Chapter Text
The freezing rain that’s pounding the top of your G-Wagon is a very accurate depiction of where you are in life. You never thought you’d be back in Ohio, but an incredible temporary job offer and your personal life going to shambles were enough for you to book it out of New York.
You pull into the parking lot of your best friend Puck’s car and sprint inside, trying to avoid ruining your hair. Since it was the last time you would visit your hair stylist for the foreseeable future, he did a particularly fantastic job, and it would be a shame to ruin that and an even bigger shame to destroy your brand-new hair extensions. You make a mental note to buy an umbrella ASAP.
For a Monday night, it’s surprisingly busy, but you manage to grab a prime seat at the bar. You start to wonder where Puck is but are quickly brought back into reality when the bartender asks you what you would like.
The brunette is not your usual type, preferring blondes, but you’re horny in Ohio, so any cute girl you meet will do. Flashing your signature Lopez cocky smirk, you say, “Can I have you? I mean you look like the best thing in this bar by a long shot.”
Completely taken aback by your forwardness, she blushes, but when she opens her mouth to respond, your moment together is quickly interrupted.
Seemingly out of nowhere, your best friend Puck wraps his arm around your shoulder. “Lopez, my bartenders are not on the menu, and if they were, there’s no way my girl, Marley, would fall for that lame-ass line!”
He tries to tousle your hair, but you successfully shield yourself from his ridiculously large hands with your quick reflexes. “Jesus, Puck, watch the hair!”
Laughing, he pulls you in for a bear hug. “I missed you, lesbro!”
You gladly accept his hug telling him you have missed him too. Besides for your weekly Xbox Live games, you both have done a pretty crappy job at actually keeping in touch.
When you pull back from the hug, you notice a still speechless the bartender staring at you both in confusion about what’s happening. Puck opens the side entrance and stands behind the bar. “Marley, will you bring out another box of the Michelobs, please?”
She walks away, and you stare at him incredulously. “Seriously, Puck? Michelob?”
He asks tauntingly, “What, are you too good for a Michelob Ultra now?”
“Puck, pretty much everybody above the age of 22, is too good for Michelob. You may be the exception to that, though.”
He throws the bar rag at you and grabs a glass, knowing you may say no to a Michelob but never to a Jack and Coke.
He makes himself a Jack and Coke, handing you your drink, and holds up his glass to make a toast. “Here’s to the lesbros fucking up Lima, Ohio together again!”
You bang your glass on the bar and take a long swig, realizing it’s more of a jack with a splash of coke instead of a plain jack and coke. Then, shocked by the taste, you start choking.
“Geez, Lopez, maybe you aren’t too good for Michelob either.”
Dramatically rolling your eyes, you wipe your mouth and grow a low “shut the fuck up Puckerman.”
He gives the ridiculous giggle that he seems to make just when he’s with you, and you cannot help but join in. Of course, he’s an idiot, but he’s still your lesbro.
You make small talk as you finish your drinks, agreeing to catch up later this week. He makes you another Jack and Coke, this time with more Coke and less Jack but informs you he has to return to being a bar owner. You say your goodbyes in case you don’t see him again before you leave.
Sipping your drink, you begin to feel proud at how far you and Puck have come since high school. For much of that time, you both worried neither of you would amount to much of anything, but now, Puck owns a bar , and you basically run Lopez Enterprises. In fact, your success is a big reason why you came back; the dean of the business school at Ohio State invited you to serve as a visiting professor during the spring semester for a couple of their graduate and Ph.D. classes. Because you only teach on Tuesdays and Thursdays, you can maintain your duties as COO.
When you finally pull yourself out of your thoughts, you look up at the perfect moment. Exiting the ladies' room, you find the most beautiful woman you have ever seen, but you would probably go so far as to say she’s the most beautiful woman in the world. Her golden hair flows with luscious curls, and her bone structure is impeccable. Her pink dress hugs every one of her curves perfectly while still leaving so much to the imagination.
This is the girl I’m taking home tonight, you think to yourself.
Waving Marley down, you ask her for a glass of whatever the mystery girl is having. The vodka soda with a splash of cranberry tells you she can’t be older than 22, but you don’t mind. In addition to having a thing for blondes, you also have a hunch for younger girls. You’re no cradle robber, but after your only serious relationship, you love being a bit of a cougar at the ripe age of 28.
You stroll to the table she’s sitting at by herself, and she looks up at you, which is when you see her enchanting hazel eyes. You always thought that phrase “the eye is the window to the soul” was complete bullshit until you saw those emerald pools highlighted by light brown and gold flecks. You almost get lost in them but are soon interrupted by their owner.
“Can I help you with something?” It is no shock to you, but her voice is the most angelic thing you’ve ever heard. You start to wonder what that raspy yet soft voice sounds like while she’s moaning, but you quickly remind yourself that you must get your shit together if you want to find out.
Flashing that signature Lopez smile once again, you make yourself comfortable in the seat across from her. “Yeah, I wondered why a beautiful girl like you is sitting here alone.”
She sips her almost-gone drink, looking at you like she’s thinking about what to say. “Well, I’m not sitting here alone now, am I?” She gives you a smug smirk as she leans back in her seat.
“Touché, pretty lady, touché” You mimic her smirk and the way she’s sitting. She’s a feisty one, and it’s starting to make you want her more.
“Pretty lady?”
You throw your hands up in defeat. “I didn’t know your name, so I had to improvise.” God, you’re good, Lopez, you think to yourself.
“I’m Quinn; it’s nice to meet you.” She extends her hand across the table for you to shake, and you immediately feel sparks when you take her hand in yours. Then, appreciating her soft skin, you realize you have been shaking her hand for a little too long and haven’t said a word.
You clear your throat. “A beautiful name for a beautiful girl, eh?" When she blushes, you start to think that you’re getting her right where you want her.
“I wish I could say the same for you, but you have yet to tell me your name.” She bites her lip, and you wonder what else she bites.
“It’s Santana.”
Gesturing at the drink, she asks if it’s for her, and you nod, passing it to her. She takes a sip before stopping right before it reaches her mouth. “You know, I don’t think you’re supposed to take drinks from strangers.”
“Strangers? I just introduced myself to you.” She has a point, but it’s pretty obvious she’s still trying to play hard to get.
“The only thing I know about you is your name, so who’s to say you didn’t put something in this?” She points to her drink.
You lick your lips, trying to come up with a quick response. You lean across the table and dramatically look to your left and then to your right, like you don’t want anyone to hear a juicy secret. In a low voice, you say, “It’s not as fun to force a girl into letting me fuck her. I’d rather her beg for it.”
She nods, seeming to process the information, but it’s pretty obvious she’s trying to hide her shock at your boldness. Meanwhile, you sit back in your seat, crossing your arms, and proudly smirk. However, what happens next is the last thing you thought would happen.
She gets up from her seat, purse in tow, and bends down to whisper something in your ear. “You’re going to have to do better than that, Santana; I like to be wooed.” Then, she leaves you high and dry with a kiss on the cheek. Granted, it’s the best kiss on the cheek you’ve ever received, but it’s not at all what you want.
You sit at the table for the rest of the night, going over every part of that interaction countless times because this is the first time you’ve ever been turned down. Despite this crush to your ego, it only makes you want her more. You want her to be yours, not just for a one-night pump-and-dump.
———
The following Saturday
Walking into the McKinley High gymnasium is giving you major flashbacks. It’s the first time you’ve returned to this place since you graduated ten years ago, and it looks like you left it. Of course, everyone is different, but it’s still the same place you got the winning basket at the basketball state championship your senior year. It’s also the same place you and your high school sweetheart Brittany were crowned the school’s first same-sex Prom King and Queen a few months after the game. You can’t believe Puck got you to come back, but you go when your basically-adopted little brother Jake Puckerman is the school’s basketball star during his senior year.
You haven’t gotten the mysterious blonde out of your head. You wonder who she is, where she is, and what’s her story. No chick has ever had the balls to reject the big, bad Santana Lopez like that, and you’re still left dumbfounded.
At the first quarter change, you head to the concession stand to grab popcorn and drinks for you and Puck. Cursing at how high the concession stand prices are, you head back to the gym. But as you walk in, you spot the owner of a familiar pair of hazel eyes staring at you as she steps out. It’s only when you notice that she’s wearing her Cheerios uniform that it fully registers what’s happening, and in the shock of it all, you drop everything you just bought.