my dirty little secret - part eleven
Title: My Dirty Little Secret
Author: kalexico
Title: My Dirty Little Secret
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part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight
part nine, part ten
It was a Saturday afternoon and I was on my way to Santana's in an attempt to escape my mother. I was growing sick and tired of her scrutinizing and had taken off with the excuse of a visit to the library. I hadn't told Santana that I was coming over, because we never did. We just showed up.
I noticed that Santana's car was in the driveway, but her parents' car was gone. I got out of mine, reached behind the flowers on the window sill and grabbed the key. I could hear loud music blaring, another sign that my best friend was home alone. I made my way inside and after quickly scanning the downstairs area, I went upstairs to Santana's room.
I didn't think to knock on her door - we never did. Needless to say I was beyond shocked to find Santana with a hand stuffed in her shorts, the other one clutching a magazine, breathing heavily and moaning. I hadn't heard the sounds over the music. For a moment, I was overwhelmed, frozen on the spot. I was surprised, but also... aroused. I bit my lip as she threw her head back in pleasure, tossing the magazine aside as she came.
She opened her eyes and that's when she saw me. She hadn't before, her eyes having been glued to the magazine.
"Quinn? What the fuck? For how long have you been standing there?"
"Relax, Santana. Just a minute or so," I said as I walked over to her. She blushes furiously and quickly buttoned up her shorts. I took the magazine and looked at the picture that had gotten her off. Now it was my turn to blush.
The girl in the picture had blonde hair, hazel eyes, pale skin and was exactly my body type. In short - the girl looked a lot like me generally. It made me blush and also wonder if it meant anything. I took a look at the cover - it was that same girl. It was a battered Maxim, torn around the edges.
Santana looked away in shame.
"Well, I guess it's a good thing we already came out to each other," I said dryly. "Otherwise, this would have been about ten thousand times more awkward."
"It's fucking awkward already," Santana spat, her face still hot in embarrassment.
I sat down on the bed. "Why don't you go to the bathroom, wash your hands, come back and pretend I didn't just walk in on you with your hands in your panties getting off?"
"Jesus, Q," she flushed. "What happened to you?"
I shrugged. "I've accepted myself. Thanks to you."
She muttered something as she got up to follow my advice, but I didn't catch it. Waiting for her to come back, I flipped through the magazine mindlessly. I stopped at a picture of a very sexy Latina and felt an aching need down there.
That was the moment Santana came back. "That's not my magazine," she said in a half-hearted attempt to convince me of her innocence. "It's just... they're Tiago's. I came out to him when he last visited and he gave me his old Maxims as some kind of fucked up present. And I just... well... you know."
I couldn't help my curiosity. I knew that I had told her we'd pretend it hadn't happened, but well, since she brought it up again... "Do you do it a lot?"
"What? God! I don't know. What's a lot?"
"Do you, like, do it daily?"
Santana sat down, making sure there was distance between us. "No."
I raised an eyebrow Quinn-style and scooted over closer to her.
"Not with a magazine," she gave in. "But I don't... I mean, I don't, like, watch porn or anything."
I raised my eyebrow again.
"Fucking hell, Quinn! Okay, so maybe I do sometimes. But not all the time. Not as often as the magazines. Only, like, when it's really bad."
"When is that?"
"Fuck, I don't know. I would also like to point out that I haven't had sex with anyone since Brittany and Brittany and I would go at it like daily, so I think that's a good excuse for, you know, this. I mean, at least I don't go and date rape girls or something."
"Hey, I'm not judging you here," I smiled softly. "This is what friends do. They talk to each other about sex and love."
Apparently, Santana had decided to turn the tables on me. "So, speaking of love - how's that Tumblr girl of yours doing?"
I sighed. I absolutely hated lying to Santana. "I don't know. It's just... I don't think it could work out in the end."
"Why not?" Santana asked, genuinely interested. "Is it the distance thing?"
I looked at her, straight into her eyes. I couldn't help but feel like my next words weren't that much of a lie. "Yeah. The distance is unbearable. I want to be able to hold her and have her know what it means to me. I want to be able to touch her and have her know what it means to me. She's just... she's so far away. It seems like she's close to me, but in reality, she isn't. And I don't know how much longer I can deal with that."
The distance I felt to Santana was worse than a physical - it was emotional. It was pure torture to be so near her, but be so far away at the same time. I almost wished Tumblr girl was real and that I was in love with her. At least Tumblr girl felt the same way. My thoughts went back to the magazine and how much the girl in the picture had looked like me. I really didn't know how to feel about that. Maybe it was a coincidence? Maybe Santana just had a thing for blondes and that was the only reason? I couldn't allow myself to hope that there was another explanation, one that was closer to my own feelings.
Santana wrapped an arm around me and pulled me into her. I rested my head on her shoulder.
"It'll be fine," Santana said softly, pressing a kiss on my hair. "You'll meet someone. I mean, look at you... you're hot stuff," she winked. I blushed, again. I used every ounce of willpower I had not to read too much into it.
"You think so?" I asked in a small voice, fishing for a compliment.
She leaned back and took me in head to toe. She smirked. "No," she said flatly.
My smile wavered. "Oh."
"I know so." Her smirk grew wider and I playfully hit her arm. "And believe me, I know a girl is smoking when I see her," she added.
I closed my eyes and cursed myself. How was I ever going to stop myself from being in love with her? How was I ever going to deal with it the day she came up to me and told me she met someone? Would I be the pathetic best man at her wedding, pining over the bride - or in this case, one of the brides? I knew I couldn't do it. I had to tell her how I felt before it was too late, but I was so scared of her rejecting me that I couldn't bring myself to. This would've been a perfect moment. The right words were on the tip of my tongue, but I backed out. I couldn't.
She changed the subject and my chance was gone, just like that. "So, anyway, what did you come over for?"
"Just my mom," I sighed. "She's just so... controlling. I can't stand it. I can't breathe with her watching my every step, giving me 'advice' all the time. She makes me feel so childlike, so unable. I hate it. I needed to be away from her."
"Well, my parents are gone for the weekend. They left this morning and this afternoon, they texted me that they were going to visit my aunt and stay the night. Tiago is nearly never at home and Carlos is of course at college."
"Great," I smiled. "So that means we have the large flatscreen for tonight?"
"Yep. And the extra sweet popcorn for you."
God, how she read my mind.
Santana's POV
Okay, so I know this is really Quinn's story. I've been reading it along with her writing it and I've been surprised a few times. There are tons of things I didn't know. Anyway, Quinn's asleep right now and as much as I hate it, I'll probably be gone by the time she wakes up, so I wanted to surprise her by writing down here how I fell in love with her.
I knew fairly early on that I was into girls. It took me years to face it and accept it, but I've always just... known. I watched Quinn grew into the ridiculously beautiful woman she is and I've always admired her. I've also always had a thing for her.
As kids, it was the typical inability to deny her anything. Whatever Quinn wanted to do, we did. Whatever crazy plan she had, I ended up going along with it. I did it all for that huge radiant smile of hers. I did anything for that smile.
As we grew older, I realized that I kind of liked her as more. I figured that she'd never want me that way and that she was straight anyway, so I never told her. I just fucking lived for her hugs or her kisses (on the cheek).
Then Quinn got pregnant and it hurt like a motherfucker. I realized then that this was more than just liking someone. I was angry, I was hurt, I hated her irrationally - but I never let any of it shine through. Sometimes, however, I couldn't contain myself and I'd snap at her or be vile. The confusion and hurt on her face made me feel so bad about myself that I'd immediately try to make it up to her. I decided that I couldn't do this anymore - I couldn't want her anymore. I mean, who would've thought she was gay if she had gotten pregnant? It was only years later that I learnt that lesbians in high school were the group with the highest risk on teen pregnancy.
So I ran to Brittany. The thing is, I'd always liked her too. Not the way I was into Quinn, but I liked her well enough to try and see if there could be more. I tried to fall in love with Brittany, and I did. I really did love her, but it was just on another level. The feeling couldn't compare. And every time I was convinced that I was over Quinn and fully into Brittany, Quinn would do or say something to get me back to square one.
So, even though I genuinely loved Brittany, at least a part of my heart was always with Quinn. I knew that in the end, no matter what, Quinn only had to snap her finger and I'd do whatever I could to make it happen. That's partly why I didn't fight harder for Brittany. I loved her, but I knew that I wasn't being fair in trying to get her to be with me on my terms when she wasn't the only one I loved. I knew she deserved better, and I let her go. It hurt to let her go, because I did genuinely have feelings for her, but I knew it was the right thing to do. I think it was the first time that I wasn't being selfish.
Fast forward to where Quinn left the story - when she had once again fled her home from her scrutinizing mother to the safe place that was mine. She stayed the night, we watched movies and she had popcorn. I was trying very hard to not be confused about things between us. I was still actually recovering from the shock that was her telling me she was gay - the hope it had brought along - the inevitable downfall when she told me about Tumblr girl. And then the shame when she caught me with that magazine. Along with the guilt of masturbating with my best friend in mind.
The lust was there - I can't recall a moment when it wasn't from the moment I hit puberty and hormones took over. I had suppressed it, ignored it, but was never able to chase it away.
The next morning, I woke up alone. I went downstairs, figuring I'd find Quinn there. When I entered the living room, I found her on the couch, in front of the TV. She was wearing her nightwear - a thin tank top and tiny shorts. She had a bowl of cereal in her one hand and a spoon in the other, eyes trained on the television, her hair still messy. It was that sight that made me realize just how much I'd always be hers. It was then that I finally crossed that thin line and knew that there was no return. That I'd never be able to deny it again. It was probably an accumulation of years and years of confusion about my actual feelings towards her. When she turned her head, saw me and smiled, my world stopped.
I'm in love with Quinn Fabray, I thought to myself. And there will never be a second that I won't be anymore.
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