Hello reader !

English is not my first language. If you see any type of mistake or a strange formulation in this story, please let me know.

I want to hear any comment you have about my writing, good or bad. Yeah, don't forget about the bad ones. I want to progress.

AU Brittana. Three-shot. Written for the Brittana Fandom Winter Fic Fall.

Rating : T

Unbetaed

GREEN AND RED

PART I : Talk to me

When she first moved to the city, the idea of taking the subway to work twice a day had appalled her. After all, she was from a little town in Ohio where she could go everywhere she needed to with her bike, and the thought alone of having to memorize the subway map was giving her a headache. But the trip from the tiny studio apartment she shared in Manhattan to the place she went to work was far too long for her to use her bike and she didn't have the means to buy a car. So for now, the subway was the only viable solution.

The morning of her first day at work, the subway train had been as crowded as she had expected it to be on a Monday at rush hour. She still managed to survive the ride : being tall served her well at last ; she had been able to breathe the air above the other travelers' heads.

The trip was considered a success when she finally saw the name of her station outside the window and managed to get out without being trampled by the horde of entering passengers.

After this, the walk in the frisky March air from the station to the dance studio had felt like a stroll in Heaven.

After a couple of weeks of twice daily subway trips, even though she still wasn't used to it, Brittany had developed a strategy – The Great Strategy Of Survival, as she liked to call it (only in her head, because people studied her with a weird look when she tried to explain out loud her understanding of the subway world).

Rule number one : wait for exiting passengers to get out before coming in – or you will probably end up like Simba's dad in the Lion King.

Rule number two : don't sit – or be especially careful when sitting. An empty seat in a crowded subway car can only mean one thing : something gross is on it. After sitting on some used gum on Wednesday night, Brittany decided that trying to keep standing during the ride could possibly help her develop her balance, which was always useful for a dancer.

Rule number three – and the most important one : don't try to talk to people, even if it is to ask about their day. Even if someone looks sad, don't try and ask them what's wrong. It may seem like you all speak English, but they will probably look at you like you're insane and speaking some foreign language. Humming along to someone else's loud music isn't recommended either.

Now that she had understood some of the unspoken rules of the subway, Brittany wasn't as nervous about the rides as she had been on her first day of work.

It was a Thursday when she first saw her. For once, the subway car wasn't crowded, because it was in the middle of the day and rush hour wouldn't begin before another hour or two. Thursdays were the only day of the week when Brittany didn't have to work on the afternoon.

She chose the car in the front of the train. She had noticed it was the closest one from the stairs she used to exit the station, and had made a habit of always riding in that one. Not that it saved her that much time, but she liked having some kind of pattern. It helped her not getting lost.

The train being quite empty, she didn't have any trouble finding a seat – after, of course, checking for any trace of gum on it. She pulled out her purple headset and searched her phone for some music. She didn't have a lot of soft songs on it, because she usually listened to music when coming home from work on the evenings, and soft songs combined to a long day of dancing resulted in a very, very sleepy Brittany. That was why she only put catchy, energetic songs on her phone, and she often almost missed her stop as it was.

Lost in the music, Brittany watched the other passengers enter and exit the car. Watching people had always been one of her go-to pastimes, but she had learned the hard way that New Yorkers didn't like to be stared at. Maybe it was like that saying which said not to 'look into a dog's eyes' because the dog will think you're challenging it ? She didn't mean to challenge people. Perhaps this was something she needed to add to her subway strategy, even though it wasn't true in the subway only. Rule number three : don't talk to people, don't stare at people.

While she was lost in her thoughts, her eyes settled on one of the entering passengers. Brittany could only see the person's back. It was a woman, with long, straight black hair. Or maybe a man with long hair ? No, definitely a woman. A man wouldn't have that kind of clothes. Or that kind of legs…

The woman turned and her eyes immediately found Brittany's. Hugh. She had hardly decided to amend her rule number three and she had already been caught staring at someone. She diverted her gaze quickly, hoping the woman didn't understand that she had been stared at for a while already.

During the ten minutes she had left to ride before her stop, Brittany couldn't help peeking at the dark-haired woman. At first she only wanted to make sure she hadn't challenged her by mistake or made her mad in any way, but after a few glances which went unnoticed by their target, she relaxed once more and took in the sight. The woman wasn't looking her way anymore, but Brittany had caught a glimpse of her dark eyes earlier. She had the time to observe toffee skin and manicured hands before the woman changed her stance slightly, and Brittany promptly diverted her gaze once again.

The woman was good-looking. Okay, let's be honest here. She was hot. Her hair was shiny and her stance elegant, in sort of an 'I am hot and I know it' way. She wore a light blue shirt and tight jeans. With a wide hat and a pair of leather boots, she would totally look like a cowboy. Well, a cowgirl. Not the slutty kind of cowgirl though. God, did she really have to think about that ? Now she had to find a way to get rid of the sexy pictures playing in her head.

If it wasn't for her third subway rule, maybe Brittany would have tried to talk to her. In her home town, she wouldn't have hesitated this long before talking to a pretty girl. But then again, there was no subway in Lima, and she wasn't afraid of crossing the path of potentially aggressive people. Her friend and roommate Quinn had warned her enough times to discourage her from trying small talk.

She saw the woman a few more times, every now and then locking eyes with her for a split second, but was never bold enough to go talk to her.

At the dance studio, work became more interesting week after week, but also more demanding. Brittany gave two or three dance classes a day, four when she had to take over one of her colleagues' classes. Dancing had always been her passion, what she felt she was made for. She love helping young boys and girls to escape the world by dancing. Of course, on days when she had to teach four classes, it was exhausting. But she was used to dance many hours in a row since a long time, and she believed that being tired sometimes was a low price for doing what you loved every day, never mind being paid for it.

Brittany didn't have a lot of friends in the city, except for Quinn, but some co-workers were as close to friends as you can become in only one month. Time with Mike, who sometimes taught classes with her and whom she shared most of her lunch breaks with, was what made the day less monotonous.

After a quick lunch with Mike, his girlfriend Tina and a couple of other co-workers, Brittany left work to go home. Even though it was a Thursday, which meant she got to go home early, she was exhausted. She had taught no less than five classes the day before, and two more in the morning. She really needed a lazy afternoon and a good night of sleep if she wanted have enough energy to end the week on a positive note on Friday.

With the opening notes of some Queen song in her ears, Brittany leaned against the quivering wall of the subway car and looked out the window at the passing buildings. She was so tired.

She blinked once… twice, to try and wake her eyes.

What was this song ? It totally wasn't Queen anymore. She didn't even remember putting this on her phone. Wait, was it night already ? Everything was dark. Suddenly, Brittany realized her eyes were tightly closed. Did she fall asleep ?

A movement right next to her made her jump. Something had just brushed against her arm. Was someone trying to steal her bag ? She opened her eyes in alarm and, blindsided by the light in the car, had to wait a second for them to focus on the person next to her. It was the dark-haired, dark-eyed woman she remembered seeing from time to time. She couldn't be trying to steal her bag, right ? She didn't look like someone who would try to. Then again, did pickpockets look like anything out of the ordinary ? Probably not. Pretty Stranger opened her mouth to say something.

"You're my headband, wrapped tight around my melon…"

Crap, she still had her headset on. And she was listening to a song about a headband. She blushed, before realizing she was the only one who could hear it anyway.

"Sorry, uh, I didn't… headband – I mean, headset," she said. Oh God, what was happening to her mouth ? "What did you say ?"

The brunette smiled. She had a lovely smile. And lovely lips. And –

"I said I was sorry for waking you up. I didn't mean to," she said. "Just wanted to sit."

"Okay. Sorry," Brittany said, but she didn't even know what exactly she was apologizing for, so she settled on inspecting her lap, trying to hide her embarrassment. Was she supposed to make small talk ? She indeed wanted to talk to the woman, but she wasn't good at small talk, and she knew it. Plus, she just had embarrassed herself by freaking out when the woman had sat next to her, before asking her to repeat her apology. Maybe she just shouldn't acknowledge her ? Her subway rule number three pretty clearly said not to talk to people. But after all, she wasn't the one who had engaged a conversation.

A glance outside the window cut short her internal struggle. This was her stop.

"Shoot," she exclaimed while picking up her bag in a hurry. She was already so flustered she didn't even bother to dwell on the fact that she had just cursed out loud without any apparent reason. If the woman didn't already think she was a ditz, she most certainly would now.

In her hurry to exit the train, she didn't think twice about turning to the woman still sitting and blurting, probably a little too loud, "See ya !"

Once on the sidewalk outside the subway station, relieved that she had been able to exit the train on such short notice, Brittany could begin to breathe again. Her nervousness was replaced by a kind of giddy excitement at the thought of those pretty lips smiling at her. It wasn't until she had almost arrived at her building that she remembered the way she had left, and the words she had said to the brunette. 'See ya' ? Really, Brittany ? First of all, she didn't even know if she would see the woman again. Second, she was quite sure you don't need to say goodbye to someone if the only exchange between you was 'Sorry' and 'What ?' and 'Sorry' again. Well, 'goodbye' would have been fine. But 'see ya' ? Brittany wanted to kick herself.

As it turned out, maybe 'See ya' hadn't been that much of a mistake. Barely a week after this awkward first 'conversation', she saw her again.

A couple of stations after entering the train herself and sitting in an empty corner, she recognized the person who was making her way in the car as Pretty Stranger herself. Even with the lingering shame of their last encounter, Brittany couldn't tear her gaze away until the woman got close enough to her that she couldn't anymore look at her without straining her neck.

The brunette immediately sat in front of her. Had she seen her ? Did she sit here because of her ? Should Brittany make the first step and engage a conversation ? Wait, no – she probably hadn't even seen who she had sit in front of. Perhaps she didn't even remember who Brittany was ? That would be terrible, Brittany thought, before remembering how awkward their encounter had been and admitting that maybe it wasn't the worst thing ever if Pretty Stranger didn't remember her.

But after straightening her skirt on her lap, the woman raised her head and, making quick eye contact with Brittany, shot her a tight-lipped smile. Brittany was so surprised it took her a few seconds to think about smiling back. Fortunately, her neighbor hadn't stopped watching her yet, so her answering smile didn't go unnoticed. Well, she had probably seen her then. This brought Brittany back to her first questioning : now that they had acknowledged each other, was she supposed to say something ?

"Nice shirt," the woman said. Well, that solved the problem : she didn't have to decide anymore whether or not she should engage a conversation.

Brittany glanced down at her outfit. The top she was wearing had a watermelon on it and it was one of her favorite shirts to wear after work, because it made her feel relaxed and comfortable. But she wasn't sure if the woman was genuine or if she was making fun of her.

"Watermelon is my favorite," she said, in an attempt to defend herself. "It's, like – perfect. And it's so pretty. I love watermelon." Realizing she probably wasn't making any sense to her interlocutor, she tried to explain better. "I mean, food can't ever let me down, and I actually need it to live. So yeah, that's the definition of real love, I think. Love is like a watermelon, it can be hard and dark-green but it's always passion-red in the middle."

She watched her ramble with wide eyes. Brittany felt her cheeks begin to redden and mirrored the woman's facial expression. Great, just great. If she didn't learn soon to control her word vomit, she was going to scare for life anyone passing her way. She didn't even thank her for her compliment.

She saw the hint of a smile appear on the brunette's face, but instead of laughing at her she said, "Someone who genuinely thinks love is a watermelon can't be all bad, I guess," and sent her a wink.

The wink drew Brittany's attention to the woman's eyes. Like she had already noticed, they were dark. Now that she was close enough to actually look at them, she could see that they weren't black but a deep brown. The woman didn't wear a lot of makeup. The dull light of the subway made her eyes shine, and Brittany could only imagine how bright they would look outside, enlightened by the spring sun.

Even though she wasn't smiling with her mouth, Brittany could see her eyes were sparkling. That could only mean it was a real smile, right ?

Before she had time to think about it, her brain, still astonished by the brunette's wink, sent directions to her mouth. "Your eyes are smiling. I like it."

"Uh, okay," the woman answered. "Thanks, I guess."

And she stood up. Oh God, that was the beginning of the end, wasn't it ? She was starting to make people run away from her.

"That's my stop. See ya, watermelon lover," the woman said with a polite smile before exiting the train.

Still sitting stiffly in her seat, Brittany had to breathe for a minute before feeling like moving again. She picked up her phone from her back pocket and scrolled through her contacts to find Quinn's number.

'quinnie, pls tell me the truth. am i socially challenged?'

The answer arrived only a few seconds later.

'Not in my opinion. What's going on ?'

'i just told a stranger tht watermelons were the definition of love. and then tht i liked her smiling eyes. whats happening to my brain?'

'SHE HOT?'

Brittany frowned. That was totally not coming from Quinn. It was probably Noah, her boyfriend, who liked to 'borrow' Quinn's phone at random moments. But how did this have anything to do with smiles and watermelons ? She shrugged. Any explanation Quinn or Noah might have, she was ready to listen to.

'hi noah. shes pretty, yeah. why?'

The answer didn't come right away this time. Brittany assumed Quinn was trying to get her phone back. Or maybe Noah just had a lot to say about hot ladies.

'Don't mind Noah. You're totally normal. She's pretty : you tell her the first thing you think about. Probably watermelons, from what I understood. Then she smiles, she's still pretty : you tell her the first thing in your head again. That's normal, Britt. You like her, don't you ?'

Brittany bit her bottom lip. If Quinn could read that much in a four texts exchange, Pretty Stranger had probably got it, too. Dodging the question, Brittany sent :

'ur sayin i was obvious?'

Her phone didn't take more than a few seconds to buzz with Quinn's answer.

'Well yeah. But I'm sure the girl will think it's cute.'

"Oh my God," Brittany muttered.

Even after enduring an entire evening of jokes from a teasing Quinn, who tried to make her say the name of her 'crush' – which she didn't even know, by the way – and after telling her she was going to bed early to make up for all the sleep she lost during the week, she couldn't stop playing Pretty Stranger's wink in her head over and over again.

Going to bed early sort of lost all of its purpose, in that dark eyes appeared in front of her eyelids every time she closed her eyes, shining on her from their location in between long curtains of black hair, keeping her away from sleep until late into the night.

After the watermelon-related incident, Brittany had promised herself she wouldn't create such a disaster next time. That is, if she ever saw Pretty Stranger again.

But in spite of this resolution, Brittany didn't see the brunette the next day. She was a little disappointed that she couldn't try and make up for her word vomit, but after all, she didn't remember ever seeing Pretty Stranger on a Friday morning. Or on any morning for that matter.

Work on Fridays was quite slow compared with the rest of the week. She only had one class in the morning and one in the afternoon. She usually spent her long lunch break chatting with Tina at the reception or, once in a while, assisting Mike. While she was most of the time teaching to young children, Mike took care of bigger kids and adults' classes.

When she passed the door of the hall, Tina was busy helping a woman make some little girl's – most certainly her daughter – application. Brittany smiled at the kid, before sitting on a chair behind the counter. She began playing Tetris on her phone while waiting for Tina to deal with the application.

Like any other time she didn't have anything to busy herself with, her thoughts got back to the woman from the subway. She couldn't help but feel like she was supposed to be a bit crazy for taking a liking so quickly to someone she had scarcely had one conversation with. But the woman was truly gorgeous, considerate enough to compliment Brittany on a silly shirt and she hadn't laughed at her when she had ruined the conversation by talking about watermelons.

"Hey, Britt, where did you go ?" Tina asked with an amused smile.

Brittany knew most of her co-workers had noticed how easily she spaced out, but Tina was one of the few who didn't try to make her feel bad about it.

"Hi Tina, I'm sorry, I was uh – thinking about subway... stuff," she answered. She wasn't particularly fond of the idea of telling Tina about Pretty Stranger, but she didn't want to lie either. Glancing around, she noticed the two clients were gone and they were alone in the room.

"Subway stuff ?" Tina parroted, looking skeptical. "Why think about subway stuff during lunch break ?"

Tina seemed authentically curious, so Brittany said, "Just thinking about someone I met in the subway yesterday."

"Oh, really ? Like met met ?" Tina inquired with a grin, looking more and more delighted.

By now Brittany was resigned to tell everything to Tina, but at the last moment she remembered that the girl was known for her incapacity at keeping things for herself. "Listen, Tina, I do want to tell you, but I really don't want everyone here to know about it, you know ?"

She pouted. "Please tell me. I won't tell."

"Okay. So there's this pretty woman I've seen a couple times when I was taking the subway after classes," she began to explain and, upon noticing that Tina was about to interrupt her and not wanting to have to say it all again, finished her sentence all in one breath. "Yesterday she sat in front of me, and I started telling her really stupid stuff about fruits and smiles, and I think I made her run away, and Quinn thinks it's because I like her."

Her heart was beating hard from the lack of oxygen. She felt a blush creeping on her cheeks and scolded herself for being so embarrassed over nothing. Why was talking about a stranger such a big deal ?

Tina's smile was taking up a whole half of her face. "Looks like you're crushing hard here, Britt !" Then she added in a reassuring voice, "Anyway, I don't think you could ever make someone run away. You're way too friendly for that." After a second, her eyes went wide. "Wait, does your pretty stranger like girls ?"

Brittany choked on her own saliva. How did Tina know she had been calling the woman from the subway Pretty Stranger in her head ?

"She's not my Pretty Stranger, unfortunately," she muttered. "And I don't know if she likes girls. I don't even know her name."

"Oh, wow, okay. Find out then," Tina said. Brittany would have liked it to be this easy. But you don't just jump on people and ask them if they like girls, do you ? She didn't think there was a smooth way to do it. Whatever the case, Brittany felt like she needed to get to know someone before asking for their orientation. After all, maybe the woman from the subway wasn't even that likeable. Maybe she was a jerk and Brittany wouldn't even want to know if she liked girls after finding out more about her.

Tina must have sensed Brittany's confused reaction, because she clarified, "Her name, I mean. Find out her name."

Oh, okay. "How ?"

"Dunno. Maybe just ask her for it," Tina said in a teasing voice.

Two guys entered the building, and Brittany let Tina go back to her work. However, this time she didn't feel like going to Mike's classroom. Her mind was too busy to work some more hours just after she had finished her own class.

She went back to the room, now deserted by the kids, where she had taught her morning class, and danced alone to the loud music of the speakers. She needed a plan to find out Pretty Stranger's name and, if possible, get to know her some more.

Now that Brittany was actually expecting to see her, the dark-haired woman wasn't anywhere to be seen during any of Brittany's rides back home. She wasn't there on Monday nor on Tuesday. Maybe she had only been a tourist and she had left the city already ? Or maybe Tina had been wrong last Friday, and Pretty Stranger was actually repelled by her ?

It wasn't until Thursday that the woman finally made an appearance in the front car of the train. Immensely relieved to see her even though she knew she was overreacting, Brittany grinned broadly in her direction. Pretty Stranger must have seen her ; she smiled back and took a seat, one again in front of her.

She was wearing a deep red V-neck shirt, and Brittany had some trouble keeping her gaze focused on the woman's eyes.

"Hey," she said, still with a large smile on. She was determined not to say anything stupid this time.

"Hi," the women answered. Brittany noticed the smile from earlier was tugging on her lips, like it wanted to make a comeback. "What's up ?"

Brittany was amazed. The woman had just engaged the conversation. That meant she did want to talk to her. Even after listening to all that weird stuff Brittany said last time, she still came back for more.

Pretty Stranger must have misinterpreted Brittany's silence, because she added in a self-conscious tone, "Sorry, that was a really unoriginal way to start the conversation." She continued after a glance at her lap, "Let's start this over. Hi. I see you're not wearing watermelons shirts anymore. What's with the ducks ?"

Why was she always wearing that kind of clothes when she met Pretty Stranger ? She sure did love her ducks shirt, but why didn't she wear that sexy white top today ? Why the ducks shirt ? If she had chosen the sexy top, the woman could have asked "What's with the sexy top ?" That would have been so much better.

"They my favorites, too. I'm, uh – not gonna explain." Brittany internally congratulated herself for not making a fool of herself explaining that ducks where fluffy and funny and sweet.

"Okay," she said. "Ducks are pretty cool."

Brittany smiled. Reminded of the fact that she wanted to know more about Pretty Stranger, she wondered what she should ask first. Her name straightaway ? No, that sounded kinda blunt. Although she did want to know.

Realizing she hadn't said anything for a while and worrying that Pretty Stranger was going to understand it as a sign it was the end of the conversation, Brittany blurted, "What's your favorite color ?"

This was an okay question. She could have said worse ; she knew it from experience.

"Uh – red. And black, I guess. If you view black as a color."

"Oh, really ? I like red and black too," she answered, enthusiastic. It wasn't a lie, she pretty much liked all the colors. Her gaze was lost in the woman's eyes and her smile seemed to never want to leave her lips.

"You like black ?" the woman said, looking skeptically at Brittany. She could understand that. As far as she could remember, she had never wore anything dark on a day when she had saw her.

"I totally do. I felt so bad for the black color when I thought about how all the other colors were someone's favorite, and black probably wasn't, because people think it's too sad and not a real color. So I decided I liked it."

"Yeah ?"

"Yeah. And I like red, too, because it looks totally good on you." Brittany said, glancing at the woman's shirt.

Pretty Stranger laughed. She had a fruity laugh, which made her shoulders shake against the seat back and resonated through Brittany's entire being. "Well thank you. Can I tell you something…?"

At the pause the woman made, Brittany understood she was asking for her name. She grinned. "Brittany."

"Can I tell you something, Brittany ?" She nodded but the woman sounded like she wasn't in fact waiting for an answer. "I like how you think. No one had ever told me that love was like a watermelon. It's poetic and accurate."

"You really think that ?"

"Of course I do. I don't just go complimenting random people in the subway, you know."

"Oh yeah ? I think you kinda do," Brittany teased. "You told me I had a nice shirt the other day."

"Fine, I do," Pretty Stranger chuckled again.

"I have to get off at the next stop," Brittany said, trying to keep the sting of disappointment from showing on her face. She had not seen the woman for a week after the watermelon thing, and she feared she would disappear once more. "Will I see you again ?"

"Of course you'll see me again," she smiled, amused. "We're kinda friends, right ?" Brittany nodded, delighted. "I've been in the same train as you every Thursday for almost two months. Why would I stop now ?"

Oh God. Was this true ? Every Thursday ? Brittany felt silly. She went two months without noticing that she only saw the woman on Thursdays.

"So you didn't stop taking the subway for a week because of what I said then ?" she mumbled.

"Why would I do that ?" Then she added, "Come on now, you're gonna miss your stop. See you next week, Brittany."

A new wink from the woman and Brittany's brain was completely messed up once again.

She didn't realize she still didn't know the woman's name until she was out the station and it was too late to ask for it.

The next Thursday, Brittany left the studio without having lunch with Mike. She needed the extra time to go on an errand and still happen to be in the same train as Pretty Stranger.

She didn't even have time to make two steps inside the floral shop before the owner began assaulting her.

"Hi. I need to buy a flower," she said.

The petite florist looked at her like if she wanted to say 'well, duh'. But instead she asked, "For what occasion ?"

"Hum, it's for a friend." Pretty Stranger had said they were friends, right ? Right.

"A special friend ?" the woman asked, and Brittany didn't like how she stressed the word 'special' in that shrill voice of hers. What did that even mean ? "Alright, what kind of flower are you looking for ?"

She began reciting a list of every flower that could be bought in the shop, and soon Brittany was lost. She didn't know a quarter of those names. And a flower was supposed to be appreciated by looking at it, not by hearing its name, right ?

"I like roses," she said, hoping the florist would stop talking so much.

"Fantastic. Roses. They're basic and everyone knows the meanings of the colors."

Brittany frowned. What meanings ?

"Red, a red rose," she said. "Please."

"Red ? But didn't you just say it was not for a special friend ?" Brittany didn't remember telling her this, and was about to say just that, but the woman kept talking. "White roses mean pure and peaceful feelings. I don't think you should go with that for a friend. But you can keep it in mind for your wedding. I can make you a loyalty card. To go back to your purchase, I can assure you yellow roses, however, stand for friendships and warm feelings. What do you think ? A yellow rose is perfect, I think. Why only one, anyway ? I can make you a bouquet of yellow roses. It really lightens a room."

"No, it has to be red. A single red rose, please," Brittany tried to interrupt. Pretty Stranger had said her favorite colors were red and black. She didn't think a black rose was easy to find, so it had to be red.

"But red roses are a symbol of deep, strong, passionate love ! Surely this is not what you want this flower to convey ? I, for one –"

"I don't really care," Brittany said. If the woman tried one more time to convince her, she was going to be late at the subway station. And this would mean buying the flower in the first place was for nothing. "One red rose, please."

"Okay, if you're sure." The brunette heaved an obnoxious sigh, and finally picked a rose from behind her, put a piece of golden stars-covered paper around it and asked Brittany for the payment.

Brittany went back outside, closing behind her the door imprinted with the shop's name, Rachel's Berry, in golden letters. She promised herself never to go back in there again, her hand clutching the rose.

Now she was in a hurry.

Brittany ran the last few meters in the station and had to press herself against someone to enter the train. There was plenty of room inside the car, but like every day, there were always some people to insist on standing in front of the door, preventing anyone to enter or exit without some struggle. It was frustrating.

In her precipitation, Brittany stepped on some guy's foot and, her balance lost, tried to keep standing by grasping his arm.

"Sor–"

"Watch it, Blondie !" he barked in a rough, gravelly voice. Although he was neatly smaller than her, he was sort of intimidating. This was certainly due to his slit-like eyes, glaring at her from under his furrowed eyebrows. His thick black goatee did nothing to dull the effect. He withdrew his hirsute arm sharply and pushed her off him. "Are you stupid, or what ?"

Brittany bit her lip and stared at the ground. Somehow, this insult was of the ones she has heard the most directed at her, and it made her feel looked down at.

She took a step backwards, but the train started up at the same time and she lost her balance again. Only this time, someone caught her right away, preventing her from stumbling back into the hostile guy. Warm arms helped her standing until she found something to hang on to. Turning to her rescuer, she saw it was Pretty Stranger. Brittany smiled at her, but she wasn't looking her way. She was glaring at the guy who had called her stupid and it looked like her eyes were throwing daggers at him. She was like a Medusa of modern times.

"You say anything to her again asshole, just one more thing, and I swear you're gonna hurt so bad tomorrow morning you'll have to crawl to get out of the bin I'm gonna put you in."

He shot her a nasty look but didn't say anything.

"Good," she told him.

Then she removed her arms from their position around Brittany's body and the warmth she had felt just a second ago instantly disappeared. She pulled Brittany by the arm to the middle of the car, where there were empty seats and no mean people.

"Thanks. I'm a klutz," she said, not looking at her because she was a little embarrassed she couldn't defend herself back there. But she was sort of used to it, and it didn't affect her that much anymore.

"You're welcome. Don't listen to that jerk. He probably takes it out on people because his face is too ugly for him to get laid," she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Brittany laughed weakly. She was still a little shaken.

"I'm serious, Brittany. From what I've seen until now, you're quite smart. It was not okay for him to tell you that."

But really, it was okay. She'd rather have people saying stuff about her without knowing her than them getting to know her and still say it after that. People who judge are just that – judgmental. But friends who judge are people who know you and don't think you deserve to be known. They're the ones who saw you for real, when you trusted them and opened up to them, and didn't like what they saw. That's worse than having strangers talk behind your back or calling you stupid in the subway. So yes, it was okay. Plus, Brittany was used to deal with these things. But her pretty friend had been so sweet, protecting her and all, she didn't want to tell her that.

So instead, she looked her in the eye and said again, "Thank you."

The woman smiled, but her dark eyes still had a worried shade.

"Listen, do you want to get out of here ? Have some coffee, maybe ?" she asked. "I remember there's a Starbucks near the next station. We could go there." Brittany was surprised. Was she asking her on, like, a date ? Or was this just a friendly way to cheer her up ? Probably noticing the hesitation in Brittany's eyes, she instantly tried to backtrack. "If you want to, that is. You don't have to. I just thought it's still fairly early, so – I don't know…"

"Yeah, okay," she interrupted, happy the woman was bold enough to make the first step. Brittany wasn't shy, but she often felt confused and she worried a lot that people would not understand her.

She picked up her bag and got ready to follow her friend outside the station.

Brittany made her way to a free table and sat in front of her hot chocolate, Pretty Stranger following close behind her.

After sitting next to her and taking a sip of her latte, she asked, pointing to Brittany's hand, "What's this ?"

Glancing at her hands on her lap, Brittany remembered the reason she was in a hurry in the first place. Still in her hand, the flower was a bit rumpled from the death grip Brittany had had on it. The paper with the stars was starting to fall on its own, so Brittany tore it away and made a ball of crumpled paper from it.

"It was for you," she said.

"Really ?" the woman asked, sounding surprised by the gesture. "It was ? And what, it's not anymore ?" she added, teasing.

"No, I mean yes. Uh, it's still for you." Brittany extended her arm to give her the rose. "You said red was your favorite color," she added, feeling an explanation was needed.

Pretty Stranger's eyes softened. "That's so sweet," she said. "Thank you so much. It's beautiful."

"You're welcome."

When she took the rose from her, her fingers brushed lightly against Brittany's hand. She felt goose bumps wash over her. Glancing at her arm, she saw all the hair on it standing up. Why didn't the hair on her head stand up like this, too ? It would look so funny – and maybe a little weird, too. She tried to imagine how Pretty Stranger's hair would look like if they were standing up and giggled.

"What ?" the woman asked, her wide smile revealing some teeth. "Do I have something on my face ?"

"No, you don't. You're just very funny in my head right now, is all."

Brittany almost wanted to go back to the floral shop to brag about how the red rose didn't make Pretty Stranger freak out.

"So, tell me," the woman said in that smoky voice Brittany had become almost used to by now. "What do you expect from me in exchange for this ?"

Brittany could tell she was joking, but she answered without hesitation. "Your name," she said, adding "Please" after a second of thinking.

"Santana."

Oh wow, that was a beautiful name. "It's beautiful." Now she didn't have to call her Pretty Stranger in her head anymore, the real thing was so much better. "Hello Santana," she said, testing the name on her lips. "I'm Brittany, it's nice to meet you."

She laughed. "I already know you're Brittany."

"Yeah, but now we're even."

"We are," she said with a grin.