleaning men. I bet your ass off they don't get the pay check they deserve. Who would pay the price for me not paying today? Not the manager. I assure you of that. I wouldn't even be surprised the technician won't get a bonus or good assurance to fix the problem. It has the vibes you know. Vibes of keeping all the money for the high ups. I hate it. I want to get out of this building. Like asap!

Nevertheless, I don't want to look soft to this Mick person either. I've got a reputation to withhold. Saying stuff like that to men like him … it's not a good idea. I'll find another way to pay my debt for this day. Not through him. I've already seen a nice, shy woman at the reception. I'm sure, if I send Quinn over there, we'll be able to arrange a nice bonus for everyone in this building. By everyone, I mean the ones who never get them. Someone who's working at the reception will know who deserves a bonus like that.

However. Back to Mack. I cross my arms over my chest. At least it feels a bit satisfactory to not pay directly to him, let him feel a cut in his budget for once. I hope… "You can begin with that. Let's see how fast this goes." Giving him another once-over, I continue talking. "You have one hour." I look at my watch for emphasis. "One hour, then I'm out of here."

Quinn lets out the most silent sigh ever at my dramatics. "Whatever, San, we'll talk about this later, let's wait for now…" To be honest, I get Quinn sometimes. She deserves a medal for putting up with my quirks. However. Feeling her gaze drumming into the side of my head … I deserve a medal for putting up with her too. It's a two way road… For sure!

Our words linger in the room for some time. I look for something to sit on. The first thing that comes into vision is the most hideous greenish sick looking sofa. I have no idea why a couch like that, is put in a conference room like this. Whatever. Doesn't stop me from sitting on it…I should make myself comfortable. I have a feeling we'll be here longer than an hour. Sitting will be necessary for me, having not gotten a lot of sleep and all that.

It's deadly quiet in the room for three more minutes. I counted them, on my beautiful, antique watch. I got it from my mother, who got it from her mother (yes, I know, that's called my grandmother, don't act like you're smarter than me, let me use the words I want to use). It's a watch with three pointers. The third and smallest one is for the seconds. It's a great way to use your time … when you're extremely bored. Wow, now I realise I just counted 180 seconds … and for what exactly?

It's tempting to challenge Mick a bit more, but he's avoiding my eyes like the plague. My eyes snap to the door on the right from shock. Suddenly it flies open. A second later someone walks into the room. My heart beats a hundred miles a minute from the abrupt interruption from my thoughts. A heads up would have been nice. My attention snaps to the person who broke the silence. It's the cute, but odd, blonde woman that enters. She's still in a rush, although it doesn't look like she just ran a marathon anymore. It takes her a minute to analyse the room for a bit.

God this woman is gorgeous. Just fall on my ass from bending over too much to look her way, drowning in my own spit and saliva from drooling, drop dead gorgeous, beautiful, breathtaking … I don't know what else I can say, my mind just short circuited. God. I can't believe I'm horny again. it hasn't even been 24 hours yet since I've left another woman's bed.

All of a sudden, we make eye contact. It happens in a flash. The most beautiful ocean blue eyes come into my vision. They're the most appealing eyes I've ever seen. It's a shame I only saw them for a millisecond. Before I can properly process her complete appearance, her range of vision turns to somewhere else. She steps to Mack, sorry Mick (my apology was sarcasm by the way).

"Good morning sir. What can I do, I heard on the phone there's a problem happening?"

It's not a conversation meant for me, but I can't see myself to make me not listen to their talk. I'm mesmerized by her voice. She speaks very polite, in a very soft voice. I don't get why she's so warm-hearted towards Mick. He's the most incompetent boss in the world.

"Morning Brittany, thank you for coming over this fast. I know how important a structured schedule is for you, so I appreciate you came anyway. We can't seem to get the recording studio up and running, the other technician thought it was a software problem, but then the power shut down completely. You are our best technician, who sees it all … so would you mind taking a look at it?"

…Alright fine, that was polite enough. Maybe he's not the most incompetent boss in the world. When she, Brittany, starts walking toward the recording studio, she makes eye contact with me again. I'm giving her my signature smile, but she's gone before I could even introduce myself. Huh, odd, normally people can't wait to talk with me. Maybe she didn't recognize me. She hasn't heard yet that I'm not miss Griffin, one of my aliases. Yeah that's it.

Plus, this is her job. It's not her job to talk to the clients of this studio. I hope she knows what she's doing. I've experienced and heard of technical issues that can take up multiple days before they get fixed. I sigh inwardly. How I wish I could get started. When it comes to recording my songs, I always have a strict routine I do beforehand. It's been already two hours now since I did that, so I really should be able to start singing now, otherwise I can lose my groove.

Pfff. I give Mick another glare, reminding him (and myself) that I'm on a tight schedule here.

"Would you like some coffee or water miss Lopez and miss Fabray?" the manager asks, gesturing to a small looking coffee machine in the corner of the room.

"Yes please, I take mine black, and Santana with some milk and sugar" Quinn answers for the both of us. I give her a warning look, I don't like sharing my coffee-preferences with strangers. And she knows that. She just shrugs, ignoring my jab.

When he walks out of the room to grab some cups or something I hit Quinn's arm. "Can you believe it, how difficult is it to ring someone up and tell them they have technical problems so we can't record for the moment? Now we're just here wasting our time."

She sighs "I know Santana, communication could be a bit better, but maybe they were afraid we would cancel and go to another studio? There are so many options in this city, it's ridiculous." Checking he's not back yet, Quinn leans a bit closer and speaks with a low voice. "At least he looks sincere in his apologies. We have some spare time, we're not really in a rush."

I smirk "Maybe you're not in a rush, going to an empty house. I've got a date this evening."

Now she's laughing "Hah, you mean one of your hook-ups that won't even stay the night? Who is it, Sophie? Alex? Margot? Another one?" She gives me a painful pat on the back. "You think you're hurting me, but I prefer going to an empty house… which isn't empty by the way, my dog is perfectly good company. Anyway, I prefer that over meaningless sex."

I ignore her insults, and lock out her voice. There's some commotion and through a window I see Mick walking towards us from the hallway. Right before he walks in I whisper to Quinn (I need to have the last word, sue me) "At least I'm getting some, how long has it been for you? Feels like a 100 years ago." At that she elbows me in the ribs just a little too hard. She's so going to pay for that later!

30 minutes later

I'm already starting to lose my patience, even though I know for technical problems it hasn't been that long, still, I'm not a very patience born person. I see Mick nervously looking at his watch every few minutes, probably realising how bad it would be if I'd walk out of here unhappy. I have a lot of influence on people with money.

How come you ask?

Well, a year ago I got famous with a song I made, put an album out there. Went on tour and only gained status after that. Now I want to make a second album, with only original songs. A year ago I asked Quinn to help me manage everything, and since she has a business degree she eagerly agreed. Our friendship has had its ups and downs during the 8 years we've known each other, but we survived high school together. That means a lot.

So yeah, anyway. Lots of people want to know me. Lots of people want to be around me. Or around my money. Yes I have a luxurious home and luxurious cars. Yes I have everything my heart can desire in a house, but … most people don't know that I'm not that high in cash. I give a lot of it away to anonymous charities. So yeah, sucks for those people who want me because of my money. Luckily it gives me the luxury of choosing who and what I spent my time with. Although … being popular definitely has its downs too, besides the trusting part. But that's not for now to explain.

Just when I was going to ask Mick something, the beautiful… ergh I mean blonde woman, Brittany enters the room again.

"It's fixed sir, there was a problem with the generator, which we don't originally need, but for safety it is linked with the main electrical circuit in this building. That's why electricity went out without a warning, and because of the software problem that I then saw was a connection problem with the modem, so even with electricity there were connections failures. That meant I needed to reset the modem, because in addition of the safety issue he had also shut down. Meanwhile the generator is running again, if needed."

I'm nodding my head like I know for sure what's she's talking about. Quinn gives me a strange look, silently asking me why I'm showing interest to such a conversation. I just shrug my shoulders, not in the mood to explain myself.

When I give my focus back to the conversation before me I see them both staring at Quinn and me. Brittany looks around my age, wearing a simple blue jeans with a T-shirt and hoodie. I wish I could wear hoodies these days, but I look so unflattering in them. Plus, I always get photographed at the strangest places, so now I'm always prepared for it. And most important one: Kurt. I gave him a heart attack apparently when I went out one day in a hoody and short sport shorts. Apparently that was not done.

Who cares it was at some random premiere of a movie anyway? Why does everybody dress so fancy at those things? But yeah … from that day on he took it upon himself to be my personal fashion adviser.

I snap myself back to the present, the feeling of a gaze keeps my attention awake. Wow, this girl is captivating. She's so fascinating, it's like she's trying to make eye contact, but every few milliseconds she switches to staring at the ground or somewhere else. Is she trying to be polite? Is she afraid of her boss? Is she recognizing me and is she just shy?

I don't know, I don't think I see crazy fandom or recognition in her stare. I'm starting to realize we're (sort of, like I said, every few milliseconds) staring at each other for a few long seconds. It's making me almost shy too. What in the name is happening here? I'm never shy. And why does eye-contact suddenly feel so invasive?

Quinn clears her throat, breaking the silence. "Hi, I'm Quinn, it seems like you're the person who helped us out, thank you for that".

Her focus switches from me to Quinn … or at some point besides Quinn. Strange, is there something on the floor, like am I missing something?

"Hello, nice to meet you. And yeah, no problem, glad I could help. Hope you have a good day, but I really must be going now, I sincerely apologize. Lord Tubbington, my cat needs me, he freaks out when he's alone for too long. He lives at my parents, but they're gone for a week…"

She's starting to walk backwards, and I freeze, something in me wants to begin a conversation for some reason, but I'm fixated on the spot I'm standing. She gives me a little wave and says goodbye to her boss before she almost bolts out of the room. It takes me a few more seconds to compose myself (no idea from what) before I speak up "Wait, are we sure it's fixed, like doesn't the technical workers need to check before they can leave?"

The manager (Mirk was it?) offers me a polite smile: "I apologize, yes, but there is another technician walking around here. Brittany is … not a very social person, she's great in her job, but a bit retarded in her way of communicating sometimes."

I think my jaw dropped at his words. Wow. He did not just talk about people he works with like that? Who uses the words retarded anyway? That's like a word that's only in bad people's dictionary!

"Excuse me?! Did you just call her retarded? Is this how you deal with your people?" I grab my purse in a hurry. "I don't work with people like that. Come on Quinn, we're out of here." Before they have time to react I've already walked out of the building.

Instead of hearing the door close after I walked out, I hear rushed footsteps. It's Quinn, and she's basically yelling at me. Not too loud though, we're still in a public place.

"Santana, what in the world just happened?"

I turn around "What do you mean, what happened? Didn't you hear that man, why did he talk about Brittany that way?"

Quinn frowns her eyebrows a little bit. "Uh, well yes of course, that's not okay. But since when do you care about those things? You've said worse things about people, maybe not in such a professional context but anyway. And wait, how do you remember her name, why do you care?"

I freeze, because she's right, why do I care so much? Did I just walk out of a building because of a stranger being in a bad work situation? You don't want to know how many times I've seen that before. It's a toxic world. It's a toxic job I'm working in. Ow hush. I know it sounds like the only thing I'm doing is complaining, but that's not right. I love my job. Wouldn't change it for the world. Though you can't possibly accept that behaviour right? And sure yeah, I've never tolerated it before, but I've also never reacted to it in public before. So why am I suddenly reacting so heavy now?

While I'm thinking, Quinn is still staring at me. I try to find my wording. "I don't know, I guess I wanted to do something dramatic for now." I drop my shoulders in defeat, realising I really need to record my album this week. This studio is literally the only high quality option right now. I turn back towards the door. "Let's head back inside and get this over with." Before I enter, I turn back around, remembering her words. I point my finger towards her, a threatening glare visible on my face. "But I would never, and I mean never, call someone something like that. And you know that."

I don't give her a change to react, because I know she'll confront me with questions I don't know (and want to have) an answer for.

When I'm walking back inside the building in the hallway I bump in to someone. My mood has just worsened. And I really didn't think that was possible. "Ouch, watch where you're going, no estas bien, como …"

Before I start rambling in Spanish further, I realise I bumped into her. The end of my rant dies down. I look at crystal blue eyes and I don't really know how to read her. I see panic in her eyes and her body looks very tense. Every few moments her fists clench and her fingers twitch in a nervous way. She looks so … controlled! It's like she's consciously moving every muscle in her body. Even her breathing and eye muscles seem consciously coordinated for some reason. I don't know, does that make sense? It's almost like a full panic attack that she's keeping under control.

She looks me directly in the eyes. There's no fear visible in them though, only the waver in her voice betrays her anxiety. "I'm sorry, uh ii need to go, I apologize for not looking where I was walking, sorry."

My heart stops. I think this was the most sincere apology I've ever received in my life. You get what I mean? You know how people can say a thousand 'sorry's? It's like we've started to live in a world where apologies don't mean a thing anymore. It's a shame, it's too easy to say sorry without meaning it. Nobody has the dignity anymore to not apologize if they don't mean it. Just gain some authenticity people!

Yet, for some reason I feel like she really meant it. And it's only half her fault what happened! I start to open my mouth to form an answer, but she's already walking out of the building. Quinn was just opening the door and walking in the hallway when she passes Brittany. She gives a barely visible polite nod towards Quinn and walks out of the building to the streets. Quinn gives me a bit of a confusing look before I shrug my shoulders and walk back further into the studio, looking forward to just get this day over with.

After getting another speech of fake apologies from Mick, we finally get to the right studio to start recording. Finally! That's what I'm talking about. Singing is my jam! Quinn behind the screen with one other girl or dude. Me in my small little room. Headphones on. Microphone before me. Lyrics cheat sheet in vision… Perfection.

This is what I do. Recording songs. Singing songs…This is what I know.

However …there's one thing that's not normal. I can't seem to get this blue eyed mystery person out of my head. No matter how hard I try to focus on what's before me, she stays on the background of my mind. And when the hours pass, I realise that didn't change through the entire day.

If only I knew then that was the first step to the most important chapter of my life, I would've …

Uh I don't know. Maybe I wouldn't change that part. I wish parts of our story went differently, but I'm glad our story didn't evolve during one night. Plus, Brittany is a strong believer that everything happens for a reason … so I guess everything happened the way it should have?

Looking back to it … I can't believe I was so stubborn in ignoring those first signs. Signs of my own feelings. I can admit now, before that day … I was barely present in my own life. I sang. I accepted praise like it was part of the oxygen I needed. I ran through life and made Quinn clean up my messes... Especially when it came to hooking up or dates. Which was another example of going through life in numbness. I was glad to give and not really get something out of it myself. Sure, I got off after my … nightly events, but I always rode solo for that part. When the girls were already gone.

I just don't trust them to let them in you know? I don't do emotions. Eye contact. Kissing. Sharing the intensity of getting of… it's too much… Yet that evening? That evening after recording my song at Gold star studios? It was the first time in a while I got something out of it. The girl (I don't remember her name, sue me if it bothers you, let's see who wins that battle, I know people) I slept with that evening was already gone, but after that … I'm lying if I told you I wasn't thinking of a particular person I met that day. And I don't fantasize about other people. Ever. Or never, depends on how you see it.

So yeah, anyway. How's that for a first meet? Not talking, awkward eye contact and bumping into each other on your way out? Unchangeable story right?

Or wait! I would have changed something about that day. I would have thrown my coffee in that Mick (yep that's officially his name) guys face and I wouldn't have recorded my songs that day in that studio anymore. Apparently the studio where 'the Celtic Kings', the band Rory and Blaine are in (friends of Brittany) records, was free that week. It's an amazing place to record your songs. Bummer we didn't know it at the time.

No, I didn't walk away from that snobby studio. It would have hurt my pride and ego. Unfortunately, at that time, I didn't want to give Quinn any more clues that someone was breaking down my exterior wall (I'm talking about Britt of course). I couldn't admit to myself yet that another piece of my puzzle stood in front of me that day. If I would have walked away, it would've looked like I cared. I didn't care about things at that time, so yeah…

Fortunately, in the end it doesn't matter. I got my revenge on that Mick guy for calling my B the r.-word. My sweet sweet revenge…

Hello everyone!

What do you think? Do you like the subject of the story? I hope you'll like it.

I can't promise an update every week or two weeks, but do promise I'll finish this no matter what.

Have a good week!