The apartment door clicked shut behind Brittany as she stepped inside, the familiar comfort of home settling over her. She sighed deeply, brushing the stray hairs from her face and setting her bag down by the entryway with a heavy thud. Her scrubs, once a crisp shade of pale blue, were now a mottled mess of stains she didn't care to inspect too closely. The day had been long—far longer than she had hoped.
Quinn looked up from her spot on the couch, where she was lounging with a textbook in one hand and a pen in the other, a relaxed smile on her face. "Busy day?" she asked, her tone tinged with sympathy as she took in Brittany's weary expression.
Brittany let out a tired laugh. "You have no idea," she said, kicking off her shoes and walking further into the apartment. "A cat was sick on me. Not once, not twice, but three times today." She shuddered, wrinkling her nose at the memory as she untied her scrub top and started pulling it off, eager to rid herself of the day's mishaps.
Quinn chuckled, setting her book down on the coffee table. "I don't know how you do it, Britt," she said with a grin. "All the vomit, the fur, the claws."
"It's not all glamour," Brittany replied, stripping off her shirt completely and heading to the laundry closet in the hall. She tossed the shirt into the washer and, with a resigned sigh, added her pants, too. "But, hey, it's what I signed up for."
Quinn stood up, stretching as she made her way to the kitchen, her movements as graceful and easy as ever. She poured a glass of water and handed it to Brittany as she returned to the living room in her undershirt and shorts. "Are you working tonight?" Quinn asked, eyeing her with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
"Yeah." Brittany nodded, taking a long sip of water before setting the glass down. "Dani called out again, so I'm covering for her." She paused, letting out another sigh as she mentally prepared herself for a night shift at the bar. "It sucks, but I could do with the extra cash."
Quinn grimaced. "That does suck. Kurt's coming over in a bit, too—he's bringing wine and Chinese food," she said, her voice laced with disappointment. "Next time, I guess."
Brittany mustered a smile. The thought of spending a night with Kurt, Quinn, and a bottle of wine sounded like exactly what she needed, but the reality of bills and tuition loomed overhead. "Yeah," she said, forcing a note of cheerfulness into her voice. "Next time. Maybe this weekend?"
"Deal." Quinn flashed a sympathetic smile as she leaned against the kitchen counter, watching as Brittany disappeared into her bedroom to change. "Don't work too hard, okay?"
Brittany flashed her a quick thumbs-up before closing the door. She peeled off her remaining clothes, mentally calculating the tips she hoped she'd earn tonight, and then threw on a clean pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. The worn, faded tee hugged her comfortably, a comforting reprieve from the scrubs she'd spent the day in. She tousled her hair in the mirror, put on some lip balm, and grabbed her purse, hoping to add just a touch of confidence to her otherwise weary frame.
When she reemerged, Quinn was already setting up the living room with wine glasses and bowls of chips and salsa, a faint hum of excitement in the air as she waited for Kurt. "Don't wait up," Brittany said with a smile as she made her way to the door. "I'll try not to get too covered in spilled beer and cheap cologne." Quinn chuckled, blowing her a kiss. "Be safe! And bring us the good gossip tomorrow."
With a wave, Brittany headed out into the cool evening, her heart set on surviving another night shift and somehow finding a sliver of joy in it.
The bar was already buzzing when Brittany arrived. She could hear the steady thump of the bass from the sidewalk as she approached, the dim lights inside casting a warm glow over the familiar faces of patrons huddled around tables and at the bar.
Brittany quickly threw her jacket and purse into the back office, greeting her coworkers with a wave before slipping into her usual position behind the bar. The Friday night crowd was already in full swing, a familiar scene of laughter, clinking glasses, and the steady murmur of voices filling the space. She fell into the rhythm quickly, taking orders and mixing drinks with practiced ease, her hands moving almost automatically.
By midnight, the bar was packed. Brittany found herself racing between orders, pouring drinks, wiping down counters, and dodging the occasional flirtatious glance from customers. The busier she got, the more time seemed to fly by, the fatigue of the day slipping away under the bright lights and lively chatter.
"Brittany! Two margaritas, and a vodka soda with lime!" her coworker Unique shouted over the pounding bass of the music. Brittany nodded, grabbing the glasses with one hand and pouring with the other, moving quickly to keep up with the demand. Unique pointed to a table across the room, gesturing with her chin, and Brittany followed her gaze. Balancing the drinks, she made her way over, expertly sidestepping a group on the dance floor.
As she set the drinks down on the table, a familiar voice cut through the loud music and chatter. "No way," she heard someone say with an unmistakable edge of surprise. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked up and met his gaze. "Brittany?" Santiago's eyes were wide with surprise, a smile slowly spreading across his face as he recognized her.
She hadn't seen him in years. His face had matured, his expression softened, but there was a gleam in his eyes she recognized from high school—the same mix of mischief and curiosity that used to frustrate and fascinate her in equal measure. She managed a polite smile, feeling a bit awkward but determined to keep things professional. "Hey, Santiago," she said, trying to keep her tone casual.
"Hey," he replied, still staring at her with a mixture of disbelief and amusement. Brittany noticed two other men sitting at the table with him, neither of whom she recognized. They watched the exchange with interest, glancing between her and Santiago with raised eyebrows.
"It's good to see you," she said, keeping her voice light as she adjusted the drinks on the table. She didn't linger, offering a brief smile before heading back to the bar. The rest of her shift passed in a blur, but she could feel Santiago's gaze following her every move. She tried to ignore it, focusing on her work and chatting with Unique and the other bartenders, but every time she glanced up, there he was, watching her with an intensity that made her stomach twist.
Finally, as the crowd began to thin and the bar neared closing time, Santiago approached the bar. He leaned against the counter, giving her an awkward smile as she continued mixing a drink for another patron. "Hey," he said, his voice almost tentative. It was strange, seeing him like this—hesitant, a little unsure.
She raised her eyebrows, pausing as she finished pouring the drink. "Didn't expect to see you here," he continued with an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as he watched her.
"Yeah," she said, giving him a brief smile before returning to her work. "I've worked here for close to three years now, while I'm at college." She kept her tone casual, hoping he wouldn't push for more.
Santiago nodded, glancing down at the bar before meeting her gaze again. "It'd be great to catch up sometime," he said, his voice hopeful but tentative. She glanced at her watch—it was nearly 2 a.m., closing time. She was exhausted, her feet sore, and the prospect of a 10 a.m. class loomed over her.
"It's been a long day," she said, stifling a yawn. "And it's late. I've got class tomorrow." Santiago nodded, his expression falling slightly, though he tried to hide it. He glanced away, as if weighing his next words. "Yeah, I get it. But maybe some other time?" He hesitated, then added, "Give me your number?"
Brittany looked at him for a moment, feeling a mixture of reluctance and curiosity. She didn't know why she felt so conflicted. Maybe it was the memories of high school, or the way they'd left things between them. With a sigh, she reached for his phone and quickly punched in her number, handing it over to him without another word. He grinned, clearly pleased, and gave her a small wave before heading back to his table. Brittany watched him go, wondering what she had just gotten herself into.
The next morning, Brittany barely had time to dwell on the encounter. Her schedule was packed with classes, labs, and study sessions, and by the time she was done her only thought was of collapsing onto the couch.
When she finally trudged through the door, she let out a long sigh and dropped her bag with a heavy thud, immediately throwing herself down onto the couch. Kurt, who was perched nearby with his laptop balanced on his knees, glanced up with a smirk.
"Well, well. I was expecting you to be home last night. How was work?" he asked, his voice carrying the slight hint of a tease as he waited for the gossip he clearly thought was coming.
Brittany rubbed her temples, already anticipating his reaction. "It was… eventful," she muttered, too tired to dress up the story with any dramatic flair.
Kurt tilted his head, intrigue written across his face. "Eventful in a bad way? Or in the 'I didn't go home alone' way?" His eyebrows lifted suggestively, and Brittany rolled her eyes, shaking her head.
"No, not that kind of eventful." She paused, drawing a breath. "Eventful in the way of the past rearing its ugly head."
Kurt narrowed his eyes, visibly curious now, and closed his laptop, shifting closer on the couch. "Okay, now I need details. What happened?"
Brittany took another breath, unsure how to word it in a way that didn't sound as bizarre as it felt. "Santiago Lopez was in the bar," she said, her voice laced with disbelief even as she said it aloud.
At the mention of Santiago, Kurt's expression turned immediately from curiosity to one of protective anger. He practically bolted upright, his face filled with concern. "Wait. Santiago Lopez?" he repeated, his tone laced with a hint of venom. "Did he hurt you? Brittany, did he say something to you?"
She shook her head, waving her hand to calm him down, though she couldn't help but feel a small surge of warmth at his protectiveness. "No, no, nothing like that," she assured him. "He… he actually looked happy to see me, weirdly enough."
Kurt's frown only deepened, his eyes narrowing with skepticism. "Happy and Santiago should never be in the same sentence," he muttered, folding his arms across his chest. "I hope you threw a drink on him."
A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, but it quickly faded as she remembered the strange intensity of Santiago's gaze. "It was… strange. He acted like seeing me was the best part of his night, like there was nothing complicated about it."
Kurt's frown grew even more severe as he stood up, crossing his arms as he paced. "Brittany, that waste of space made your life, and my life, and everyone's life, hell. He practically made it his high school mission to torment everyone around him. How dare he even speak to you like he has some right to a reunion!"
Brittany leaned back, taking in Kurt's passionate reaction with a small, tired smile. She knew he was right. Santiago had been a lot of things in high school, and "kind" or "considerate" hadn't exactly been on that list. "Trust me, I'm not eager to go down that road again," she said, trying to reassure him. "But I… I don't know, Kurt. He seemed genuinely… different. Less arrogant, more like… like he actually wanted to have a real conversation."
Kurt stopped pacing, his face softening just slightly as he took in her thoughtful expression. He sighed, folding his arms and studying her closely. "And did you actually believe him? After all these years, all that… drama?"
Brittany shrugged, her gaze falling to the floor. "Honestly? I don't know what to believe," she admitted quietly. "But maybe people can change. We did, right? Who knows, maybe he did too."
Kurt looked at her for a long moment before finally letting out a reluctant sigh. "Maybe. But that doesn't mean he deserves any of your time or trust. You don't owe him anything, Brittany, especially not after everything he put you through."
"I know," she replied softly, appreciating his words more than she could say. "Let's hope that's the last we hear about Satan," Kurt declared dramatically, breaking Brittany's train of thought as he flopped back onto the couch.
She laughed lightly, appreciating his humor but feeling the pang of guilt that came with the truth: Santiago wasn't as far out of her life as she'd implied. Brittany reached for her phone, out of habit more than anything, and her stomach sank when she saw three messages waiting for her, all from "Maybe: Santiago."
Her finger hovered over the screen as she skimmed the previews.
Hey, I hope this isn't weird, but I wanted to say thanks for giving me your number.
I really do want to catch up sometime. Let me know when you're free.
Hope your morning classes weren't too bad. Take care, Santiago.
Brittany quickly locked the screen, sliding her phone into her pocket before Kurt noticed. His protectiveness would explode into full-blown outrage if he knew Santiago had been texting her. She shifted in her seat, forcing a neutral expression as Kurt stretched and stood up, announcing, "Alright, I'm making dinner. If Rachel doesn't get here in time, she's getting leftovers."
He strolled into the kitchen, humming a show tune as he rummaged through the fridge as the door to the loft creaked open, and Rachel swept in with her signature flair, balancing a tote bag and a stack of folders. "I swear, this city gets colder by the minute," she announced, dropping her things onto the counter before sniffing the air. "Are those garlic cloves I smell? Kurt, you're a genius."
"Obviously," Kurt quipped from the kitchen. "Dinner will be ready in twenty. Also, you'll never believe what's happened. Brittany ran into Satan last night." Rachel froze mid-step, her eyes darting between Kurt and Brittany. "Satan? What Satan? Not, wait… Santiago Lopez, Satan?" she asked, her voice equal parts alarmed and curious.
"Ding ding ding," Kurt confirmed, pointing at her with a wooden spoon. "And get this—he was nice to her. Can you believe the audacity?" Rachel's eyes widened as she joined Brittany on the couch. "Wait, what? Nice? That's not a word I associate with him."
"Tell her," Kurt called from the kitchen. "Tell her how that pig tried to pull his 'I've changed' act on you."
Brittany groaned inwardly, but she couldn't deny that a part of her was amused by their shared outrage. "It wasn't like that," she said, though her voice lacked conviction. "He wasn't exactly groveling, but he seemed… different. That's all."
Rachel raised an eyebrow, her skepticism palpable. "I just don't trust him," Rachel said finally, softening her tone. "Even if he has changed, he doesn't deserve to waltz back into your life like nothing happened."
Brittany nodded, grateful for their concern even as it weighed on her. She hadn't forgotten how Santiago had made her feel in high school: small, insignificant, like she was always the punchline of some cruel joke.
As dinner was served, the conversation shifted to lighter topics: Rachel's upcoming auditions, Kurt's latest fashion project, and Brittany's grueling class schedule. That night, long after she'd returned to her apartment and Quinn had gone to bed, Brittany sat cross-legged on her bed with her phone glowing in the dim light. She stared at Santiago's messages, her thumb hovering over the reply button.
Every part of her wanted to ignore him, to let his words fade into the void of unanswered texts. But curiosity gnawed at her, a quiet whisper urging her to see what he had to say. With a resigned sigh, she typed a short reply:
Thanks for the messages. It's been a busy day, but I appreciate it. Hope you're doing well.
She hit send before she could overthink it, her heart racing slightly as the message disappeared into the ether. A part of her felt foolish—like she was inviting trouble—but another part felt relieved. If nothing else, she'd taken the first step toward figuring out what Santiago wanted and whether he truly had changed.
The response came almost immediately, and Brittany's stomach flipped as she opened it.
Hey! Let me know when you're free to meet up. No pressure, though!
She stared at the message for a long moment, weighing her options. Finally, she set her phone down and curled up, pulling a blanket over herself. She didn't have the energy to deal with Santiago tonight—or maybe not ever. But for now, at least, she could let the decision wait until morning.
Brittany stretched, her muscles still warm from sleep, as sunlight filtered through the blinds of her small bedroom. It was a crisp morning, promising a clear day in New York, and for a moment, everything felt peaceful. Then her phone buzzed on the nightstand, pulling her out of her tranquility. She reached for it, her brows furrowing as she read the notification: another message from Santiago.
How about dinner tonight? I leave New York tomorrow.
She sighed, setting the phone down and staring at the ceiling. The past had an annoying way of resurfacing at the most inconvenient times. Santiago's persistence had already caught her off guard. Part of her wanted to ignore him again, to let the possibility of closure—or whatever this was—slip through her fingers. But another part of her, the curious part that still wondered if he had changed, nagged at her to respond.
Is this a mistake? she thought. Her gut told her to tread carefully. The past was the past for a reason, and there was a reason she hadn't seen him since high school graduation. But as much as she wanted to dismiss him entirely, she couldn't shake the feeling that seeing him might bring her some answers—or at least some closure.
She sighed again, her fingers hovering over the keyboard before she typed a response.
Sure, meet me at Juliana's in Brooklyn at 8?
She hit send before she could second-guess herself. Tossing the phone onto her bed, she swung her legs over the side and stood, her day already looming ahead. Classes, studying, and now this unexpected dinner. It would be a long one.
Brittany breezed into the kitchen of her shared apartment, her hair still damp from the shower, as Quinn sat at the small dining table, sipping her morning coffee and scrolling through her phone. The smell of toast filled the room, making Brittany's stomach rumble.
"Morning," Quinn said without looking up, her tone distracted but warm. Brittany walked over, stealing a slice of Quinn's toast before planting a quick kiss on her cheek. "Morning," she replied, crunching on the toast. "I'll be back late tonight, so you don't need to make me dinner as planned."
Quinn finally looked up, her brows knitting in mild confusion. "Late? What's going on?" Brittany shrugged, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. "Just plans," she said vaguely, not ready to dive into the Santiago situation. "Don't wait up."
Quinn narrowed her eyes suspiciously but didn't press. "Alright, but don't forget your umbrella. It's supposed to rain later."
"I'll be fine," Brittany said with a grin, waving over her shoulder as she shut the door behind her.
The day passed in a blur of lectures, labs, and hurried notes. Veterinary medicine was no joke, and by the time Brittany was done, her brain felt like it had run a marathon. Still, the thought of her evening plans lingered in the back of her mind, a mix of dread and curiosity keeping her distracted.
By the time she arrived in Brooklyn, her nerves were on edge as she entered Juliana's. The smell of freshly baked dough and melted cheese wafted through the air as Brittany walked in, scanning the tables until she spotted Santiago sitting near the back. He was dressed casually in a fitted jacket and jeans, his posture relaxed as he scrolled through his phone. When he looked up and saw her, a smile spread across his face.
"Hey," he greeted, standing up as she approached.
"Hey," Brittany replied, her tone cautious but polite. She slid into the seat across from him, setting her bag down beside her. "Have you been waiting long?"
"Not at all," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "I got here early to make sure we got a decent table." She nodded, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the menu as a waitress appeared beside their table, a notepad in hand.
"Can I start you off with something to drink?" the waitress asked, her pen poised. Santiago didn't miss a beat. "Blue Moon, please." Brittany scanned the drink menu quickly before deciding. "Aglass of rosé for me, thanks."
With a polite smile, the waitress left, leaving them in awkward silence. Brittany let her eyes roam the room, anything to avoid meeting Santiago's gaze. She could feel the weight of his attention on her, and it unsettled her in a way she hadn't expected.
Their drinks arrived quicker than she had anticipated, and the waitress asked if they were ready to order. Santiago glanced at Brittany, raising a brow. "Want to share a Margherita?" She hesitated for a second before nodding. "Sure. That sounds good."
After the waitress left with their order, Santiago leaned back in his seat, his posture relaxed but his expression tentative. "So," he began, breaking the ice, "how have you been? It's been what, three years since I last saw you?"
"Closer to four," Brittany corrected, her voice even. She took a sip of her wine before continuing. "I've been good. Busy, but good."
"I can imagine," Santiago said with a small smile. "Veterinary Medicine, right? Mercedes mentioned it in passing once when I ran into her."
Brittany raised an eyebrow. "You ran into Mercedes?"
"Yeah, maybe a year or so ago. She didn't stick around to chat, though," he admitted, his tone light but not without a trace of self-awareness. "I got the impression she wasn't thrilled to see me."
"Sounds about right," Brittany said, unable to suppress a faint smile. Santiago laughed softly, the sound easing some of the tension between them. "I probably deserved it. How's vet school treating you?"
"Exhausting," she admitted, leaning back in her chair. "But I love it. The coursework, the hands-on experience—it's everything I hoped it would be."
"That's great to hear," Santiago said, his expression genuine. "I always knew you'd end up doing something like this. You were always good with animals. I still remember you nursing that injured pigeon back in elementary." Brittany blinked, surprised that he remembered something so specific. "You remember that?"
"Yeah," he said, shrugging. "You named it Walter, didn't you?" A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. "I did. I forgot about that."
They lapsed into a more comfortable silence after that, sipping their drinks as they waited for their pizza. Brittany found herself relaxing, the initial awkwardness giving way to a tentative ease. Santiago was different from the boy she remembered—more thoughtful, less abrasive. It was disarming.
"So," she said, tilting her head slightly, "what about you? What's been keeping you busy?"
"Work, mostly," Santiago replied, his tone casual. "I've been bouncing around a lot. I landed a job with a logistics company, so I travel a ton. It's exhausting but rewarding."
Her eyebrows lifted in genuine interest. "Logistics, huh? That sounds... intense."
"It can be," he admitted, flashing a small smile. "We're on the road a lot. We drive all over the States. Just this week, we had a big delivery here in New York, that's actually why I'm here."
He ran a hand through his dark hair, the gesture almost nervous. "I was hoping I'd somehow run into you while I was here. I didn't want to ask my mom where you were, you know what she's like."
Brittany laughed, unable to stop herself. "Oh, I do. She'd have jumped to a million conclusions if you'd asked her anything remotely related to me."
"Exactly," he said, chuckling along with her. "So, I figured I'd just hope for the best. And, well..." He gestured to her, his smile softening. "Here we are."
Her laughter faded as she looked at him, his words settling between them with a weight she couldn't ignore. "I wanted to make peace," he said simply. His words caught her off guard, and she looked at him sharply. "What do you mean?"
"I mean..." He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "I've spent a lot of time reflecting over the years. About who I was back then, the mistakes I made. And you…" He paused, meeting her gaze directly. "You were one of the biggest mistakes I made."
Brittany's chest tightened at his admission, a mix of emotions swirling within her. Anger, hurt, and annoyingly, sympathy. "That's a big thing to admit," she said cautiously. "Why now?"
"Because I needed to," Santiago said simply. "I don't expect you to forgive me or even understand, but I couldn't leave New York without at least trying to say I'm sorry. For everything."
Their pizza arrived then, a steaming, cheesy distraction that allowed Brittany to gather her thoughts. She served herself a slice, the motion automatic, as she processed his words.
"I don't know what to say," she admitted finally. "I appreciate the apology, but it doesn't erase what happened."
"I know," he said quietly. "And I'm not asking for that. I just... I wanted you to know I'm not the same person I was back then."
Brittany took a bite of her pizza, chewing slowly as she considered his words. He seemed sincere, and part of her wanted to believe him. But trust wasn't something she could hand out easily, not to him.
The silence between them stretched uncomfortably. Santiago busied himself taking another slice, his eyes flicking between her and the bustling room. Brittany finally broke the quiet, her voice cautious but tinged with curiosity. "So, where are you living now?"
"Ohio," he replied with a small nod, setting his bottle down. "Still in Lima, actually." That caught her off guard. She paused mid-bite, then set her slice down on the plate, tilting her head as she regarded him. "You're still in Lima? I thought you'd have left by now."
Santiago shrugged, his expression faintly self-deprecating. "Yeah, you and I both. I've thought about it plenty of times, but... I don't know. It's home, you know? And with work, it's just been easier to stay put. I do a lot of traveling anyway, so it kind of balances out."
"You never come home," he said finally, his voice tinged with confusion. Brittany blinked at him, her head tilting slightly in response. "What are you talking about? I do come home. Every break."
Santiago looked genuinely surprised, his brows lifting as he leaned forward slightly. "Really? Because it doesn't seem like it. You've never been at any of the Christmas Eve dinners. Or Thanksgiving. Or, well, anything."
"I know," she said matter-of-factly, her tone carrying a note of challenge. "Because you're there."
Her words landed like a heavy weight between them, and Santiago blinked, clearly taken aback. His expression shifted, the surprise melting into something harder to define, hurt, maybe, or confusion, or even guilt. He set his beer down on the table carefully, as though giving himself time to process her statement. "Oh," was all he managed, his tone awkward.
Brittany felt a surge of satisfaction at his discomfort, but it was quickly replaced by a strange sense of sadness. She hadn't expected to lay her feelings bare like that, and the rawness of her confession left her feeling exposed.
"Look," he began, his voice hesitant, "I didn't... I mean, I guess I didn't realize how much of an impact I had. On you, I mean."
She raised an eyebrow, a hint of incredulity in her expression. "You didn't realize? Santiago, you made my life miserable for years. Every snide comment, every moment you made me feel small, it adds up. And it doesn't just go away because you decided to apologize over pizza."
His face flushed, and he looked genuinely contrite. "You're right," he admitted. "I was a jerk. No, worse than that. I was cruel, and there's no excuse for it. I can't change the past, but I swear to you, Brittany, I've changed. I'm not that guy anymore."
She studied him for a long moment, her blue eyes piercing. "Maybe you have," she said finally. "But that doesn't mean I owe you anything. Forgiveness, trust, a place in my life, it's not that simple."
"I know," he said quickly, his voice earnest. "I don't expect anything from you. I just... I don't know. I guess I wanted you to know that I'm sorry. That I think about what I did, and I hate the person I was back then.
Brittany looked down at her plate, her appetite gone. She'd spent years avoiding him, refusing to engage with anything that reminded her of the pain he'd caused. And now, here he was, apologizing and laying his regrets bare. It was a lot to process.
"I'm not saying it doesn't matter," she said after a pause. "Your apology, I mean. But it's not going to magically fix everything. It's not going to erase what you did."
"I don't want it to," he said softly. "I just want to do better. Be better."
The sincerity in his voice tugged at something deep within her, and she hated that it made her feel even a flicker of empathy. She'd worked so hard to bury her feelings about Santiago—anger, hurt, resentment—but now they were all bubbling to the surface, demanding to be acknowledged.
"Do you ever think about what it was like for me back then?" she asked, her voice steadier than she expected. "What it felt like to walk into a room and know you were waiting with some cruel comment or insult? To feel like no matter what I did, it would never be enough for you?"
He looked stricken, his hands clenching into fists on the table. "I think about it all the time," he admitted. "I hate that I was that guy, Brittany. I hate that I made you feel that way." She nodded slowly, letting his words sink in. "Good. You should."
Their conversation fell into another stretch of silence, but this time it felt heavier, more charged. Brittany took a sip of her wine, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of her emotions. She didn't trust him, not yet, but she couldn't deny that his words felt genuine.
The waitress came by to check on them, breaking the tension. Santiago asked for the check, and Brittany sat back, her arms crossed as she watched him. He looked older than she remembered, his features sharper, his demeanor more subdued. It was strange to reconcile this version of him with the boy who had once made her life hell.
As they stepped outside into the crisp night air, Santiago turned to her, his hands shoved into his pockets. "Thanks for meeting me," he said, his voice quiet but sincere. "I know I didn't deserve it." She nodded, her arms still crossed against the chill. "Take care, Santiago."
He hesitated for a moment, as if he wanted to say more, but then he simply nodded and walked away. Brittany watched him go, her breath visible in the cold air. A part of her felt lighter, as if she'd finally released something she hadn't realized she'd been holding onto. But another part of her felt unsettled, unsure of what this encounter meant for her or what it said about who she was becoming.
As she turned and walked in the opposite direction, she decided that she didn't need all the answers right now. For tonight, it was enough to know that she'd faced her past and that she was strong enough to keep moving forward.