Drunk

                                    

                                          
I skip English that day. 
                          
I can't handle seeing her act all normal like nothing ever happened. Like we didn't kiss. Like we never had that discussion. I can't handle seeing her be a teacher. 
                          
I don't go home after school. I need to clear my head. 
                          
I just walk. The breeze is cool against my skin. It reminds me of her hands, cold yet comforting. 
                          
I shake my head. 
                          
Stop thinking about her. 
                          
The leaves are changing. The snow had made most of the leaves freeze, but now they're slowly growing to life again, with colors of red and orange. 
                          
Brittany's shirt had been red today, and it looked good on her. 
                          
Fuck. Stop thinking about her. 
                          
A little girl is riding her tricylce in circles, giggling as she does so. 
                          
She kind of looks like a younger version of Brittany. 
                          
I want to punch myself in the face. 
                          
Everything reminds me of her. 
                          
I close my eyes and keep walking. 
                          
One thing leads to another, and I find myself at some dive bar, beer in hand. 
                          
"She wants me," I say to the bartender, who doesn't really care about my problems but is hoping I'll tip him. He wipes down the bar as I talk. "She wants me so bad. She just needs to embrace it," I say. I chug the rest of my beer and wave it to show the bartender I want another one. 
                          
"Do you think I'm hot?" I ask the bartender as he hands me my new beer. 
                          
"I have a girlfriend," he says, turning to walk away. 
                          
"Yeah, and I'm a lesbian, just answer the damn question!" I shout. 
                          
"Sure, you're hot," he says. 
                          
"See? I'm a hot piece of ass and she knows it. She totally wants me!" 
                          
I guzzle down five more beers in less than ten minutes. 
                          
I feel my buzz intensifying. I wish I could handle alcohol better. It always makes me really giddy so quickly. 
                          
"Hey, do you think a loser like me would ever be able to snag a hot, caring teacher?" I ask the bartender. He sighs.
                          
"You want to know what I think? I think I'm sick of hearing about it. Just call her!" He walks off the go help a new customer. 
                          
He's right. I shouldn't just sit here and wonder about the what ifs. I need to just make them happen. 
                          
I pull out my phone and dial her number. 
                          
She picks up after two rings. 
                          
"Hello?" she asks. I don't say anything, suddenly all words just choking in my throat. "Santana?" 
                          
"I'm a hot piece of ass," I slur. 
                          
"Are you drunk?" Brittany asks. I giggle. 
                          
"Oh Brittany, you're so smart. No wonder you're a teacher," I giggle out. 
                          
"Seriously Santana, how much have you had to drink?" 
                          
"Oh, only one or two or maybe seven beers. No big deal! I'm totally fine! Never been better, actually!" 
                          
My head is spinning and moving my mouth to form words takes all my effort. 
                          
"Where are you?" Brittany asks. 
                          
"Some bar with really ugly gray walls," I say. "And it smells like feet in here. There's a lot of overweight biker men, and they all look really mean," I whisper, laughing at myself. 
                          
"I'm coming to get you." 
                          
*********
                          
It doesn't take her long to get there. She barges through the doors, looking around for me. 
                          
"Over here!" I yell, waving  my arms like an idiot. I nearly fall off the barstool, but she runs over and catches me just in time. 
                          
Brittany balances me on my feet. She keeps one arm around my waist, as I'm wobbly and woozy. 
                          
"I think we need to get out of here," she says. 
                          
"But I was just getting to know the bartender!" I squeal, leaning backwards. Brittany uses both hands to keep me upright. 
                          
"No, it's time to go," she says. She pulls a fifty out of her pocket and lays it on the bar and then leads me out the door. 
                          
The sun has just set below the trees, and the darkness confuses me. 
                          
"I can't see anyfing!" I slur, leaning on Brittany as we walk. 
                          
"Ok, just follow my lead." 
                          
She's cute trying to help me. She's not mad at me for getting drunk, she just leads me to her car. She sits me in the passengers' seat and helps me put on my seatbelt. 
                          
"Brittany? Can I call you Britt Britt? That makes you sound like a popstar!" I giggle. 
                          
"Just lean back and try to sleep," she soothes. She holds my hand as she drives, and I close my eyes, comforted. 
                          
We pull into her apartment complex. I'm half asleep and can't even make my legs stand up.
                          
"Hold on," she says, smiling at me. She picks me up bridal style and proceeds in walking me to the elevator. I'm amazed at how easily she can lift me. 
                          
When we get into her apartment, she leads me to the couch, where she lets me go. 
                          
"I'm gonna text your mom that you're staying at Quinn's house," she says, taking my phone out of my pocket. I nod, my eyes half closed. "Ok, you can sleep here for the night," she says, lying me back onto the cushions. I yawn. "If you need anything, I'm just a room away." 
                          
She starts walking away and I sit up. 
                          
"Why can't I just sleep with you?" I ask, the alcohol still choosin my words. 
                          
"I don't think that's a very good idea," she says. 
                          
"Come on, pllleeeeaaassseee?" I whine like a little kid. Brittany playfully rolls her eyes and smiles. 
                          
"I guess I can't say no to that, come on." 
                          
I smile and jump up, leaping to her bedroom. I climb under the purple covers and close my eyes. I hear her climb in next to me. 
                          
She leans over and presses a kiss against my cheek. 
                          
"Sleep tight," she whispers.