Santana thinks highly of Finn.
This is a secret because Santana doesn't think highly of anyone, let alone tall, life-sized versions of teddy bears. She doesn't think highly of Puck because he's just a casual thing, a fuck when she's bored or when he's whining over Quinn, and she doesn't think highly of the dad who left her or the mom who doesn't care. She might think highly of Brittany but that's far gone now, too far.
So she thinks highly of Finn, because it must be nice to be so innocent, so without knowledge. She thinks highly of him because no one else does.
But it bothers her, too.
So she sets out to corrupt him and she finally does. She tells the school that she rocked his world one night when she was bored and wanted to assert dominance over someone. It starts gradually, a few whispered rumors in the hall, Finn gets clapped on the back by Karofsky and he doesn't know why. She watches.
So finally Rachel knows, and everyone knows, and the Glee club gives her looks of shame and disgust, and the football players look at her the same way they always have, and the rest of the school doesn't bat an eye because that's what she does.
It's Finn who's reputation is totally sky-rocketed. She doesn't think it really matters to him, now that Rachel's gone.
He comes to her when it's over.
"I hate you." She wanted him to. She wanted him to hate her because that's how you corrupt someone. You get them to know what it's like to hate you. And he does, and she gets what she wanted. She always does.
She licks her lips and lays back on the sheets with the look of someone who doesn't really give a fuck. He watches her. She's always watched him.
"So?" She smiles at him. "I don't care if you hate me."
She does. Just a little, just enough. That's why she went through all this trouble, right?
She can practically feel the hate on him, like streams of red, currents of heat and anger just rippling off of him in waves.
"But I'm going to kiss you." His voice is a whisper. Hate, hate, hate. Hate and sex. Such a fine line, Santana's always found.
She lets him. Stupid, really. He's so stupid she wants to laugh, throw her head back and laugh, laugh, laugh. He's stupid because he lets her win. But maybe that's the best part. She always likes to win, and no one has ever let her.
She scratches welts into his back with her fingernails and claws at his arms until they bleed, and she bruises his skin with kisses and bitemarks until he looks just as dirty as she always feels.
And he does.