No one is truly sane
And no one is truly kind
But the one's who have the most
Are the one's that are truly blind
Picture windows are letting in the late afternoon sunshine, shadows of the Lima Bean decals decorating the floor as people quietly work on their laptops, or talk to their friends over coffee.
Santana’s too busy crinkling her nose at the strong smell of expresso coming from the machine in front of her, she doesn’t even notice the blonde girl at the counter until a little ding from the bell alerts her.
“Hi!” The girl says, cheerfully, wearing a pink dolphin tank top and denim shorts, her hair down and bangs hanging almost in her eyes.
Santana forces herself to maintain eye contact and not glance at thee customer’s cleavage, but then she’s just distracted by the girl’s blue, blue eyes and how her glossy lips look as she talks-
Fuck. She should be listening.
“Huh?” Santana cringes at herself, how she says it so loud Rachel looks over a little worried. Thinking quickly she recovers, “I didn’t get that.”
“Oh it’s ok!” Her voice is light, airy but not stupid, no. A certain innocence maybe, something she cannot say about herself as she listens carefully. “A strawberry smoothie. Can you add whipped cream to those?”
Honestly, Santana doesn’t know. She’s only here to make extra cash over the summer before school starts. She nods.
Santana tilts her head, feels the ponytail that’s pulled through the back of her green uniform hat sway with the slight movement. “I don’t think we have sprinkles...”
“That’s ok.” She reaches into her purse than and produces a container of rainbow sugar pieces, “I always come prepared.”
Santana can’t help but smile. If only for a moment.
She rings her up, eyes lingering for far too long on the splatter of freckles on the blonde’s shoulder, across the bridge of her nose. How strong those sun-kissed arms look. Finally the brunette asks for the order, “Name?”
Take a sip of sweet poison
Devil whisper in your ear
If bad's around the corner
It's twins good is also near
She’s not gay.
She just really likes Brittany. Likes how her order is never the same, how each day she’ll come in wearing something out of a promotional commercial for a summer music festival and talk about her cat.
And sure, it’s the best part of her day. So, it’s not like she wants to date her.
Totally doesn’t want that.
Brittany comes in that day wearing a pink sunhat and matching tee, her skirt short and flip flops that don’t match.
“Hi Santana!” She is always happy, and it’s infectious. “How are you today?”
“Good.” She answers, taps her fingertips on the register, “How about you?”
“Pretty good, Tubbington didn't pawn my ballet slippers, I just left them in the pool.” She smiles, teeth bright and white and in display as she looks over the barista’s head at the menu and says, “Frozen hot chocolate, medium, please.”
Santana plugs that into the register, too distracted by the blonde's adorable behavior to question why ballet slippers ended up in water, “Anything else?”
Brittany gives her this look, like she’s really thinking about something, and then she says, “I see this really cute person all the time. I want to get them a cute drink. What's a cute drink?"
Santana tries not to look disappointed, really, and it’s not because she likes Brittany like that, but if the blonde got a boyfriend she’d-
It won’t affect her, right?
So why does the thought make her so sad?
“Caramel latte?” Santana throws out there, looking to Brittany to nod in confirmation. She gets the two drinks ready and writes Brittany’s name on the hot chocolate, handing the sharpie over to the other girl to write whatever she wants on the latte.
The shock that happens when their fingers brush is totally not gay.
She looks away for a second to get Brittany her change, but when Santana looks up the blonde is already opening the door on her way out, and the second drink sits forgotten on the counter.
“Wait!” Santana calls out, holding a dollar and fifty cents in her palm, “You forgot your…”
She picks up the latte and sees her name spelled wrong- Sandtana- in curly lettering and a phone number written underneath it.
Taste a little drop of
Love on your tongue
and I'll be
Waitin' here for your love
how long it takes
Time flies but it doesn't
She puts the number under Brittany with a heart after it, and then deletes that. Then puts it back, before settling on throwing her phone across the bed and bringing her hands up to cover her face and muffle her frustrated groan.
It’s not like she meant it like that.
Sure, Santana doesn’t have a lot of friends, but none of them called her cute and wrote her name with a little smiley face after. She barely ate anything at dinner, and under the false pretense of studying, is now not studying because she can’t figure out what to say.
Of course she thinks Brittany is beautiful, she is. With the body of a goddess and a voice like a daydream. But she likes, loves boys.
When was the last time she couldn’t look away from a boy?
Did she ever look at them, even?
This is bad.
I'm behind you if you fall
'Though I didn't cause it all
It doesn't cost a dime
You can take your time
It's evil love
She ends up messaging Brittany, and the five minutes it takes the girl to answer feels like an entire lifetime.
Hi, is this Brittany?
She waits and waits and bites her nails until the red nail polish flakes,
Is this Sandtana?
A smile creeps up on her, and she makes sure the door to her room is shut, but she doesn’t know why she does.
It’s Santana, but yes.
She can’t decide on what to say, but the typing bubbles pop up before she can think to respond and a quick message asks,
Do you have any plans this weekend, I wanted to see if you wanted to go to the church carnival on Sat?
Santana feels her heart race, like thunder rolling in her chest and it feels like too heavy of a feeling. It’s a church carnival, the weekend before the 4th of July, it’s not a date.
So why did Brittany send not one, but two winking emojis?
Before she can talk herself down from this ledge, Santana dives off head first,
Sure, what time?