Chapter One
A half-hearted smile played across Santana's face as she listened to another one of Sam's idiotic ramblings. She wasn't even really listening; all her attention was on the girl at the other side of the choir room, the girl with leg warmers on her arms and a blank look in her eyes. Santana filled with longing as she watched her, and she didn't even bother suppressing it this time. She knew what she wanted, and what she wanted was Brittany. The feelings were too profound to be denied any longer.
She looked back at Sam, who was too daft to even notice that she hadn't been listening.
"So I think there should be more jelly than peanut butter," he said. "The peanut butter is just so overpowering, you know? Makes you want to chug a bunch of water."
"Yeah," Santana mumbled. "Totally."
Sam pursed his lips.
"You know," he said, bringing his voice lower, "something gives me the feeling you're never really paying attention to what I'm saying."
"Oh, really, dumbass?" shot Santana.
Sam gasped stupidly and started to say something, but Santana tuned him out and looked back over to where Brittany was. She was with that wheelchair kid now, sitting on his lap as she fussed over his hair. A raging jealously washed over Santana. This was worse than any jealously she had ever felt before - and believe me, she could get jealous like no one else. But this time was different. She actually loved Brittany. It wasn't lust, or need for popularity, like she had felt for Puck, Sam, or Finn. She wanted Brittany for, well, Brittany, and nothing else. The knowledge that she couldn't get the one thing she wanted more than anything else, for the first time in her life, made her want to kill a bitch. Preferably the bitch in the wheelchair.
"Santana!" Sam yelled.
She rolled her eyes.
"Listen, dork," Santana growled. "I don't think you get what being my boyfriend means. It means that you don't talk to me about sandwiches, you don't bother me when I'm obviously immersed in something else, and you don't expect me to pay any attention to you when we're doing anything that doesn't involve making out. Got it?"
Sam opened his mouth to say something, then closed it and nodded.
Santana gazed back at Brittany. She was giving Wheelchair Kid cute pecks on the cheek and toying with his glasses - that was too much. Santana left just as the tears started to well in her eyes.
*****
Santana hurled things into her locker with a force that could knock out a sumo wrestler. She didn't care that she was probably breaking her books, or that tears were ferociously streaming down her face. She didn't care about anything anymore...anything but Brittany.
"Are you okay?" said a voice from down the hall.
Santana cringed. She knew that voice like no other.
"Leave me alone, Britt," she muttered through clenched teeth.
"Santana, I want to help you," Brittany said. She reached out her arms, but Santana flinched back.
"You're only m-making things worse," she stammered. "Go away, Brittany...j-just go!"
She stormed down the hall, not even bothering to close her locker.
"What did I even do?" Brittany yelled, running after her.
Santana didn't respond. She just trudged onwards, each step away from Brittany piercing her heart and making her tears flow harder, her sobs come louder.
No comments:
Post a Comment