You think perhaps it's the sway of her hips that has your body pulsing along with the rhythm of your heart. It might be the way your name rolls off her tongue, so familiar but so unlike any way anyone else has ever said it in your life, that has tan hands sweaty and twitching. And perhaps, deep down, somewhere locked away inside of those highly built walls of yours, you knew this was going to happen sooner or later.

But you being you, stubborn, ignorant, and egotistical you pretended that this would never happen. It's what you do. It's what you've always done since well, forever.

It all started back in seventh grade when you broke your damn leg on that court doing your morning drills. Four weeks, two days, and 18 hours before your impending move to Lima, Ohio. Right at this point in time three things cross your mind respectively. 1) Why am I staring at the ceiling? 2) Who the fuck spilled water and didn't clean it up, swear to god, if it was Alex. 3) Oh, wow, ouch hi leg. I hope you're only just sprained.

Though even as the last thought crossed your mind you knew that something was wrong. Even after your crazy ex-military basketball coach throws an icepack at you and says it's a little sprain. And through the day as that 'little sprain' gradually kept swelling no matter how much ice and elevation you gave it throughout the day. Or at 3:15 when you plop down in the passenger seat of your mothers burgundy Mercedes Benz and she tells you to take a couple of aspirin.

You especially know that shits wrong when your 'Doctor' comes back the next week with your evaluation saying it was just a really bad roll, as he types away on his phone not bothering to look at you as you sit on the examination chair. It's two weeks later when your right leg is bruised and still achingly swollen when an underpaid nurse calls you to tell you that the doctor got the x-rays mixed up with the kid next door and kindly lets you know you've been walking on a broken leg and fractured foot for a good three weeks.

You aren't even mad. Not really, because you're used to people screwing up, screwing your life around. But a part of you just snaps. The last week of school at LORMS is spent with your ridiculously rapid rise from being the school's most well-known social outcast and kick-ass fighter, to the most popular, liked, and known person strolling down the halls crutches in tow. People you once declared your enemies now huddled around you, providing the best seats, ideas, following to your every whim and command, and it felt amazing.

But as you walked the hallways with your "friends" and noticed hidden in the shadows the people you once conversed with, the small seed of internal loneliness began to sprout. And on your last day, as everyone who 'befriended' you went on their way home, and that small outcast group you once felt the most contempt with sat talking aimlessly under the entrance, that little seed had spread like wildfire, devouring every fiber of your being, numbing you, freezing you from the inside out. Alone, it was how you came that morning, and also how you left, without a good-bye or a second glance back.

It had only been three years before that when your life started that pendulum in motion. You don't remember what the date was, only that it was a Saturday morning, and your tired brown eyes opened to the sound of yelling. The old worn couch scratchy against your skin, as you silently shifts over to see what the commotion is about when it happens. And it happens quickly. The knife you secretly kept under the cushion is gripped in your left hand as your father's right hand grabs your mother's neck and pushes her against the wall as he continues to yell.

Somehow of the corner of her eye your mother see's you and whispers to quietly go in your room. Its only three minutes later to what feels like hours when you're broken mother comes in your room sobbing and beginning to pack your clothes. You want to tell her to stop and ask her what's going on. But you don't. It's not the Lopez way, at least that's what your father always told you. It's also precisely 5 minutes and 27 seconds later when your mother places your bags in the car and her single bag in the back seat when she turns to face you and said four simple words.

He kicked us out.

The 10 year old you doesn't understand. Your father loves you, and he promised you would never have to leave. You want to tell her this but she's already shut herself off. As your green-blue pearlescent Suzuki pulls back of the driveway and turns out of the cul-de-sac and you see your childhood friend stands on the corner confused, is when you feel alone for the first time in your life.

So when you're pulling onto the highway halfway through seventh grade with a broken leg to start a new life in Lima, you aren't really surprised by the lack of emotion that comes to you. You don't cry or show any sadness 'cause that's a big fat No in the Lopez way. Because somewhere, sometime, someplace, someone of the Lopez clan decided that feelings made you weak and weakness was bad, and anything bad meant you were unworthy of the five lettered last name.

When you're shaken awake by the rough hands of your stepfather telling you to get your ass out of the car you can't help the immediate scowl on your face, or the sharp pale hand that comes milliseconds later in attempts to slap it right off. It's moments like these that you wish that at 10 years old you would've spoken up all those years ago when your mother packed your clothes away. Even when she told you that you were kicked out of your own home and you desperately wanted to ask why you were being kicked out but kept silent, you wish you had. Maybe, if you had, you wouldn't be stuck here now with this shit excuse for a mother and her husband. But the past is the past and no matter how hard or badly you may try to change it, you can't.

After a while you just give up trying to find the good in things, and it doesn't bother you that much either. You're pretty sure if anyone were to open you up they'd find an empty shell of someone you used to be- could've been. And the thought makes you chuckle to yourself mentally. It's hard to care for things, and it's sad for someone so young to have already given up, but you figure there's not much left to give anyways.

Shutting out people became second nature to you, nearly first. Smiling was rare, hell any show of emotion was rare. But after years of Marc's (mother's lovely husband) 3-6 hour arguments, it was simply just easier to lose yourself. But then that didn't quell his never-ending alcohol induced anger but only spurred it on. And it grew, tenfold. He'd figured out why you're always unresponsive to his threatening advances, his screaming and yelling, so he broke you. He found the miniscule cracks in your defense system and he used them against you. So when you did react he finally had that smirk of satisfaction. But it wasn't enough. Nothing was ever enough.

There was no such thing as trust in your mind because everybody would betray you at one point or another. So then you pull up to Lima Middle School January 8th, 2010, you keep your entire self-guarded. You glance around the guidance office to see four other kids here with their parents. One of them catches your eye, she's Asian, short, dark, and almost just as stoic as you are, and you think you two might be able to get along well. But then again, that would require you to open up, and you can't afford that.

Its three days later when you actually end up starting at Lima Middle. The Asian is there again and you guess she's new as well. She makes the first move that day by handing you her schedule as you get your tour around the school, half of your classes are together and you see it as a plus. Her name's Tina and you have a lot in common from what she's told you, though you don't admit it out loud. By the time the second period bell rings the tour is over and you are sent on your way to class, Tina by your side since you have it together.

You've been rocking the single crutch lately because you aren't going to hobble around like a complete cripple, broken leg or not. Tina and you spend majority of class time doodling or passing notes about impersonal topics. Soon enough it's lunch time and you split with your new acquaintance to go check out the locker you've been assigned and organize it a bit before eating.

The hallways are crowded with noisy obnoxious not-quite-teenagers and you can already feel the migraine starting to build. You manage to get everything situated in a matter of a few minutes, but there are still a lot of people around. You're about to make your way to the cafeteria when your shoulder is bumped and causes you balance to be lost. Two options appear in your mind about how to handle the situation.

Do you want to risk cussing the bitch out for bumping you and risk a beating from Marc or pretend it didn't happen and just give a really good glare? You choose the latter cause you aren't up for a fight tonight at 'home'. But just in case for future references you turn to see who the culprit behind the push was when you heart stops, which is funny to you because you thought you honestly didn't have one left.

A flood of warmth comes first when the beating returns, second is fear, third anger, because you've worked too hard to be weak again. So you shove those feelings back deep down. Back with everything else safely locked away from potential harm. Not knowing that later they'd all just be dug back out.

After lunch you have Spanish, which in your opinion is both great and outrageously stupid because you're already fluent. But an easy grade is a grade you'll take with no second thoughts. The teacher is nice enough, Puerto Rican, with a long ass last name, pearly whites, and harry potter fan. You're all situated at the new table when it happens.

'They say when you meet the love of your life, time stops, and that's true. What they don't tell you is that when it starts again, it moves extra fast to catch up.' Ed Bloom couldn't have been more correct, even as a fictional character, because as she walked into the classroom time truly did freeze. But more so everything after that moment had passed and you were there with her, she was gone, and you were stuck there still trying to process what had actually just happened. Internally you were having the conflict of a lifetime, outside you probably looked as expressionless as you had all day.

To someone else they probably would've pulled a stunt like the main character in big fish had, but you weren't anyone else, and being a Lopez you most certainly didn't chase after anyone because of a moment, one that might not have even existed especially. So you play it of like the many other things you play off in life and continue through the third quarter of the school year, Tina still by your side.

She doesn't ask why you're so impeccably distant to her seeing how she's the only one you really talk to here, and you're glad because honestly you wouldn't know how to answer that question without opening yourself up, which won't happen if it doesn't have to. And you never ask her why she sticks with you out of everyone else in this school. It's a silent agreement and you're thankful about it.

A subconscious part of you is dying for something to go wrong, 'cause something always goes wrong. It's just the way thing work, how your life works. You're glad the third quarter is over, that means you're 9 weeks closer to escaping to your father's home for the summer, away from Marc's bruising hands, and 9 weeks closer to not having to see her for at least 2 months.

The new and final schedules come in and you see that someone in the office has taken you out of Spanish and put you in Music Appreciation. It's not much better but you don't complain, as long as you're somewhere, and it's okay, until it's not, because she's there too, and you laugh at the absurdity of it all. You were never a believer of anything until that moment because what are the odds. So it must be fate, or some otherworldly thing.

You're about to stalk off to the furthest corner until another familiar face appears, it's Tina and you feel more relaxed instantly. She beckons you over to her nook of the room and you greet each other as she tells you what the class is even about. The rest of the year looks like it won't be so bad after all,school wise at least.

You come home to the smell of alcohol and burnt food. It's not surprising anymore to find the house in this state, and lord knows you've given up trying to do anything about it. Your mother has the same look in her eyes when you find her on the living room couch staring into the air. It's the look she has when she told you that your father kicked you out. Which isn't true, he kicked her out, but apparently in her mind that meant both of us.

You're about to tell her you don't care about whatever shit she's about to lay down on you because you've been putting up with this load of crap for almost four years when she cuts off your thoughts with three words. You've heard them before, twice actually, but this time there's no sympathy, and you think you might be a robot underneath it all.

I have cancer.

And you said 'oh.' Before you turned around and left her there on the couch and headed upstairs into your bedroom, locking the door behind you, before you sat on your bed. You wonder if something's wrong with you because nothing seems to have any type of effect on anything you do. Most daughters would sit down their mother and cry until there's nothing left. Instead you turn on the radio and reread your edition of Shockwave.

The next day of school is different, for the first time you initiate a conversation with Tina, you know it throws her off but she happily accepts the new occurrence, until she realizes what you said. "I think there's something wrong with me," you pause, inhale, and then continue "my mother's been diagnosed with cancer."

You can tell she's confused by the way her already squinty eyes narrow further to the point to which if you hadn't talked to Tina on a regular basis you'd think she were asleep. "I didn't really care when she told me, I just said oh and then went upstairs a read a book," you exhale. "I think I'm broken." It's not a question, or a statement, more so a thought you've had floating around in your mind for mind, but now it floats in the air between you two.

"You might be depressed." She says after a while.

The both of you are quiet the rest of the day pondering over the conclusion she made. So when you get home you pull out your laptop and Google signs of depression. Most of the things fit you to a T, but you don't feel depressed, or upset, because Lopez's aren't supposed to feel, so it can't be depression. Right?

You retell what you came up with to Tina and she nods her head occasionally to let you know she's listening without interrupting your rant. You're almost finished when you abruptly stop, and Tina's eyes bore into the side of your head with curiosity. You want to laugh because it's nothing that would be considered serious to a normal person, but right now you've managed to talk the most in a single session since moving here. So you let your lips pull up at the corner a little as you turn to look at Tina, and she seems to get it and lets a full smile show to your near non-existent one.

The both of you probably look crazy to the rest of the Music App. Class, but in that moment you don't care because it feels good for once. Your teacher's this mean crazy pregnant band lady and you withhold a sigh for whatever lame assignment she's going to give next.

"Class, listen up we're going to be doing a music project as one of your final grades, you will be partnered up," Tina turns to you with a smirk on her face because she knows the both of you together will ace this. "here's the catch," and the smirk instantly fades at those words. "I've already picked the groups." Groans across the room are let loose, omit yourself and well her.

You don't pay attention to anything after that because you figure that whoever was assigned to work with you will come to you when they're ready. To your left Tina huffs and leaves her seat to go partner up with Rae. You know Rae's the biggest slacker in the school so you can't help but feel a little bad for your friend. It's when you're looking around at all the groups when you notice the hazel eyes that have haunted you since Spanish are missing. You pray that she's in the bathroom and her partner is sitting somewhere in the room awaiting return.

You're right about one thing out that prayer, her partner was somewhere in the room, but she wasn't in the bathroom, and nor was her partner somewhere else. You let loose a strangled breath as an ivory hand comes into view waving across your face, behind the blur, said girl you had hoped were in the bathroom.

"Look," she starts. And that voice, you think you might've died, because it's the most angelic thing you've ever heard. "I understand you don't talk much to, well anyone who isn't Tina, but as long as you do your part there shouldn't be any problems." As she speaks you take your time to observe her outfit, she's wearing a flowered lavender dress with silver flats and you can't help but feel underdressed in your dark blue skinny jeans, black hoodie, beanie, and Adidas.

You glance back up to see her looking at you expectantly, quickly you rack your brain to try and remember anything she had said that might've resembled a question but nothing pops up so you take a risk by clearing your throat and letting out a raspy "Yeah, sure." Her face changes from surprise back to a neutral state in a matter if milliseconds and you realize that her mask is artificial like yours and it intrigues you.

You want to know what's really going on under that blank expression, if her thoughts are sprinting around in her head like yours. Or why someone like her even needs a mask, she's everything you're not from what you've seen. You think you're about to get your answer when you see her start to open her mouth to speak again, but the bell rings and her mouth shuts. You feel something settle in your stomach, and you don't like it, because you shouldn't be feeling disappointed. That would require hope in the first place.

Forgetting she's still there in front of you, you sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. When you release it and open your eyes again you see that she's still there, almost stuck like when you glance behind her towards the door and notice Tina in the hallway observing you both curiously. When you bring your attention back you sense something has shifted between the two of you and you don't know what it is. You bring your right hand up to scratch the back of your neck while your left grabs a strap of your book bag and slings it over your shoulder.

You glance left and right to avoid the deep swirls of green and brown still looking at you before you let out a very uncomfortable cough. It seems enough to snap her out of whatever state she was stuck in and you feel your body relax just a little bit. She hastily grabs her bag and heads out the door with a rushed See you tomorrow, before she's out of sight. You catch up to Tina who's still in the hallway waiting for you, you can tell she wants to ask what the hell that was all about but to be honest you don't even know yourself so you just shrug and walk out to the busses.

That night you don't sleep because those damned eyes are still in your head.

It's Monday again when you see her sitting in class alone. It surprises you because you're usually the first one there. But what really gets you is how broken she looks. Blond hair fallen over her eyes, the slight hunch in her back as she curls into the knees tucked up to her chest, the small shakes to her petite frame. You feel bad, and it doesn't do anything but make you want to go over and wrap her in your arms for days. But you know you can't do that because time's running short and at any moment the others will be here too, so you softly knock on the door frame twice.

You feel a part of your heart break when you see the red in her eyes, a red that could only be brought on by crying. So you nod your head behind you and tell her to go to the bathroom and fix herself up before class starts and that you'll tell the teacher where you are. Her feet have returned to the floor and she just looks at you again, but this time you see her open curiosity and the part of her that's asking why you're doing this for her. You just shrug in return to the gaze and she stands up to head towards the bathroom, just before she passes you she pauses though and you wonder why. She places her hand on your shoulder before whispering a small thanks and continues on her way.

You can still feel the burning sensation of her hand outlined on where she placed it on your shoulder seconds after she's left. Without realizing the first half-smile in a long time creeps its way onto your face and it feels good. The warmth only she really only seems able to bring, travelling through your body making it hum and buzz at the sensation. Tina comes in next and notices the change in demeanor but doesn't comment, the just shakes her head with an amused smile and beckons you over to your seats in the back of the class. She says it's weird seeing you do anything other than frown, and that she's glad that it wasn't a permanent thing, while overdramatically sighing a breath of faux-relief.

You nudge her and tell her she's ridiculous, and that maybe you aren't broken after all. She only nods in return before everyone else is in class. You tell her you'll be right back before you head over to the teacher to let her know of your partner's current occupation. She nods in acknowledgement before standing up in front of the class and 'dismissing' us into out groups so we can work on our projects in class once more before presentations tomorrow.

You decide that it's unlikely for your partner to come back after the state you found her in before class so you go ahead and do some research on your own about Grunge music history. You feel a tap on your shoulder and suddenly your body's buzzing once more, you don't need to look to know who it is because by the way every fiber is humming you already know. "Nice of you to finally join partner." You say, it's in as light of a manner as you can muster, because you don't usually joke around ever.

It's then when you think that you might've fallen in love even more, even though you don't know that's what it was you were doing at the time. The amused chuckle behind you ignited everything in you. It was no longer a tiny buzz but an overwhelming heat, and you liked it, a lot. She walks around and plops down right in front of you. You take in her features and you're sure if god had intended perfection she was the spitting image.

Apparently you let at least a smidge of that appreciation because next thing you know she's giggling and it's the cutest damned thing you've ever heard you want to ask what, but she speaks before you can. "You can take a picture it'll last longer you know." And she smirks. You think by the end of the day you might actually die because of this girl but you don't mind. You just roll your eyes and nudge her foot with your own.

The rest of the period goes by pretty fast and you get the feeling that she's grateful you didn't ask about what happened earlier even though its slightly apparently you still want to. The projects finished by the time the bell rings and she tell you just to be prepared to ask her questions about the subject and you're a little confused but nod your head anyway. You've already learned early on that you can't say no to her, but that's a secret as far as anyone's concerned.

It's presentation day and she's nowhere to be found. You're about to explain to your teacher that she's missing and would like to go tomorrow when you hear her voice behind you. "You didn't think I was going to skip this did you?" you can hear the smirk in her voice. You turn around to give her some sort of witty remark when your words get caught in your throat, and you're stuck there gaping like a fish out of water because damn, she's beautiful.

"Cat got your tongue there?" she questions with fake innocence and a wink. You're pretty confident you swoon when she gently takes her pointer finger and closes your jaw, you shake your head no and she giggles again. You probably look stupid but with the way her hair is ruffled and, how amazing the ripped jeans look on her legs, and how her gray oversized cut t-shirt hangs off her left shoulder you can't help it. "W-what are you wearing" you squeak out and you mentally slap yourself for how pathetic you sound.

"You're going to interview me while explaining grunge music. We agreed to it on that first day remember?" she replies. You nod your head yes but honestly you have no idea what she's talking about but it's too late to back out of whatever idea this is now. The presentation goes great and you're proud of the outcome, and you can tell your teachers impressed as well. Class ends and you're first out the door with Tina though cause you've been meaning to tell you about feeling again.

You're about to delve into the conversation when a hand grabs your wrist and burns it. You stop and hold up a finger to indicate one moment to Tina's confused face before you turn your eyes to hazel. You raise an eyebrow playing limited interest even though you feel your whole arm tingling where her hand is still grasping. She drops your arm like lightning when she realizes that it was still in her possession before she reaches in her pocket and hands you your ring.

Her fingertips graze your palm and it causes heat to rise to your cheeks and you're glad for your dark complexion or else everyone would've noticed. You muster out a sheepish thanks, before shrugging your shoulders and beginning to turn around and continue on your way with Tina. You don't know if you imagine it or not but you swear a faint your welcome comes from behind you and that small little half smile appears once more as you slide your ring back on your middle finger.

You and Tina decide to walk back home so you can talk and you tell her all about the warmth, and how slightly relieved you are about not being a robot in the metaphorical sense. And you feel better than you have in a long time. You reach Tina's house and you're about to leave when you stop and turn around and shout at her to get her attention before she disappears inside. When she stops and raises her eyebrow you simply shrug once more and say "You're a good friend."

She's gives a bashful smile and a nod because the both of you know that there was a lot more to that stamen than what you said. It was a first open acknowledgement to your friendship, it was a thank you for being there, a I hope you'll still be there later on, but most of all it was an, I think I might trust you and I hope you might trust me too. But us being us, she knew and you didn't have to say those things aloud. So in return she simply says "You're not too bad yourself" Before heading inside.

It's four weeks later when you find yourself sitting at the dining room table across from you father back in Texas. Summer's been good so far and it's been relieving to get away from your mother and Marc, though tenseness still settles between yourself and the man three feet away. You figure it's because of the unanswered questions you have, like why he kicked you out all those years ago, what happened that morning, can it be fixed. So you take a jab and it cuts through the air like a sharp knife. Why'd I have to leave?

Your father stops moving mid-cut and places the silverware back down on the plate in a gentle manner, it's unnerving because he is not a gentle man. His left hand rubs his five o'clock shave from one side of his face to the other. Eyes unguarded as a sigh escape his lips. "I never kicked you out mija. I kicked out your mother, that morning she came home in another man's shirt smelling of cheap alcohol and cologne. I was not to share a bed with a cheater so I asked her to pack her things and leave. I left to get you breakfast but by the time I got back you were already gone."

It angers you that she dragged you through all of this for her mistake. And you understand the difference between dislike and hate, and you know you hate her, your mother. It bubbles inside of you for the rest of the break and when you finally get back you ignore her existence.

When you see Tina again she's changed, you don't know what it is so you brush it off as vacation stories are told and explained. She says what happened with your mother is shit and you couldn't agree more. It's open house for 8th grade and Tina couldn't take you so you're back at the school with the person you hate. You see 98% of the students from last year with their parent's. Finn's grown into an awkward stage as Puck's gone bald, you want to laugh but it would take too much effort to. After getting your new school ID you wander into the cafeteria to get all of the papers situated for lunch.

You make it to the front of the line when you hear your mother talking to some lady behind you. Turning to inform her that she's wasting time your brain registers that she's talking about you and its pissing you off. "She's been such a grouch since she came back from her fathers this summer, men what can you do with them," You're about to snap when you hear a familiar giggle from behind your mothers new 'friend' and it causes you to freeze. You look to see hazel eyes laced with amusement and it causes heat to rise through your body, and you turn before she can see the flush occupying your cheeks.

You're back in the car when your mother speaks to you again. "That Judy woman was quite nice; they're the type of people you need to start associating with from now on Santanita. Her daughter is in your grade I believe, make friends with her it would do you better than that Asian girl that's always around." You don't give her the satisfaction of an answer as your look outside to watch the grass pass by in a stream of green. It's the first day of the new school and Tina's waiting in the usual spot. Schedules in hand you both let out a disappointed sigh because neither of you have classes together. The morning bell rings and the both of you head to your separate classes.

For the first two hours you have Algebra 1 at the end of the 300 hall. You enter the class to see it full of people you had class with last year. A short is man, most likely half black with glasses on tell everyone already there to just sit wherever you please. The room is aligned with partner science like tables, three along the far right wall against the windows and the rest evenly spaced facing towards the board in the room. You walk to the table second from the front and next to the first of three lining the windows, and sit on the left side.

Elbow space is basically a necessity when it comes to being a South Paw. Before you know at least half of the seats are filled omit the one next to yours and you think that this will be a good peaceful year. The people around you are having irrational loud bursts of joy to every new classmate that arrives and you just aimlessly doodle on the notebook in front of you. You hear the chair next to you being dragged back and you figure one of the other desks needed it so you continue what you're doodles.

That is until the added sound of a bag plopping on the ground next to the desk, another scoot from the chair, and a sigh comes from your right. Curious to who sat beside you, you turn your eyes to have them connected with the same amused entrancing hazel as before. To say you were confused is an understatement as you drag your eyes away and look around the room to see at least ten other unoccupied seats.

You want to ask her why she's sitting here instead of with her friends but decide against it, whatever her motives you don't want to be involved. Mr. D your apparent teacher introduces himself and the class before handing off the annual "getting to know you" papers. You're filling in the information when soft fingers thread through your own, catching you off guard.

You look at her but her head it faced down to the paper in front of her as her right hand scribbles in information, continuing as if her hand isn't entwined with yours. It unnerves you that you aren't unnerved about her hand being in yours, that it feels as if the pale hand is meant to be there. But you force yourself not to look into it, and don't comment on the fire that comes from her hands through yours and up your arm.

The next two hours are spent just like that, with her hand in yours lying idle in the middle of the tabletop. When the bell rings you untangle your hand gently, gathering your stuff and leaving towards your next class without a glace back. You can't allow yourself to glance back really. Your next class is art, you don't tell anybody but art is one of your favorite escapes 'cause you can let your feelings bleed into whatever it is you're doing.

The bell rings and it's time for lunch to begin. Tina's sitting with a group of people and seems to be enjoying herself. It makes you feel good that's she's happy but you know it's not really your place among her and those people so you grab a sandwich-to-go and find purchase under a tree outside. Within the next ten minutes your eyelids are closed as your ears absorb the rustling of leaves around you. The grass nearby begins to crunch and as seconds pass the noise gradually becomes louder before stopping to the right. It's a funny thing; how a body craves something so much it knows when what it wants is around. So when another hand tangles once again with yours, this time away from others, you don't bother to open your eyes because you already know who's there. And it feels good, really good.

"You still don't talk a lot I see. But I think I could trust you, one day, "she says. You don't move wondering if she'll continue or if she even meant to say it out loud in the first place. ", and, I think you could trust me too," another pause, then some shuffling and you can feel her eyes boring into the side of your head. So you peek an eye open at her, and perhaps she wasn't expecting it, perhaps she thought you were asleep because her gaze suddenly flickers to the ground in faux interest, and study her features.

You tug at her hand gently to get her attention and you can see as she hesitantly looks back to you. "One day, perhaps." And you see something pass, relief maybe, and she nods and flashes a smile you've never seen yet. It could sure cancers, and end wars in seconds, and you want to do everything to see it again. One day.

A/N: hey there. so if you know my other story Plight I'm kinda in a jam with it at the moment and really didn't like the way i originally wrote so I'm still trying to figure out what to do with that nonsense. but yeah. this was typically an introductory chapter of sorts going into Santana's background. its pretty much the groundwork of the story.

Uhhh. i don't know. i mean if you guys don't like this or in a weird case do like it let me know and i'll continue if not it'll just be a weird oneshot of friendship fluff stuff. any questions feel free to ask, i'm interested an have more free time schooling just about out *praise*

oh and thanks for taking your time to read it in the first place

A/N 2: things you dont need to read readers; Disclaimer yada-yada i don't own a really hot fictional blond with hazel green eyes but if i did we'd probably have hot tan hazel eyed babies but sorry, no cute babies here.

all mistakes are mine because beta seems confusing and im only so good at writing bite me.

-H.G.