A/N: After doing a couple one-shots, I thought I'd try my hand at a multi-chapter fic. So let me know what you think!
"Rach! Did you want to take these wine glasses with you?"
"Britt, I don't think I'll be hosting any wine parties in my first week after moving to LA. And putting glasses in my carry-on would be asking for it."
Brittany sets the glass back into the cupboard and turns around to face her roommate.
"Fine, maybe I'll throw a huge party celebrating you finally getting out of my hair."
"Har, har, Britt. You know you're going to miss me so much. Hence why you just couldn't wait to join me in sunny SoCal."
"Well, someone has to drive all of your stuff out to you. And you know I'm the only one sweet enough to do it." As Brittany continues to sort out which utensils and kitchen gadgets belong to when there is a knock on the door. "Come in!"
"Shhhh! Brittany, what did I tell you about that? You don't know who that could be! It could be a serial killer!"
"It's just Quinn. She said she was stopping over to say goodbye," Britt replies.
The door swings open as Quinn enters carrying 2 boxes of pizza and a case of Sam Adams.
"Oh. But still…if we're going to continue living together in Los Angeles, a new city for both of us, at least keep the door locked."
"Hey Quinn!" Britt walks through the kitchen and grabs the boxes from her friend's hand. "Lighten up, Rach. Or don't. Maybe you're neurosis will help you land a role in the next Wes Craven film."
"So girls, this is it," says Quinn. "One last night for us three to get shitfaced in NYC!"
"This pizza isn't vegan is it? It doesn't look vegan. I can only-"
"Don't blow a gasket, Rachel. I got from the place you mentioned the last time I attempted an impromptu pizza party."
Brittany gets out some paper plates and a bottle opener, and the three sit down in the empty living room surrounded by cardboard boxes.
"I'm really going to miss this place," says Brittany wistfully.
"I, for one, am not. I am through with struggling to land a starring role on Broadway. They obviously cannot appreciate my talents. A fresh start in LA is just what I need."
"I know, Rach. I just meant this apartment. Sure, it was the price of a small country, but we had a lot of fun here.
"So when do you leave, Britt?" aks Quinn as she downs her first beer.
"I just need to finish packing the rest of our stuff up, and then I've got two more days of work at the bar. So I should be heading out Monday morning. I'm just worried about driving all that way alone."
"How about one of those ride-shares?" Rachel responds.
"A ride-what now?"
"You know, on Craig's List? You just say where you plan on driving to, and other people who want to go to the same place can respond to you. That way you can split gas money and share each other's company."
"You mean you're not giving me gas money, Rachel? Money to haul all of your trophies, Playbills, posters, stacks of gold star stickers…"
"Yes, of course, Britt. I just meant to split your half."
"I would give it a shot, Britt. Who knows, maybe you can find someone cute to be in a car with for a week straight."
Brittany's face reddens with embarrassment. "I'm not looking for a new boyfriend."
"It's been what? A year, Britt? Just keep an open mind about it."
"But what if this potential person is a serial-killer, Rach?"
"Is that sarcasm I detect? Regardless, I can have my dad run an extensive background check to ensure your complete safety."
"Alright, I'll give it a shot. But first, ladies, we need to start off our New York Farewell extravaganza right." Britt raises her bottle as the others follow. "To NYC, you kicked our asses every day. I can't wait to leave your urine filled streets and crowded subway stations filled with homeless people who want to eat my hair, but I will miss you. To New York!"
"New York!" Chime in Rachel and Quinn.
Two hours later, the pizza boxes are empty and beer bottles litter the coffee table. Rachel is twirling in the corner by the window, humming to herself. Quinn is sitting on the floor against the wall, with Britt's head in her lap.
"I'm really going to miss you guys," Quinn says as she is on the verge of drunken tears. "I wish I could go with you, but I can't!"
Britt reaches her hand up to pat Quinn on the head. "It's okay, Quinnie, we know. Puck is a good guy and he'll be super famous one day and you'll get married and have babies and it'll be awesome."
Rachel stops twirling long enough to pipe in, "Totally, Quinn. I'm jealous of what you two have. It's beautiful. Maybe Britt and I can find two hot guys in LA. Two hot actor guys! Not too successful that they wouldn't give us the time of day though. But just on the verge of stardom! And then we can double date and be double famous and double wedding and double families and double awesome!"
Brittany sits up from Quinn's lap and feels uneasy at Rachel's mention of finding guys to date. It had been almost a year since her last relationship with a guy. It was when she starting coming to terms with the fact that maybe she wasn't as straight as she thought. Her boyfriend's advances had become more and more annoying. She thought maybe it was just that they weren't a good fit, but at the same time she started noticing women more. She shoved those thoughts deep into her mind and tried to forget them. After breaking up with Chad, she put all her time and effort into dance. Eventually she became a teacher at her dance studio, which then led to a job offer in Los Angeles as a choreographer for a production company specializing in music videos.
"You okay, Britt?"
"Huh? Yea, what?" she stands up and starts cleaning up the living room.
"You just looked bothered. Are you sad too?" drunk Quinn replies.
Britt puts on a smile, "Yea, I'm just going to miss you too, Quinn." She pulls her to her feet and gives her a hug. "I think I'm going to head to bed. You can crash here if you want. Although there's not much to sleep on." She looks around the empty room. "How about a couple unfolded cardboard boxes? They seem to work for Larry around the corner."
"You can take the mattress on the floor in my room, Quinn."
"Sweet, thanks. Goodnight, Britt. Don't be sad!"
Britt starts getting ready for bed. In her room sits a lonely double mattress, her laptop, and clothes strewn about the floor. As she slips on a pair of boy shorts and a pink tank top, she looks over to her computer. She pulls up Craig's List and looks to see if anybody has already put up a listing for NYC to LA. "New York to Miami….New York to Cleveland….Cleveland to Lima…..hmm nothing. Okay then, here goes. 'Looking for someone to share my car with me across country. NYC to LA, leaving Monday morning. Must split gas, pay for own hotel room when we make stops. Oh and must not be a serial killer. Call me at 212-555-4367.' That sounds good. Send."
She shuts her laptop, plugs her phone into the charger, and heads to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Two minutes and good flossing later, Brittany opens the door to her bedroom and hears her phone ringing. Swiping the screen, she answers. "Hello?"
"Is this the NY to LA ride-share person?"
"That was fast, and yes! My name is Brittany. You're not a serial killer, right?"
The person on the other line laughs. "No, I'm not."
"You've got a nice laugh and a nice voice."
"Thank you, Brittany. So Monday morning huh?"
"Yea, I was thinking around 9am? And I plan on stopping only a couple times along the way, so we would take turns driving at night."
"That's cool with me. I don't have much money anyways, so I couldn't afford to stop at a motel every night."
"How much stuff will you be bringing with you? I don't have much room in my rental SUV, and the U-Haul trailer will be full."
"Oh, I just have a backpack and a guitar."
"That's all? What are you heading to LA for?"
"I'm moving out there."
"With just a backpack?"
"Yea, well, I don't have many belongings and I like to travel light anyways. So what do you say, Brittany?"
"I think you sound nice and I trust that you're not a serial killer."
"Haha, that's good to hear. So I'll call you Sunday night, and we can plan where to meet."
"Perfect. Oh, I didn't catch your name!"
"Well, I look forward to sharing a ride with you, Santana. Goodnight!"
Smiling to herself she puts the new contact into her phone, deletes her post on Craig's List, and lies face down on her floor; regretting having taken her bed apart ahead of time.