As much as I love that part, that is not how this story starts. It begins when I saw her on my first day on jail. Oakridge Middle School, 1993.
I was thirteen years old. She was turning fifteen.
I considered myself a very mature little asshole. Of course, now that I look at how I was, I feel stupid for thinking I knew everything back then. I knew nothing— the only thing I was sure about was my sexuality. I had fallen in love with Quinn Fabray the year before (probably the darkest season of my entire life) and I knew that girls were my thing. That had been my revelation. My life-changing experience, I don't even remember the day I realized it; I just remember never feeling like I did before.
But whatever, after that, I switched schools twice because of my mother's job, which help me with the whole "getting over her" thing. She was a surgeon, a really good one, and we had to move around the country sometimes; she was that passionate about her profession and I loved her deeply for that.
I met Cute Girl on the day I started school in Seattle. I wasn't even expecting to meet someone, I was nervous and anxious and tired... I wanted to go home, I really didn't want to go through the new-girl phase. I had been there before and it wasn't cool. However, I did meet her.
Fourth period before lunch, on Advanced Math. Algebra was something easy and the school was very pleased with my grades so they let me take the class with the older kids. I never flinched at them, I knew I was smart and that I deserved to be there— I also had been checking out the older girls and they were fine.
She was the prettiest though. She caught my attention very quickly. And I got the seat behind her, so noticing her was kind of inevitable. I learned her name and saw what she was like. I observed how the boys struggled to get her attention; but I understood— she was perfect.
Guys didn't really approach me very often... Or ever, but I could imagine how it felt. Getting hit on by a bunch of losers with pimples all over their faces, with their dopey grins and the dirty thoughts sliding around their fucked up minds... It must have been awful, but she never showed it. Really Cute Girl seemed to like attention, but I never saw her truly interested on one of them. She knew she deserved more.
She didn't look at me during the first three weeks, but I was still hung up on her. She was so beautiful and I felt disadvantage because she was older. And beautiful. And popular.
Until it happened.
It was quick and simple but it got my head spinning for days. Mrs. Nogales told us to make groups of four and try to resolve a big math problem. And when I saw her name next to mine on the list I smiled so hard. We were next to another girl and some quiet guy named Claude. She was sitting in front of me and I couldn't stop looking. It was difficult— having to look away from her because who the hell likes being stared at. She didn't look at me at first and it frustrated me, but I let it be. But then she spoke.
"Santana, right?"
I froze instantly, my eyes widening subtly. Her blue eyes were staring right at me and it was hard to hold her gaze. "Yeah."
"Do you have a rubber band?" She asked, caressing her wild hair with slender fingers.
I was about to say no, but then I let my hair down and handed her my black hair-tie. She smiled and looked at me regretfully. "Do you have another one for yourself?"
She was cute as hell. I lied. Of course I did. "Yeah, it's in my backpack."
"Thank you so much, I'll give it back to you at the end of the day, I promise." She laughed, handling her blonde hair and putting it up in a bun. It was supposed to be messy, but she looked absolutely great.
"Don't worry," and I clicked, she was still looking at me, it was my shot. "Sorry, what's your name?"
"Oh, Brittany," she quickly said. "I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself before, I'm a bit shy."
Okay, so talking to me to introduce herself wasn't important enough to overcome her shyness, but needing a rubber band for her hair was worth it? Ouch. I was about to tease her for it, but I didn't want to make her rant with apologies, she was too cute for that.
"It's alright."
We didn't talk much after that... but it was okay.
I waited the whole day for her to give me my hair-tie back, just so she'd have an excuse to look for me, but she never showed up.
The day after, Brittany seemed completely unaware of my existence; she laughed and played around with her group of friends and then left the classroom before fifth period.
It didn't matter that she never gave it back, because I could've made a little trip to Forever 21 and gotten another pack of hair-ties, maybe lose them and buy some more if I wanted to. It was okay because everyday I could sit behind her and watch my band resting on her wrist or tied around her hair. It weirdly made me smile. I found it pleasing, I thought it was cute. I was too whipped for her and I couldn't ask her for it, and I never felt the need to.
Brittany was something to look forward to every morning, so whenever it was time to go home, I'd have to entertain myself with something else such as TV or Lana Del Rey interviews on YouTube.
But I always found myself thinking about Brittany again.
