She's Out of My League

by omACAgee

Beca Mitchell works as a bartender with her best friend, Stacie Conrad in Gainesville, Florida. At best, she is an average Jane, mixing drinks as she makes enough money to pursue her dreams of becoming a music producer. She meets the prime example of the perfect woman one night at the bar and thanks to her lack of confidence, it starts to get in the way of a potential relationship.

1. Part One

Twoshot Bechloe/Staubrey piece that I never ended up finishing and honestly, I don't know why, because it was so much fun to write! Updating will for sure start to become less frequent, thanks to softball season and college starting back up this week. So, I wanted to give you guys a little something extra before I suck at updating :)

Also. I didn't know what to rate this because even though there's no smut, there's heavy talk in alcohol and language is pretty mature. SO, I went with my gut...and you've been warned just now if any of those trigger you.

I hope you guys enjoy it! Follow me on Tumblr (OmACAgee) for updates and all that jazz, or to just talk :)

(I DO NOT OWN PITCH PERFECT NOR THE SONGS MENTIONED)

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She's Out of My League: Part One

Beca Mitchell isn't much of a somebody, to say the least.

She lived an ordinary childhood; she was an only child living with her mom and dad in the northeastern most state on the US map, Maine, Portland to be exact, where the only good thing to come out of the state other than the jagged, rocky coastline would be a local seafood cuisine restaurant that served thee best lobster on the planet, as well as the mighty moose you'd encounter more often than not (which was as exciting as the place got).

She participated in the normal life that a young child should be living; she went (was forced) into school and did all the boring school things that would cause her to get the occasional red star by her name, which meant she was naughty, probably not listening and involved in her own little conversations while the teacher talked about addition and wasn't a well behaved (teacher's pet) student like Emily Jones was, who always received the gold stars, because she kissed ass and ratted other students out because she believed that she was the absolute best of the best.

Cough, cough, bitch.

Eventually after lots of red stars, timeouts and show in tells where she would bring a bag of goldfish, call it it good and definitely not share with the other kids (especially mega dick, Emily) Beca made it pass the Hell hole they called elementary school and soon found out that Emily and all her bullshit she brought to the table was only child's play compared to what she experienced in the middle school hallways.

Here, she continued getting in trouble because dammit, she had a reputation to uphold and once she found out that sports and doing anything athletic wise was a big no in her book after she broke her nose playing softball when she took a ball to the face and bled to death, then broke her wrist playing soccer (which doesn't make any fucking sense at all because you LITERALLY USE YOUR FEET, hence why she stopped trying to play anything sporty) she figured that trips going to the principal's office was a lot easier than trips to the emergency room and getting scolded for hours was something she was surprisingly good at.

Though middle school was a less of an awful nightmare than what high school was for her, the one and only good thing that came out weekly trips to the principal's office where she'd call her dad, he'd come red in the face, yell the same "check yourself" speech at her that she could recite word for word and no doubt backwards if needed too was that she met her first, real friend on those benches sitting outside of principal Thomson's office, who was waiting to get lectured about how making boys give away their snacks at lunch for a kiss was not acceptable behavior.

Beca, however, thought it was hilarious.

After a stunt pulled off like that, that wonderful, borderline prostitute's-which was someone who Beca learned about later in her life-name was Stacie and they became friends instantly when Stacie helped her out with some math problems the next time they got in trouble and she soon found out that this busty beauty was a tiny genius and would be a great asset to keep her grades up to at least a C average. Also, Stacie was like this awkwardly tall and lengthy looking giraffe with huge boobs for a thirteen year old and someone that Beca surprisingly felt comfortable with and together they became inseparable.

Little did she know that once high school rolled around and a month spent a part during their sophomore year summer that Stacie would come back from her Bahamas cruise vacation with her parents and grow twenty sizes (both legs and cups) and look like she just spent the whole month of July at a Victoria's Secret photo shoot. Yeah, that was a hard one to explain to people when rolling up together though the high school hallways where they'd constantly ask what a hottie and total babe like Stacie was doing hanging out with an antisocial, sarcastic and grumpy little grinch like Beca.

But Stacie didn't care what people thought, or how they desperately tried to steer her in the right direction of the "popular" clique of high school stereotypes, which included a lot of cheerleaders, sport jocks and student council members rather than the "unpopular" clique, normally referred to as the weirdos, which Beca fell under, according to them.

And even though Stacie played volleyball which was considered a "popular" sport full of tall, "popular" bimbos at their school and Beca had to go to every. single. home game in the books to cheer on amazon legs, she labeled Beca and herself as best friends, who would grow old together, buy houses directly next to each other and if all else fails as far as significant others, they'd adopt a child and raise it together.

There were many reasons why Beca liked and connected with Stacie so much during their school years spent together. She was never really good at the whole friend thing and she even thought at times her relationship with Stacie would soon be doomed because she just wasn't good at expressing herself and sharing with others how she felt and wasn't really the sympathetic type of gal.

But slowly but surely, all that changed when that tall drink of water stumbled up into her life and forced the term communication and friendship out like a pimple.

Stacie was different; she was really funny with a great sense of humor and had good taste in music, which is a must quality for Beca Mitchell. She's also super smart and always pushed Beca in school to achieve good grades when all Beca wanted to do was rebel against her father for leaving her and her mom alone after finding a new woman named Sheila, who was and is the literal worst.

And even though Stacie transformed into the horniest human being on the face of this Earth once she experimented with the big three letter word, sex, Stacie never left Beca like her dad did and never once even thought about doing it.

As cheesy as it sounds, Stacie is her rock; she was the one to help coach Beca through her sexual confusion period when one day they were at a swim park and Stacie flaunting around in a bikini, showing off her golden skin, exposed cleavage and legs that ran for days made Beca feel the exact definition of some type of way.

And then those thoughts evolved into more descriptive thoughts about other females and it became one giant mess of confusing thoughts that made her very angry for a long period of her high school career.

She never felt attracted to Stacie because all the years spent together, she considered the girl part of the family, but she forsure felt something regarding lots of colorful thoughts towards the same sex gender that she didn't know what to do with. Stacie and her extreme level of attractiveness just helped her appreciation for girls (boobs) through it, because anyone with a pair of working eyes would agree that Stacie is the complete package of sexy, with her brains and smoking body.

And Stacie; a girl who dipped their toes in the lady pond at a high school party and actually also had the same confusing thoughts as she did, walked her through her acceptance and that it was normal to have these feelings for girls, even when it it felt like it wasn't.

One label happened after another once Stacie came out as bisexual to her parents and Beca finally admitted to herself and her mom that she was bisexual, as well, when she brought home her first girlfriend that, long story short, cheated on her which is a quick month story she'd rather not get into.

From there on out after Stacie received the title of valedictorian and Beca passed all her classes with a solid 3.0 average, as well as stayed out of trouble except for a few mishaps, their relationship got stronger by the day and they soon found themselves moving to Florida together to get a head start on their futures.

Which leads us to today where Stacie, going into her third year, is a full time student attending the University of Florida, with a full ride scholarship as she studies Biophysics and Chemistry and ruins her entire life while Beca went the way other route once they moved and has decided to focus on her music rather than school, like her father literally begged her to do.

But something about leaving and betraying her rang several bells inside her head and she refused to go to school because she felt like she didn't owe him anything. Not even a phone call to explain that she was moving down to Florida with her best friend to pursue her music career that he wasn't so fond of, claiming it was just a hobby and not a profession.

So that's that.

The whole spiel of the past and how they got to where they are today….Oh shoot!

Also something that hasn't been mentioned is that since Beca and Stacie have rented out a nice, cozy apartment in Gainesville, Florida and Stacie is a college student-which really needs no explanation by itself- making money somehow was a must. Luckily for them on the first week of scouting out jobs, a small, not too flashy bar called Blackbird Ordinary had openings for bartenders and after getting use to the gist of making all sorts of different drinks, they landed themselves two positions working mostly night shifts, which now leads to tonight, three years later as Beca makes her fifth, sex on the beach and a plate of kamikaze shots for a group of local college students on their night out away from the books.

Cutting up the lemons in halves that accompanies even more sourness to the shot, Beca delivers the plate to the group of students, places the orders on their tab and snickers amused under her breath while watching from the distance as this guy's face morphs and twists into a painful mess once the extreme sourness hits his tastebuds.

Shaking her head and wiping the spilt mess over the bar's table where no one was sitting at, she mutters a "amateur" under her breath and tosses the newly dirty rag into the sink behind her. "Blow out the burn buddy," she mutters some with, crossing her arms above her chest as she now watches a different guy wail and roar after swallowing the shot, clearly keeping the sour alcohol in his mouth a lot longer than he should've and most definitely doesn't blow out the burn.

She'd know, of course, after being a bartender for three years, people buying her drinks of all different kinds is a frequent thing and she needed to build a tolerance to all the shitty beverages handed her way, unless she'd never make it.

Stacie comes up around the corner, wearing the mandatory crew outfit; a black t-shirt with a white bird logo on the front and a pair of white jeans shorts to match and slides her body up close to Beca leaning on the counter. "We need to coyote ugly this place," she comments with a huff and Beca for a second thinks she's joking, but finds out soon when she turns to face the taller girl and sees Stacie scanning the ceiling, tables, and venue of the whole bar that's she's everything but joking.

Wouldn't be much of a shock if Stacie is planning on the best place to build a stripper pole.

Beca nudges her hip into Stacie's, shaking her head with a laugh before moving to the alcohol collection and places the unscrewed lids to their designated drink. "Okay, no. This is Florida, not Manhattan, and you'd be the only one who's sexy enough to entertain these drunken hooligans with today's pop karaoke while dancing on top of the tables."

Stacie scoffs out loud hearing this, whipping herself around to hop on top of the bar table to sit and cross her arms above her cross as she watches Beca organize the alcohol from behind. "We both would be the sexy barmaids who sing on top of tables and break up bar fights with our sexy bodies and melodic voices."

"Okay," Beca mocks incredulously. "Cause we have so many bar fights keeps this place locked up mad good and the vibe here is as harmless as a kitten."

Especially tonight as it's an easy, not too busy and mostly laid back kind of Thursday night that Beca lives for, except for the absence of tips she'd usually get on a busy, crowded bar, with a line out the doors of party animals on a Friday or Saturday night.

"Touche, but hear me out." Beca rolls her eyes before Stacie even has the chance to spill out anymore nonsense about her delusional vision that she has obviously mustered up inside her head because of an early 2000's movie. "Do you realize the size crowd we'd bring in if we were to toss out these baggy, hobo clothes for some tight leather and exposing tank tops, jump up on this table and spray each other with our beer guns?"

Beca finishes her task to organize all the alcohol and twists her body around to face a determined, deadpan Stacie who looks seconds away from bulldozing the entire lot and creating her own eastern, rock n roll style bar. First of all, she doesn't even know why Stacie is so set about this when Blackbird is a lowkey, chill and very modern bar that has a freaking DJ booth for crying out loud. At the very least, they have a few pool tables that'd meet the country style scene, but literally that's it.

"You by yourself brings in a shit ton of customers." Beca wiggles an accusing finger over Stacie's breast region. Even though they wear the most unappealing, casual t-shirts as dress code, Stacie and her goddess like facial structures, flirty personality and extremely tiny shorts that could pass as underwear show off every inch of skin and flexed muscle on her spider legs brings in about five times the amount of tips that Beca does, which is only a slight jab to her ego and self esteem, but no big deal.

Jesus, Beca can't even imagine the crowd they'd have if Stacie was allowed to show off her boobs, though it's only a matter of time before she works around something with this oversized t-shirt.

"But we could bring in more," Stacie legitimately whines this, with a childish stomp to her foot and even the eyeroll Beca is cooking up doesn't suffice for Stacie's level of dramatics.

"Yay, I love people. That's exactly what we need," Beca snorts sarcastically as she takes the new guy's order sitting down and continues, "why don't you run that by our boss, I'm sure he'd love to change the scene, turn our get up into promiscuous clothing and start a karaoke contest while we waste all our booze wetting each other with it." Beca throws the new guy at the bar an evil eye when his face is seen lighting up at the idea, instead of saying that she'll spit in his drink like she wanted to if he continued egging Stacie on.

With perfect timing and overhearing the conversation as he briefly walks by, Luke casually drops by a "not going to happen, Conrad," then continues along his way to avoid Stacie's begging pleas because he knows that's what was about to come spilling out her mouth the moment he shot down her fabulous idea.

Blending together a perfectly proportioned martini drink for her good ol' friend she just met, Beca slides the glass drink across the table to land directly in front of the guy without a single spill. When she receives a skeptical glance and a full examination of the drink, she assures to Paranoid Pat that it's indeed spit free.

Beca takes the mixer and walks her way over to Stacie, but ends up stopping short when she sees that Stacie happens to be engaged in her own conversation with a well known regular named Jake, who hands down has the biggest and most obvious crush on giraffe legs herself. Seeing Beca's presence appearing from over Stacie's shoulder, Jake curves a welcoming smile and lifts up his hand to wave.

Stacie, not able to turn around quick enough to see Beca twisting up a nearby wet rag into a rat tail to smack her with, yelps high pitched in pain when she feels the immediate burn in her left cheek when the whip snaps over her skin.

"Sup, Jake?" Beca says casually, as if she had no part participating in the act that caused Stacie to hiss at the newly formed, bright red mark on her skin just under her shorts. However, she does take pride in the end result at her perfectly manufactured rat tail.

Bring the inside of his cheek not to laugh at this,"oh nothing, just talking to Stacie about the Miami Heat's game Saturday night," Jake stretches a megawatt smile with his perfect set of teeth that truly shows how excited he is about the date he scored with Stacie after begging nonstop until she had to say yes.

Beca really didn't understand why it was such a hassle for Stacie to say yes to him; Jake is a good looking guy, with dirty blonde hair that lengths about medium wise, a pair of dark blue eyes and, like, perfectly smooth, bronze skin from being outside on the beach so much. He's even on the more muscular and toned side of choices to choose from that Stacie is notorious for being attracted too, not a lot, but definitely has more muscle than most guys. Maybe it was because if she were to wear heels on this so-called date, she'd definitely be taller than the boy.

Which is kind of the breaking point since Stacie came out of her mother's womb wearing heels and demanded a guy to be taller than her, unless it was a girl she was after. Something about it being cute hugging a smaller girl; it kind of makes her feel superior and tough. With a guy, she just feels even more freakishly tall than she already is.

"God, you're such a bitch sometimes," Stacie finally grumbles out, annoyed, as she tries to twist her head around far enough to take a look at the impressive size welt she's now sporting on her left asscheek.

Expertly ignoring Stacie as she leans her elbows up on the bar counter in front of Jake to continue their conversation, she scrunches her nose in disgust at the mention of basketball. "Ew, why are you going to a basketball game? I'd rather go on the cliche, 'I'm not really romantic, nor creative enough to think of something better' date than to sit and watch a bunch of sweaty dudes toss around a ball for a couple of hours."

Hating basketball comes off as an understatement to her. A word that does a better job at expressing her true feelings towards the sport would be despises it, maybe even loathes ranks high in her list of descriptions. Both equally good and does a great job at expressing her feelings towards any type of sport in general.

It's really nothing personal against the sport and no offence to anyone who loves to watch and play basketball, but for her, she doesn't see the point of it-all sports, that is and can barely stomach them. Music is more her style-more her thing to do and worship herself to. At least with making music there's nothing sweaty about it.

Except dancing.

But she wouldn't really know because that's a whole other conversation filled with a lot more brutal opinions that she just doesn't want, nor have the time to get into right this second.

Jake gives her a kind of puzzled expression that makes it seem like she has been talking in a foreign language this whole time and a little bit like she's a total crazy person who is losing their mind by the unpleasant knit in his brows. "Aren't you….aren't you going with us?"

"Um what?" Beca says this through a wary type of smile thing she has going on that resembles one a psycho maniac would make, clearly thinking that she must've misheard this dude because it seemed like he just asked her if she-her human form-would be joining him and Stacie on their dumb basketball date.

As far as she remembers, she never agreed to anything this impractical and if she had, she would drowned herself by now because just picturing herself at a basketball game makes her want to chug bleach.

"With Jesse...remember?"

No Jake, she does not remember because if she did, she wouldn't be this lost in the conversation as she currently is.

His eyes float over to Stacie; still just as confused as ever, still not really knowing what exactly is going on and if this is suppose to be some sort of inside joke, Beca definitely didn't receive the memo. As she follows Jake's eyes over to Stacie, she gets the briefest glimpse of Stacie motioning erratic slashes to her throat to shut Jake up, but not in time before Beca connects the dots and her jaw hangs slack at the audacity that Stacie would do this.

"Stacieeee," Beca whines, but gets shushed by Stacie's finger over her lips and gets pulled away from Jake by her wrist away and over to a secluded section of the bar where they're, for the most part, hidden. Not allowing her friend to explain what's going on, she does the honors summarizes it, "you agreed to a double date with one of his friends didn't you? And that double date includes me?"

Stacie's already apologizing with her eyes by this point and all Beca can do is roll her head up to the ceiling of the bar and groan out the most unattractive noise that is a mixture between a strangled moan and a dying cow because history is repeating itself, ladies and gents. Anytime Stacie doesn't want to go out on a date with someone, but there is the slightest possibility she might be into them if she were to go on this date, she always sets up a blind date for Beca in return with a brother, or a close friend, or even a cousin related to whomever it is she may be interested in for Beca to spend the entire night wanting to gouge out her eyeballs with spoons because her date brought out his baby picture collection.

True fucking story.

"Jesse's a nice guy!" Stacie defends while Beca keeps her attention facing the ceiling, because maybe if she prayed hard enough, it'd come crashing down on top of her so she wouldn't have to break it to Jake that she'd rather watch paint dry than go to a stupid game. "We met him once here when he gave you like a twenty dollar tip for making a shot of Patron! Patron, Beca! I can make that shit with my toes and in my sleep!"

This is very true; Beca remembers keenly of the impressive size tip because she spent it on Taco Bell that night and the following morning after to cure a raging hangover. However, she doesn't understand why Stacie assumed to think that this specific moment allowed her to set Beca up on a date with Mr. Prince Charming and his loads of cash.

"I'm gay, sorry. Wayyy into the vagina," is Beca's second, main excuse not to go when her eyes fall back to Stacie, who has a hopeful grin on her mouth while her eyes literally beg Beca to go. Her first main excuse is that she just didn't want to go.

"Bitch, we both know you're bisexual when you hooked up with your kind of boyfriend, kind of fuck buddy you met here in the back of his car!" Stacie doesn't miss a beat with this jab she just happened to puncture straight though Beca and all her words she had bubbling up in the back of her throat.

Beca scoffs, offended, mouth gaped wide open and probably catching flies-though this is another thing that is sadly true. His name was Dylan and he was the other bartender who worked here until he decided on leaving because the workplace made him feel "uncomfortable," but only because Beca told him straight up that she didn't want a relationship with him. Dylan was nice and all but was she girlfriend material for him?

Absolutely not.

So, what do you do when you don't want to break the kids heart who happened to fall in love with you the few months of hooking up? You push them away.

And that's what Beca did, but only to receive a wounded puppy expression on his face the entire shifts they worked together, which was a great example as to why she doesn't get close to people. God, it was painful.

"That's your excuse always when I set you up with a guy and sorry to break it to you, babe, but you can't choose when and when not you want to be a lesbian! It's not a fucking quarter-heads you're gay, tails you're straight!"

Having another valid point and not wanting to waste her breath on an argument she is sure not to win, Beca collapses her shoulders with a defeated sigh. "You didn't even ask me first."

"That's because you would've said no," Stacie replies and also relaxes her posture.

"And you didn't think I'd say no once Saturday rolls around and you tell me we are going somewhere normal that isn't a basketball game, but I soon figure out when we are parking in the arena that you lied to me?" Beca flails her hands up like a mad woman for added measures.

Stacie shrugs nonchalantly, "you'd already be in the car at the stadium, so at that point you'd have to go on the date."

"Oh my God," Beca murmurs, closing her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger.

Stacie sees this and decides to pull the last resort trigger as she begins falling to the ground, ready to get on both knees and beg like a dog in front of the few people who are in the bar surrounding their little feud.

Grabbing Stacie by the elbows before she makes an even bigger scene than she already has, "fine!" Beca hisses as she caves under Stacie's non verbal pleas and rolls her eyes at the elated, high pitch squeal of pure joy as soon as the word left her mouth. Not getting off scot free though, "you," she points a finger right between Stacie's eyes to make the taller girl go cross eyed, "owe me a six pack."

Bud light lime; the one way to win over Beca's heart.

"Deal!" Stacie smiles triples in size to the point where it looked uncomfortable and took the chance in close proximity to pull Beca into a tight "thank you" hug.

Swatting away the tree length in height her best friend carries as she gets smothered by Stacie's branches for arms, she stumbles away from the hug with a strangled huff, blowing the misplaced hair blanketing over her face and gives this conversation with Jake a redo, now that she got an understanding from the first party what exactly was going on.

"Hi! Yup, Saturday is a go!" Beca chirps in the most sickly, excited way, all in the hopes of not blowing her cover that she really didn't want to go on this stupid date. The amount of nauseating fakeness in her tone almost made her barf as she confirms her grand appearance for a highly, unanticipated basketball game to a equally excited, but more genuine looking Jake. "I can't wait," she mock gushes and is glad Jake doesn't know her well enough to tell she is being a giant, sarcastic dick when saying it.

Gulping down the rest of his drink, he slaps the money on the table, rearranges his jacket over his shoulders and blows out the burn from the alcohol. "Dope, I'll see you Saturday then?" he wheezes through a painful face and Beca almost mirrors it because of the teenage slang that literally no one uses anymore, especially if they were a twenty three year old.

God, she's going to kill Stacie.

He waves a friendly smile over to where Stacie is helping out another customer and exits the bar with his elation dripping from his pores the entire way out, leaving a trail of nastiness for Beca to look at and somehow attempt to get amped about her last minute planned date.

At least basketball games provide beer and with not really knowing Jesse all that well, it will definitely require lots of it if she plans on making it through the night in one, stable piece.

"Becky!" Luke calls out as he walks up to the table, tearing Beca away from her focus on washing some dishes. It's been three, blissful years with this British, handsome looking poster man and he has yet to figure out that her name is Beca, not Becky-though it's very, very close. That, or he's doing it on purpose because he can secretly see that calling her Becky bugs the shit out of her and it's already too late to correct him on it.

She has a feeling it's the second option...no one calls a person the wrong name for three years!

"Sup?" Beca pops the 'p,' tossing the same rag she smacked Stacie with over her shoulder.

"Next Friday I'm booking you for the night," he announces, writing it down on the calendar behind the bar with a big red "X" on the specific day and the name "Mitchell" underneath. Beca scans his face for any teasing; she's played her mixes before for Luke, but never had her own show, especially in front of a live audience. He then moves over to the computer that controls the LED board out front of the bar and does the exact same to show next week's headlights and she thinks she stops breathing around the time he writes a personal sticky note to himself that is a reminder to create posters to hang around the bar as well.

"Oh! You're serious?" she asks just to make sure that he isn't taunting her like a small little deer, just until she's close enough to shoot her down. By the looks of it; the calendar, the headliners outside and the soon to be made posters, he isn't riling her up for nothing.

"You make some sick beats, mate," he compliments with a half smirk when he sees Beca so flabbergasted about the unexpected, yet exciting news he just dropped on her. "Your mixes are much better than the awful, bloody music Mozart over here is playing."

"Yeah I do," Beca says, not caring if she sounded too cocky. She looks over to the table where Roger, one of the DJs is working, playing something from the early 2000's pop genre that is doing absolutely nothing for the people who do happen to be in sitting at the bar, couches and standing up playing pool. It's not busy compared to the weekend where it's shoulder to shoulder, but it's definitely busy enough to at least put the people in the mood to dance, or even to just have a good time.

Not make them fall asleep in their cocktail or basket of fries.

The locals who run the table on weekends are decent, but their transitions are weak, the beats are enough to get the people to dance, but not good enough to get them to dance all night long until the blisters on their feet are begging them to stop and tote can't hyped a crowd the proper way. Though she doesn't have the amount of experience they do, she knows a good track from a bad one and she- including Stacie, her mom and apparently Luke- believes her music could do the trick; it would be the perfect remedy for a kick ass night.

"Better get a head start on making a bangin' playlist, Becky, I have high expectations." Luke throws Beca a wink before heading to the back of the bar where his office and the kitchen is, leaving Beca alone to buzz with anticipation for next Friday night.

Hopefully by performing for a pretty decent size crowd, it will allow her music to get out and people will start noticing her more. It hasn't been easy trying to get her music out to records labels, or even where to start, but if her music got out to the public's eyes, even just a little bit, which is a lot more than now in comparison, she's praying that it will bring someone in at a higher ranking in to have a listen.

And if she's lucky, her name might even move to an eventual label where she could be signed, and then finally live her dream as a real music producer and just thinking about this fills her body to maximum capacity with anticipation for Friday night.

During her little alone time, girly moment to herself where all she needed was a pillow to scream in, Stacie blows through her lips a long, dragged out whistle when the front doors to the bar open and a literal angel-if Beca were to ever encounter one- walks right through and finds the nearest booth to sit in alone. "Hot babe, twelve o'clock," she signals Beca's attention towards their newly arrived guest, but it's just a waste of air because Beca is and has already been staring at the girl and is half certain that she hasn't even blinked since she walked in.

A harmonic, chorus choir plays a gentle melody inside Beca's head, muting out all other sounds in the bar as she is mesmerized by the girl with long, luscious, fiery red hair and a smile that is bright from even afar. The redhead is wearing a not too fancy, not too casual, navy blue cocktail dress as she slides down the charcoal grey coat from her shoulders and drops it next to her on the black, leather booth, giving an eyeful of her hourglass shape to Beca, who's stunned from behind the bar where she is gawking.

Technically, everyone in the bar this current second is no way ashamed that they are, as well, staring at this girl, so she doesn't really feel like that much of a creepier since the whole bar is experiencing the same world stopped revolving, time suddenly froze type of aroma.

Stacie's presence slides up next to her where it's a better view of the redhead, but she's way too fixated on this masterpiece of a woman who just walked into their bar, alone, and gave the venue a whole new meaning a light because she is the exact definition of sunlight.

"Are you seeing this?" Beca mutters her skepticism, not daring to remove her eyes away from the redhead who is now scanning the menu for something to eat with the slight chance in the back of her mind as she could be dreaming this whole thing right now and the redhead can vanish at any moment if removing her eyes from the prize.

"Oh yeah," Stacie drawls, her attention as well not leaving the redhead. "What a fucking hot tamale."

Beca blows out her own mouthful of air, agreeing to this completely. "I wonder what she's doing here at….nine at night all by herself on a Thursday." Glancing down at her watch, Beca checks the time. "She looks more like a fresh Friday, or sizzling Saturday night type of girl we'd see."

No way judging a book by its cover, of course, but most of their customers during the weekdays during school time aren't the "party hardy," dance all night long types of college students and more so are the older, yet still like to drink and have fun types of normals they usually get.

Although tonight is in fact a weekday and smack dab in the middle of January, which means school is still going on, this girl in no way shape or form fits the category of their usuals they'd get during this time and actually goes above and beyond the types of girls they'd get on even a Friday or Saturday night.

"Is she lost?" Stacie whispers over to Beca.

"Um, doesn't seem like it since she's looking pretty hard at our menu," Beca answers with a snort, only showing how elated she is about the fact that this redhead would be staying longer in her view for some much needed eye candy if she was planning on making it through her shift alive.

Another older regular compared to Jake, Tom, who is clearly intoxicated and clearly looking for some innocent young girl to harass walks up to where the redhead is sitting while minding her own business, slugging his heavy body over the opposite side of the booth and throws a creepy, half smirk her way that even makes Beca's skin crawl with the distance keeping them apart.

"Hey there pretty lady," Tom slurs and alerts the redhead, who instead of being weirded out about her surprise guest and taken back by the sudden pet name stretches a beaming smile when looking up from the menu and it's then Beca realizes she's one big, walking, talking ball of pure sunshine. "Whats a girl like you doing all by yourself at a bar?"

"Just treating myself to a little snack and a drink," the redhead replies, smile only doubling in size while saying this and it's the most beautiful sound Beca has ever had the honor of hearing in person, even if it was kind of muffled and she didn't catch it word for word.

Tom chuckles low and dark, ignoring every last thing Chloe just said. "Wanna get out of here?" And that once gleaming smile on the redhead's face disappears quicker than Beca could even blink and okay, she definitely heard what Tom just asked and is not going to sit back and watch him harass this poor girl any longer.

If anything, she is saving him from the embarrassing rejection destined to be thrown his way at any second because no matter how strong and good looking he thinks he is, this girl is way out of his league. Jesus, the girl is out of everybody's league who isn't a jaw dropping model of some sort, with amazing facial structures and killer abs.

Dropping everything in her hands, she ushers behind Stacie to push through the hip high, swinging door connected to the bartop and power walks over to where Tom and the redhead are talking, hoping she isn't too late before this drunken imbecile spills anymore painful nonsense from his mouth and scares this gorgeous specimen away when he orders her a slippery nipple, or blowjob shot that totally crosses the line of being considered a pervert.

"I'm starting quarterback for the Gators and have a truck outside with a backseat that's calling your name, sweetheart." Yep, she got there too late.

And the cry for help written over Chloe's face is screaming bloody murder at Beca to do something and save her from this mess.

Patting Tom's back and grabbing his arms to haul him out the doors, "okay Tommy boy, you've had way too much to drink, which is causing you to talk out of your ass right now and I'm totally sorry I didn't cut you off earlier." Beca snickers when she gets a tight half hug from Tom the inebriated giant, who has no boundaries of physical contact when he recognizes her voice.

Tom isn't the worse of the guys she has gotten to know while working at Blackbird. He is starting quarterback for the Gators, which was true, but he's also a lot smarter than he looks and has a somewhat charming side to him once you get pass his cocky ego. However, once he gets alcohol in his system he transforms from nice Tom to pervy Tom in the mere matter of seconds.

Stacie has the honors of experiencing this side a lot of times in the past.

"Hey you little-" An abrupt hiccup stops him mid sentence and Beca flinches away from under his hold because she honestly thought he is going to yack all over her. Luckily, he doesn't, and it was a onetime thing because once he got it out from his chest, he continued slurring, "hey you little….pipsqueak!"

Beca dodges away from his hands trying to pinch at her cheek and hears a sweet laugh come from the booth she's so desperately trying to keep this six foot man up against before he plummets her into the ground and when she follows the sound, her breath hitches until she literally thinks her respiratory system legitimately stopped working.

"Need any help?" The redhead asks amused at the scene, but also in genuine seriousness and all Beca can do is stand there paralyzed because holy blue, her fucking eyes! Like, is that even possible? The ocean isn't even that fucking blue, is this girl even human?

"I uh...umm," Beca stutters and forgets all of her twenty two years of learned English in a snap of the fingers, leaving her alone with broken up sounds and grunts, incoherent at her finest. Get your shit together, Mitchell.

She shakes herself out of whatever it is keeping her from speaking actual words and learns that looking at the redhead might be the reason she is speaking in tongue because of multiple things, like her cerulean blue eyes and her crest whitening strips teeth and just her whole freaking face that's literally perfect and so freaking unfair.

"I'm good," she finally manages out through a strangled squeak, now using every muscle in her lower half to hold up Tom's dead weight as he slowly fades in and out of consciousness. "He," she then gestures with her head to a lifeless Tom hanging over her like a drunk kola on a tree, "is not good. I'll be right back."

"I'll hold my breath," the redhead giggles; a real life, cartoon sounding giggle that erupts Beca's stomach with a zoo of butterflies to bounce around her ribcage to the point where she think she might be sick, as if she wasn't already stricken by the girl's attractiveness already.

Beca doesn't really know how to respond to this and the redhead's face is too distracting to figure something out. So, she pats Tom on the stomach and limps away before she ended up saying something she'd regret. She calls out for Luke and Bubba, Blackbird's security to take out Tom since they both are a lot taller than her and also, a lot stronger to hold up all his dead weight. Getting crushed tonight by a drunk guy isn't really on her wish list, so she is more than relieved to see Luke strutting his way up towards her to sweep in under Tom's armpit, replacing her form and carrying him outside, as if he had to do this quite frequently.

Which to be honest, he does. Sometimes people just don't know their limits.

Welcome to bartending, she guesses.

Apparently, one of Tom's sober buddies was busy getting his car that was parked by a nearby building and was planning on swinging by and grabbing Tom from inside the bar to bring him home safe, so waiting for a ride takes no time and before she knows it, she's walking her way back over to the booth where she is expecting to see a gorgeous redhead, but is only greeted by an empty booth. Huh, maybe Beca did hallucinate this angel of a girl and was talking to a ghost the entire time. Damn, that's depressing; now what is going to entertain her for the rest of her shift till midnight?

"Hey bartender!" Though there's no body to put for the sweet voice Beca is hearing, it's still present and still somewhere around the bar.

Scanning the perimeter, Beca's eyes land on Stacie behind the bar and joined with her on one of the bar stools is the redhead, waving Beca over with a warm smile a her bleach white set of teeth. Taking a few deep breaths because God knows she'll need if it she's planning on having an actual conversation with this chick, she heads over to the bar and slides through the swinging door, joining Stacie in the back by the alcohol.

"Nice of you to join us, Becs." Stacie flaunts Beca a warm welcoming smile. "Chloe and I were just discussing the best dishes to eat here and I was telling her it has to be the oysters, don't you agree?"

Keeping her nerves at bay, Beca sends Stacie a puzzled look; the bar didn't even carry oysters.

"Why? Because they're aphrodisiacs?" She snorts to Stacie standing at the other side of the bar, shaking her head "no" to Chloe, apparently, (such a perfect name for a perfect girl) and asks what the girl would like to drink. She also switches to entrepreneur mode and lists off Blackbird's most famous cocktails since that's what they're known for, just in case Chloe is looking for one of those try.

Declining the detailed lists of different concoctions of cocktails, "can I get a whiskey sour?"

Surprised by this, Beca starts plucking each supply necessary for the drink. "You like whiskey sours?"

"Oh totes! The exhilarating mixture of the sour and sweet taste you get, it's delicious!" Chloe confirms, smile glowing under the bar's lights and making it impossible to focus on the task at hand when mixing the drink. "Either those or Long Island ice teas."

Beca laughs, grabbing some pre cut lemons from a plate she put out earlier, as well as snagging the sugar from a cabinet. "Didn't feel like getting fucked up tonight?"

Chloe joins Beca's laughs, shaking her head. "Sadly, not tonight. I own my own a small dance studio down in Miami that I have to teach tomorrow."

This sparks Beca's interest when she takes into thought that Miami to Gainesville is four hours away from each other, maybe even more than that to be honest. Also, of course this God's creation is super successful and runs her own dance academy; she should've known better than to think Chloe wasn't a hard working, independent woman.

"Dance studio in Miami huh? What ages do you teach? And mainly, what are you doing all the way up here?" she inquires, pouring out the lemon juice to mix with the whiskey.

"Yeah! And juniors-mostly early age high schoolers and late middle school girls; they're my club team and we travel a bunch for competitions during the summer. I've been dancing all my life, so I didn't really know what to do with myself without dancing," Chloe informs and Beca can already tell Chloe is super passionate about her job, which isn't much of a shock that it makes her ten times more attractive-if that's even possible.

"And for your question as to what I'm doing up here, I'm just stopping by. My roommate loves this place and always wanted to take me here. She just hasn't gotten the chance to do so since she's always busy with school. I went to visit my parents in Tampa, so I figured since I was close enough, why not take a drive up to the bar I've heard so much good things about," Chloe explains through a smile and takes the expertly made whiskey sour from Beca's hands before she starts putting all the items away. "How much do I owe you?"

It's about now at this question when Beca experiences an inner battle between saying Chloe's drink is on the house, because she really wanted to buy the girl a drink anyways, but also the other reason is telling her not to say this because would buying a stranger a drink be considered flirting?

"You're good," Beca waves off the handed twenty, going with option A and mentally praying that it doesn't scare Chloe away if it does consider as flirting.

One thing Beca has already done-even though she'd jump at the chance if it was there for her to grab- was get it through to her head that hooking up with this girl is a firm negative and that she should even try, to be honest.

First of all, of course Beca thinks Chloe is a total babe and thee hottest girl she has ever seen and that's the straight up, "cross my heart" truth. But one, Chloe would never go for a girl like her; a young bartender who is barely making a living on selling perfectly executed alcohol drinks to a bunch of drunk people while she gets her music deal sorted out, and two, Chloe, as gorgeous as she is-is probably not even in the slightest bits gay.

Maybe the occasional experimental peck every now and then with a few close friends during college (if she goes or went to college) but that's about it.

It wouldn't even surprise Beca if Chloe had an equally attractive, hot bod boyfriend back at home in Miami, just waiting for her clad in an apron, with a plate of freshly baked cookies in his hand.

"Can I at least buy you a drink?" Chloe challenges with a raised brow, smile morphing into more of a smirk that does the same amount of damage as her normal smile to Beca and honestly, maybe even a little bit more. "What's your favorite drink?"

"Actually, it's a whiskey sour as well, which is why I was so surprised that you ordered one," Beca snickers at the similarity. "They aren't that popular around here."

Chloe nods her head listening, then slides the twenty dollar bill across the table over to Beca. "Then get me another one those." And Chloe hits Beca with an unexpected wink that makes her feel like she's experiencing early symptoms of cardiac arrest. "What kind of beer do you like? Blue moon and two orange slices?"

Beca is actually offended at this assumption from Chloe and she can't help but show it through her scoff that sneaks out under her breath. "You know, I was going to pay for your drink, but now I don't think I'm going to." Chloe howls a fully hearted laugh and for the briefest second, all other background noises mute out, making it seem like Beca is caught inside a fishbowl as she watches the muscles in Chloe's neck flex and bob up and down while the beautiful noise erupts out from her.

Chloe sobers, assuring Beca that she is just kidding and maybe will try shooting out a better guess other than Blue fucking Moon; a total bitch beer. "I'm thinking you're more of a bud light type of girl."

Now that's more like it.

"You'd be correct," Beca confirms with a small half smile, placing her hands firmly on the table in front of Chloe, feeling more and more comfortable around the girl by the second

"Get me two of those, as well." Deciding that a few drinks wouldn't hurt, plus the crowd for tonight doesn't seem to be overwhelming the table with drink orders, Beca nods her head, whipping out three individual glasses; two for the beers and the other for the whiskey sour.

After going through the process of creating the whiskey sour and using the beer gun to fill up both medium size glasses with minimal foam (she's an expert) Beca hands the other beer over to Chloe who has already put a pretty big dent into her whiskey sour and immediately takes the offered beer.

She would be lying if she said she isn't nervous about talking to the hottest girl she has ever been in an arm's reach radius of because in all honesty, her brain is pretty much going haywire to the point of frying itself just trying to think of words that would spark a friendly convo in the hopes of them not coming out too idiotic. Last thing she needs to do is embarrass herself in front of a pretty girl with a immaculate set of eyes and teeth.

But in all seriousness, who is this girl's dentist?

Jesus Christ himself?

Raising up the filled topped beer to eye level, Chloe does the same and Beca leans it in to clink glasses.

Here goes a night of lots of stuttering and jumbled up words and hoping for at least some liquid courage to help her out.

---

Perfect.

Chloe Beale is fucking perfect.

Beca has finally came to this conclusion after about a couple of hours talking to this girl about easy flowing conversations about Chloe's dance academy and Beca's past life in Maine with Stacie and although no one is considered perfect in life, or really even comes close to it, Chloe is the exact definition of the word and no one can tell her otherwise.

The conversations are normal; Chloe talks and seems like an ordinary, humble, made of entirely sunshine type of girl- though she's an anomaly from a different universe, Beca can admit that. It's actually very intimidating on a bunch of different levels, almost to the point where Beca has to bite her tongue to the point of breaking skin not to ask why a hot shot babe like Chloe is doing talking to a loser bartender at an average looking bar and is actually enjoying herself to stay and chat.

Just thinking about it doesn't seem possible and trust her, she's pinched herself many times throughout the couple hours unnoticeably under the table top, thinking that maybe she's dreaming this whole scenario, but all she gets when doing this is two nail indentations and a few red marks to glow over her skin.

But it's interesting getting to know someone else around town, even if Chloe happens to live in Miami. She has never been really good at making friends; Stacie doesn't count because she's just an outlier because they, surprisingly, had a lot of shit in common and Stacie kinda weaseled her way into Beca's personal bubble regardless if she was wanted or not.

As for Chloe, she learns, they have a lot more in common than she could've ever expected. Whether it is the drink choices, top played songs on their iPhone's music library, or what's their favorite junk food to snack on late at night, her and Chloe are practically soulmates.

Or in the words of the trend today on Tinder, they're basically a perfect match.

But Beca would never admit that out loud because she can barely even convince herself that her and Chloe enjoy a lot of the same things that it's almost scary. What she can convince herself though and has been the entire night of talking is that Chloe is like a matchless, out-of-this-world, robot designed from her own personal laboratory and is in all ways shapes and forms completely out of her league.

Beca's not one to admit on a cocky level that getting a girl's number she has some attraction towards is a hard task to achieve; she's done it lots of times working late night shifts at the bar and something about making a really good sex on the beach really turns the ladies on. But this whole scenario, Chloe and the slimmest chance of scoring the girl's number is non existent and was never there to begin with.

And she is so positive of this that she's tries insanely hard not to dwell on the painful heartache every time Chloe lights up with one of those skin chilling giggles that raises the hair on the back of her neck that she'll never win a shot with this gorgeous, gorgeous human being.

What she does focus on is that she's incredibly lucky to even be having a long lasting conversation with Chloe when it's clear that the rest of the bar and then some would kill to be in her position.

Which is enough gloating she needs for the time being.

Progressively throughout the night and a few more topped off beers to ease the conversations along, Blackbird became more and more busier with regulars just getting off of work, or the late night drinkers that could use the fix of a big, greasy burger, along with their handle of Coors light. The booths start to fill up and the dance floor proceeds to get busier by the second, which is always a fun time to witness drunk people trying to dance while they try not to stumble over.

Ha, Classic.

Once finished helping out a new customer that stumbled up to the bar and giving him a glass of water, along with a virgin pina colada when he asked for a alcoholic one because she could already see how intoxicated the man was the moment he came up to the bar and she doesn't need to be cleaning up puke when he throws it all up later on, Beca heads back over to Chloe where an intense game of Jenga is happening since the redhead found the bar's unusual game collection and demanded to play just so she could rub it in Beca's face when she wins.

Pretty and confident; two intriguing qualities go figure.

"Your turn, Mitchell," Chloe claps excitedly when seeing Beca's arrival. Only two beers and a whiskey sour down the hatch, but already the girl is on a another type of level that increases her friendliest and giggles even higher.

Beca eyes the tube of blocks suspiciously; the tower is on its last limb, so strategizing her next move is a must. Plucking the wrong block could collapse the whole thing down, granting Chloe all the teasing in the books and Beca is really drowned in her competitive nature, no thanks to her buzzing off the few drinks consumed, so losing isn't a valid option right now.

Settling on what looks like a sturdy block in the bottom left corner of the tower, she's crouched over and too fixated on the block she's slowly pulling out to catch Stacie marching up behind her before placing a firm smack on her butt that jolts her straight up at the stinging contact, causing her once steady hand to yank the block out with too much force and sends the tower tumbling down across the table.

"Mother fucking shit!" Beca curses at the scattered blocks along the table, all caused by her last move and shoots a nasty scowl at a laughing Stacie and Chloe who are exchanging a triumphing high five.

"Hi, I'm stealing Beca away for a second." Stacie ignores the weaponizing look Beca is burning into the side of her head and hooks her hand around Beca's bicep to politely pull her away from Chloe and their now finished game.

Being dragged over to the secluded part of the bar that they were already at earlier tonight, Beca puts her foot down the second they are far enough away from Chloe and barks a harsh, "bitch, you made me lose!" under her breath.

"Chloe's super into you." Bluntly, Stacie comes out saying this, once again ignoring everything that Beca has to say or offer, especially the blank, emotionless expression she receives once this assumption is out of her mouth.

Beca's first initial reaction once hearing this ridiculously insane nonsense is to laugh; a loud, hysterical laugh that causes several people in the bar to stare at her, questioning if she is alright, or if they should dial 911 while witnessing the early diagnosis of insanity. "You're funny," she manages to wheeze out after her laughing is calmed, using her thumb to vacuum up the single teardrop on her cheek she produced from laughing so hard.

Stacie's a lot of different things and has a ton of great qualities, but Beca never knew her best friend had the natural gift of being a damn comedian.

Talk about a hidden talent.

Stacie smacks Beca harsh in the shoulder. "I'm serious!" she hisses as a whisper when Beca rubs her newly injured spot on her arm. "Chloe has been totally giving you fuck me eyes the entire night."

"Definitely not, Einstein." Beca almost wants to laugh again at Stacie's delusional visions she's mustering up inside her head.

How would Stacie even know anyways? She was too busy playing pool with a local old guy the whole night and nowhere near her and Chloe to even claim this.

"Chloe is literally perfect-look that word up in the dictionary and her name would be right there next to it! Big and bold and….probably written in fancy cursive letters and the nicest type of ink that's been written with a feathered pen or something," she trails off winded, getting farther ahead of herself than originally intended.

"I know it's hard to process all this and trust me, I didn't believe it either when a hot babe like Chloe would ever be interested in you, a grumpy porcupine who wears too much eyeliner."

Even though Beca agrees with this statement and thinks it's a very valid point, it still stings hearing it out loud from a different person's mouth. She's the only one who could be her biggest critic.

Stacie's grabs Beca by the shoulders and turns her in the general direction to where Chloe is sitting patiently, sipping on her beer. "There's a lot of explanations on my theory about Chloe, for example, she bought you a drink-two, to be exact."

"She was just giving her thanks for getting Tom off her back earlier," Beca mumbles, eyes trained over Chloe's form and flinches when Stacie smacks her in the side of the head for interrupting.

"Second example, do you know how many guys she turned down tonight just to stay and talk to you? She even turned down muscle head Mike, who's notorious for reeling in the opposite sex like some fucked up spell that makes him and his sausage arms irresistible, or some shit."

Okay, though this is true, (Beca can admit it felt pretty damn good to watch the look of shock wash over his face at being turned down by Chloe) Beca still can't wrap her head around the slightest possibility of Chloe freaking Beale, insanely good looking dance teacher would ever be interested in her.

"I can spot sexual tension from miles away and you know I'm damn right." Beca shrugs, unable to argue with this one against Ms. Sex Expert. "But I'm serious, shorty, those legs are dying to be pressed against these cheeks." Stacie gives a playful smack to either side of Beca's face for added measures.

Beca cringes at the crass description; Stacie never fails turning any conversation into a sexual one.

Twisting herself away from Chloe; the girl who's practically sitting under a spotlight, "Chloe's not gay, Stacie." Beca declares, crossing her arms above her chest. "Even if she was, which she most definitely isn't, I'm not her type. Stacie, she's a hard ten! I'm a hard six, seven on a good day if I'm lucky!"

"Shut up!" Stacie sends another smack to Beca's head and she really didn't sign up for all this physical abuse tonight. Thankfully, her light buzz from all the drinks takes the pain off each hit, but definitely blurs up her vision more than she would like. "You're a hotty, Becs. Seriously, if I didn't feel like I would be participating in incest, I would've banged you by now."

This earns a laugh from Beca, even when she tried her hardest to keep it in, but Stacie's bluntness in her choice of words has forsure earned itself a designated spot on her funny bone. Settling her laughs down, Beca takes another good look at Chloe to prove her point and averts her eyes back to Stacie, the answer right in front of her.

"She's out of my league," Beca mumbles again, the disappointment finally hitting her full blast.

"No, she's most definitely in your league and is no way not playing for the majors." Beca scrunches her face, not fully understanding this analogy. Maybe she's a lot more drunk than she thought. "Come on, little one." Stacie pulls Beca by the arm again to rejoin Chloe at the bar, giving a friendly pat to her butt before sending her off on her way.

Upon making it there, Chloe senses them walking up and radiates the biggest smile in the history of smiles on her face, making Beca physically weak in the knees the closer she gets to it.

Good lord is this girl a superhero or something with freakish superpowers?

Chloe squints her eyes at Beca, cautiously gulping down the rest of her beer. "So, when are you going to jump up on this table, light it with fire and pour buckets of water on yourself for the highest bid here?" Chloe teases with a crooked smile and a wink that Beca wasn't prepared for. "I think I have a couple bucks to spare."

Stacie's whole body lights up like the moon in a cloudless sky at night time, shooting and throwing her hands up in every direction with exasperation, claiming that everybody would love to see the bar as a real life Coyote Ugly movie, destined to change Luke's mind about it that she's not the only one who agrees.

Beca rolls her eyes with a small chuckle as she watches her best friend march over to Luke's office to give him the grand spiel of her big idea that has just been brought back to life, no thanks to Chloe, who is sitting like a smug, gorgeous culprit and obviously amused by the fire she just caused.

"For your information, I will not, nor ever get up and dance on this table." Chloe clicks her tongue, shaking her head with disappointment. "My ass belongs back here, making killer drinks and back there, playing kick ass mixes." She points over to the empty DJ booth that has cued up a pre-made playlist on the juke box next to it for background music, now that Roger has called it a night.

Following the finger over her shoulder, "you make music?" Chloe switches from her teasing persona to a more interested and serious one, intrigued by the thought of Beca being a DJ with the glint in her eyes that has progressively created a glassy layer over them.

Before Beca can respond to this, Stacie steals the answer right from her mouth as she makes another customer his drink. "Fuck yeah she does, Gingee."

Beca takes the mic back into her own hands, "I want to become a music producer, but for now I make mashups-"

"Amazing mash ups," Stacie corrects and it can be seen that Chloe is truly impressed by their widen in her eyes.

"Thanks, Stace," Beca snickers, muttering Stacie to lock it up, though she appreciates the support and compliments. One thing that Stacie never gets tired of is inflating Beca's ego to maximum size; it's in her nature to swell Beca's confidence like a balloon. "But yeah, that's me." She chuckles nervously while back pedaling up to the guy downing his third double shot of crown, cutting him off before Luke has to carry out yet another passed out fool.

"Very impressive," Chloe says genuinely. "Maybe sometime you can...show me these so-called amazing mash ups." Shrugging nonchalantly, she tugs her coat over her shoulders and pulls out all hair that got caught underneath while Beca tries to push away that bummed out feeling she has in her stomach, not really wanting Chloe to leave just yet.

Beca chances a look over to Stacie and what she is rewarded with is a nod that says a thousand words gesturing towards Chloe standing up from the bar stool, pushing Stacie's assumption made earlier about Chloe having the hots for Beca, which is still something that's impossible to believe.

"I hate to say this, but my taxi is out front and I should head to my hotel so I can wake up early enough to make it home to Billie in time before my scheduled dance session."

At the random name that is clearly made for a male, Beca shoots another glance over to Stacie; one that says "I told you so" and turns back to face Chloe with a small frown. "Well hopefully you'll take the trip back up here for some more drinks. We work literally all the time because daddy long legs over here brings in the most customers and tips," she jokes.

"Though Stacie is very attractive indeed-" Chloe gets cut off by Stacie yelling an appreciative "thank you" from across the bar. Laughing at the sudden outburst and Stacie's insanely great hearing, she continues, "I think people come here for the bad ass bartender who makes amazing mash ups and killer whiskey sours. Gotta say from close up experience, she's pretty easy on the eyes," she finishes with that damn wink again; this time coming out with a lot more force and a distinct route into the flirtation category.

Stacie hears this clear as a bell; a serial killer smile on her face while Beca stands like a paralyzed zombie. Chloe did not just flirt with her. Nope. Not possible. What Chloe said could've literally meant anything and could've been directed towards anyone in this bar.

Yep, no flirting going on here.

Totally platonic.

"I do have a song request before I leave though," Chloe speaks up, already making her way over to the juke box before placing some cash on the table top and pulls out some coins from her purse. Stacie sees the opening while Chloe fiddles around with the endless library of songs to slide up next to Beca, her arm experiencing a full on spazz freak out as it nudges Beca in the ribs over and over again uncontrollably.

Blocking Stacie's berserk jabbing elbow and grabbing a hold of the flying limb before she ends up with a fractured rib, "stop. That could've meant literally anything...like, I'm easy on the eyes meaning I'm not that bad looking." Beca doesn't really know how to feel about this excuse because it doesn't make her feel bad -so to say- about her appearance, but it sure as Hell doesn't make her feel good about it either.

"You seriously can't be this dense, Beca. Chloe totally wants to find out what other talents your fingers can do other than making music." Stacie lifts up a hand and wiggles her fingers in the most uncomfortable and X-rated way, only adding to her sexual innuendo. "And by music I totally mean the mixture of throaty moans and screams you two will make when you guys totally fucccckkk."

Making it completely possible to feel violated by a single verbal sentence, "Oh my God!" Beca screeches, flailing around her hands to hit Stacie all over her body in the effort of shutting up her friend's obnoxious cackles. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

Somewhere during Beca's and Stacie's physical banter, a specific and keenly familiar song blared through the bar's jukebox, all because of an innocent looking redhead staring over at the bartenders with almost devilish smirk, placing her wallet back into her purse.

"I'll see you around, Mitchell," Chloe chirps, batting her big, blue eyes at Beca as she curls up her fingers to wave before strutting her way out of the bar, leaving the venue to drown in the heavy, auto tuned voice of T-Pain while the song "Bartender" fills the aroma.

"Still think she isn't into you?" Stacie whispers in close to Beca's ear, eyes still focused on the door where the redhead just walked through. "Check it." Stacie crawls her fingers across the table to the stack of cash Chloe left like a spider, rummaging through the greatly generous tip she gave Beca, which is only a small detail to prove Stacie's theory right compared to the white receipt also placed in the stack that Stacie plucks out before unfolding it and written in a hot pink pen is a ten digit number that only belongs to the redhead herself.

Unwrinkling the receipt and fluffing it a few times in front of Beca's stone cold face, Stacie bites the tip of her tongue smugly, dropping the number in Beca's frozen hand. "I stand my case."

Beca doesn't really know how to respond, nor can juggle up the right words to explain how she feels at the moment, so she just stands there, dumbfounded and completely confused as she tries to put all the pieces together as to what in the literal fuck just happened.

Despite the occasional dropped hints of flirting that occurred throughout the night involving her and Chloe and the close proximity to her face that Chloe always seemed to gravitate closer to, and the way Chloe didn't for once break eye contact now that she is thinking about it...but even after all of this once it has completed synchronization through her head, she still firmly believes that Chloe would never be into her.

Though she was left a phone number with a small note that read, "text me sometime" with a big pink heart next to it that only confuses her even more.

But she guesses it doesn't even matter since the redhead lives in Miami and they'll probably never even see each other again, even with the redheads number.

Oh well.

At least it saves her the pain and torture she would endure if she were to see Chloe again, knowing a treasure like Chloe would never go for a troll like her.

Guess it saves her the heartbreak, so that's a plus.

---

Beca fucking hates basketball.

Plain and simple.

Probably even more than Jesse talking off her ear about best scored, prehistoric movies and claiming that she just committed the biggest sin in the history of sins when she informs him that she'd rather get water boarded than to sit through a full movie, then chides her for the entire second quarter before halftime that she needs a movie education and he's going to be the one to give it to her.

Which, like, definitely no, dude.

To be honest, the night started off pretty fun and there was even the briefest moment when Beca believed that tonight might actually bring some good out of this double date. They got dressed; Beca chose black skinny jeans that were ripped at the knee and her nicest flannel because, duh, this was a "date." Stacie went for jeans, as well, but her shirt was a lot nicer and fit the whole color code for tonight's game and exposed a lot more cleavage than Beca would ever feel comfortable with.

Stacie curled Beca's hair while Beca watched Stacie do straighten own because anything cosmetic wise is just a no for her. She may be able to make herself look good on the daily, but trying to do Stacie's hair, a girl who has insanely high standards on her appearance, is borderline impossible.

Then they took the four hours to prepare themselves for the whirlwind of possibilities that tonight might bring as they drove to the American Airlines Center where the game was taking place. After looking up bad date bailouts on Google that won't make seem like they're a bunch of jerks if they really aren't enjoying themselves and would prefer to leave without breaking it to the boys, they met with Jake and Jesse in the busy parking and after exchanging the normal awkward greetings, they decided to head inside.

The seats-Beca can admit- are the only nice thing about watching the game because they're super close up to the court and are around all the snobby, rich people who are just as squeamish as she is when it comes to physical contact, so there's a ton of room to breathe and smells less like popcorn and vomit. Plus, there's a small chance of winning a free shirt that the cheerleaders shoot out from guns, so that's nice because she definitely needed more sleeping shirts.

Jake seemed to be barf central nervous the moment he gave Stacie a hug the moment they saw each other in the parking lot. Luckily for Beca, Jesse got one glance as he moved in to do the same that was a silent threat reading, "touch me and I'll cut your balls off" and he backed away immediately, settling for a formal handshake, which was something she could work with.

Here's how the beginning part of the game went; Beca and Stacie chugged a beer and shared a jumbo popcorn while Beca dropped question after question about what the Hell was going on-on the court because unlike her, Stacie actually kind of likes watching basketball and knows a pretty good grasp of how the game actually works. Jake almost experienced a heart attack when he held Stacie's hand half way through the first quarter and Stacie allowed it to happen because she felt sympathetic towards how nervous he was, even though she sees him more as a friend than a boyfriend; Beca knows this because they had a four hour drive and talked about girly things like this.

Jesse; a poor, dense soul, but has a heart of gold and tiny puppies just couldn't put two and two together and realize that Beca, similar to Stacie, isn't interested in dating him, especially after his movie 101 lesson on how she's such a crazy person for not liking movies and wouldn't From the life of him drop the conversation. By that, he ruined his nonexistent shot at dating her, maybe she'd let him put an arm behind her while they watched the game, but sure as Hell not anymore.

The buzzer goes off, ending the second quarter before halftime and Jake and Jesse announce that they're going to the bathroom and to get some beers for the group, which thank God. Stacie and Beca wave them off as they listen to the stadium's speakers announcing that the Miami Heat's dancers will be performing during halftime and it's a performance destined to burn the place down, so hurry up getting your popcorn because you don't want to miss it!

Well, Beca will be the judge of that.

"Jesse's kind of a goof," Stacie comments all of a sudden; the people around them scrambling around to get everything that they need before the game picks back up because apparently the Miami Heat and Orlando's Magic are like the biggest rivals in the NBA and missing any bit of the close scoring game is a real life nightmare, which explains the intense division of red and blue colors separating the full house audience. "He's good looking for sure-has a cute little half smile that's adorable, but I don't see it with you two."

Isn't that the truth that Jesse can't seem to get through his delusional head. Yes, the boy is probably the most chivalrous guy she's been on a date with and even made her genuinely laugh a few times at his cheesy jokes and dopey smile to go along with it, but anything more than friends is a hard pass.

"Besides, I think you and a certain ginger have a lot more chemistry than Star Wars nerd over here," Stacie adds, throwing Beca a playful wink.

Chloe.

That's a name and face Beca has been thinking about a lot lately-well, at least these past few days since she had the honor of meeting and having such a blissful conversation with the beautiful creation herself. They have exchanged a couple texts since that night Beca was secretly left Chloe's number; she casually dropped the ice breaker message that Chloe forgot a tip and she needs to come back to Gainesville immediately, just to tease and once sent, Chloe hit Beca with a "don't eat yellow snow" and it all escalated from there into a friendship between them.

Beca doesn't even know why she couldn't shake Chloe off her mind after hanging out for one night, though she can admit doing so didn't seem like something she really wanted to do, or if it was even possible to forget about those big blue eyes and flaming red mane of hair.

Another thing she couldn't forget was that Chloe would never go for a girl like her, end of story. And bringing it up two days later doesn't change her thoughts about it.

Regardless if Chloe now has her number and have been exchanging texts that bumps them above strangers who just met at the bar.

Beca shrugs it off, not wanting to waste her breath on the same information she has been telling Stacie the moment they left the bar Thursday night when the girl wouldn't shut up about Chloe "having the hots" for her and continued bringing it up the rest of the night until Beca locked Stacie out of her room. Even if she was going to respond to Stacie's unrealistic beliefs, she misses her chance because the lights dim around the entire arena and set up in the middle of the floor is the Miami Heat's dancers crouched in their ready positions while a static silence floods the stadium.

"Damn!" Stacie exclaims once a piercing siren, it sounds like, blares through the overhead speakers and Beyonce's "Partition" began to play. "Let's see who's the hottest and also the most flexible!"

Really, this is an impossible question to answer because as Beca is scanning all the dancers on the court who are wearing the shortest and tightest white shorts above a pair of knee high, black and white converse, along with an even tighter black, crop top tank that reads "Heat" across their chests to scout out the hottest one, she finds that literally all twenty two of them are extremely attractive in an unfair, mesmerizing type of way.

And that's not just because they're dancing to the Queen B is the most sexual, provactive way possible that is hypnotizing her into a deep trance of admiration the longer she stares. Plus, their flexibility goes above and beyond her expectations to the point that how they bend their body is literally jaw dropping.

God, being hot is an understatement for all these dancers.

Maybe basketball isn't too bad after all.

"What did we miss?" Jake and Jesse appear out of nowhere holding a tray of beers and breaks away both Stacie's and Beca's attention away from the dancers; the beer is the only thing making up for them interrupting such a glorious moment going on down on the court. At the sight of the dancers whipping their hair around in the sexiest way possible before dropping into a perfectly executed team splits, Jake cheers a relieved, "oh sick! We didn't miss the Heat's dancers like you were on me about while waiting in line for beers!" and elbows Jesse before sitting down at the edge of his seat.

"Becs and I were just trying to decided the hottest one on the team," Stacie informs while snatching two beers off the tray Jake is carrying and handing one of the plastic cups over to Beca.

"Hottest?" Jesse quirks a brow over his beer as he takes a drink. "You mean prettiest?" If Beca didn't already want to smack the daylights out of Jesse when he chose to throw his arm up around the back of the chair she is sitting on and break all social norms of personal space, she definitely wants to smack him now as she can taste the harshness of her next set of words bubbling at the back of her throat.

Stacie takes the rope on this one after gulping down a pretty hefty amount of beer and hissing at the coldness of the liquid as it slides down her throat. "Nope. Definitely meant hottest, like the hottest girl on the team that we'd totally want to have sex with."

Beca shrugs when Jesse shoots her a deer caught in headlights glance; she would've said her words a little differently that she swung for both teams, but it's Stacie who said this and she expected nothing less.

What a way to break the news that's for sure.

"Oh?" Jesse is still having a hard time reading between the lines and dawn with Jake. It takes a little longer than she originally thought, but the moment his jaw hangs slack and he swipes his arm off the back of her chair in a motion so fast, she thinks he might've dislocated his shoulder, she then knows he finally understood what Stacie meant. "Oh!" he echos, eyes the size of saucers. "I-I…I didn't… like um...that's cool though!"

Beca rolls her eyes and can't keep it in her not to laugh at this poor sight in front of her. Slapping a friendly pat over his hand that sits on his thigh, she offers a smile, "don't worry about it." And lifts her hand out for a shake. "Friends?"

Looking at the offered hand, Jesse wipes his own on top of his jeans and takes the outstretched hand with a firm grip. "Friends."

Stacie shushes both of them as she is entirely focused on the court where the dancers are still going at it, still looking just as sexy as the second they came out, moving their bodies in the most abstract fashion. She does, however, reach for Jake's hand again, taking one for the team with lightening the tension off of the boys at the whole "bisexual bomb."

"So, which one did you two decided on?" Jesse, who doesn't seem too upset about losing a shot with Beca, casually brings up.

Scanning the floor all over again, she settles on one girl in particular. "The redhead is pretty hot," Beca points down towards the general area where the team is at and directly at one of the only dancers with bright red hair.

Hands down, the girl is the best dancer on the team and how she moves her body should be considered illegal and a straight up crime. Plus, even with the distance separating them she can spot a smile that lights up the whole place and everything about this dancer seems to have a heavy effect on Beca, which is extremely weird and she doesn't fully understand why.

"Of course you'd pick the redhead." Stacie snorts, following Beca's line of sight over towards the redhead, but admits that the girl has it going on it all the right places. "Think she's hotter than Chloe? Hair is just as red and body is just as bangin'."

Beca thinks hard about her response. Chloe is the prime definition of the complete package. She has an amazing personality; she's funny and cute, but can switch in a blink of an eye into the spiciest hot tamale in the store, so that's a lot to compete with. Chloe also has a very, very nice image, physical wise, and has a giggle and smile that could end wars and cure cancer.

And don't even get Beca started about her fucking abnormally blue eyes because that's a whole other story she just doesn't want to get into, just because she'd have a novel to talk about, filled with tons of reasons as to why she loves it so much.

But this girl comes pretty damn close, if not equal to Chloe's high level of attractiveness.

Who knew that would even be possible?

"Did you say Chloe?" Jake asks Stacie, taken back by the name and she hums her answer in response. "If the Chloe you're talking about has red hair and blue eyes to die for than that's your girl out there shaking it."

At Jake's statement when labeling this phenomenal dancer as Chloe, the girl she spent hours at a bar talking to and even played a game of jenga with is in fact, one of the Miami Heat's dancers is to freeze, not fully believing him because that's just be the Goddamn cherry on top to Chloe's entire existence.

But as Beca zooms onto the court as best as she can when the team finishes up their routine; not leaving dry seat in the stadium (if you know what she means) all the wind gets sucked straight out of her lungs when it feels like she just got hit by a sack of bricks to the stomach when locking eyes with those intoxicating icy blues down on court.

Body hitting a new stage of paralysis as the crowd around her goes ballistic over the performance and she focuses on the red hair bowing down and waving out to the fans circled around her before jogging off the court with her team. "Oh my God!" Beca exclaims, coming to a conclusion that Chloe is indeed a Miami Heat dancer and only then starts to panic when she notices Chloe squeezing her way through the people around the sidelines and heads up the stairs that lead directly to the section Beca's sitting in.

Stacie hisses at the sudden, erratic slaps Beca gives to her forearm, reddening the area more and more each smack, but she could care less of Stacie's demands to stop because there happens to be a way bigger problem beginning with the fact that Chloe is, like, semi famous, and is walking her famous presence up the stadium's stairs and is heading straight for Beca with that giant smile plastered on her face the whole way up, elated to see a familiar face in the crowd.

"Holy shit, Stacie, it's Chloe! Chloe's a fucking dancer for a fucking NBA team!" Beca slugs down in her seat, maybe far enough that Chloe won't see her anymore and it really wishing she had on a pair of sunglasses and a hoodie to throw the hood up, taking camouflage to a whole new stage.

"Beca, chill!" Stacie is able to catch Beca's hand before the stinging from the slaps burns right through her skin. "What does Chloe being a dancer have to do with anything? You should be bouncing off the walls that a dancer that hot totally wants to bang you."

You see, that's the main problem here. Originally when all Beca knew about Chloe was that she teaches a bunch of teenage girls how to dance and was perfect in every category on the charts that she would never have a chance with Chloe-that was something she told herself the first sight of the redhead, though it stung like a bitch.

But now, with the dancing and the NBA and the hot dancing and the hot dancing for the NBA players, it's just an overload of realization that if Beca didn't have a shot with Chloe before, she most definitely doesn't have a shot with her now.

No way would a hot shot dancer even associate themselves with a dirty bartender like she is; the thought of it happening is just as unsettling as it is unrealistic.

"What's happening?" Jesse and Jake share a confused glance at the first row ticket to Beca's freakout show, unable to understand why she'd be freaking out in the bad way that a Miami Heat dancer is seconds away from being at an arm's reach of them and not bouncing off the edge of her seat with buzzing enthusiasm.

Disregarding Jesse's question due to her brain being preoccupied with brainstorming a plan to duck away from Chloe's sight and exit the arena without being noticed ASAP, she doesn't have much time to think about possible escape routes because Chloe is right there in front of her before she has the chance to, standing in those tiny white shorts and black crop top, giving her a perfect view of photoshopped stomach muscles and quadriceps that stuns her like a deer who just got shot with dart straight to the butt cheek.

"Beca! What are you doing here?!" Chloe exclaims winded from the performance, her excitement when seeing the bartender at the game evident in her pitch and face splitting smile. She then catches the taller brunette connected to Beca's side and her smile splits even larger. "Hey Stacie! What is this a little Blackbird reunion?"

"It must be! Wow, what are the odds!" Stacie gushes, highly amused at the inner panic shown in Beca's features since her friend's eyes haven't left Chloe's frame since the moment she got there.

Even with the non existent space between rows, Chloe weasels her way across Jake's sitting form at the aisle seat and moves in to give Stacie a warm hug, then reaches her arms out for Beca's turn, someone who is still experiencing insane levels of paralysis to even blink, so she just sits there, staring at Chloe in all her exposed glory, holding her arms out with a triple sized smile and waits for it to click that she's not leaving until she gets a hug from Beca.

"Come on, Becs, I don't bite," Chloe taunts with the dropped nickname; a nickname that lots of people have called Beca before in the past, but only this time coming from Chloe's mouth has the effects of creating a hurricane of emotions to wash over Beca's body.

Figuring she'd make an even bigger scene than one she's already created if she weren't to hug Chloe back, she slowly stands up from her seat; her legs still have zero feeling in them so it's kind of sloppy on the way up and dips her chin over Chloe's shoulder when they're at the same level, desperately trying to find a good place to wrap her arms because it's then she realizes that Chloe is half naked and everywhere she does end up putting her hand touches toned, smooth skin and causes her to violently jerk her hands back at the warm contact.

The hug Beca gets from Chloe lasts a lot longer than the hug Stacie previously received, which Beca can already sense the dirty smirk radiating off her best friend's face without even looking. She settles with placing her hands on the upper part of Chloe's crop top, savoring the heavenly scent of this girl's perfume and wow, is that strawberry shampoo?

"It's so nice to see you again!" Chloe chirps, reeling Beca out of her maybe creepy adoration over the redhead, pulling away from the hug, but keeping her hands locked securely over Beca's wrists.

For the most part-except the lack of clothing covering skin that Beca wasn't able to gape at in the blue cocktail dress worn Thursday night- Chloe looks the same; still as jaw dropping as the first time Beca met her at the bar. She has her hair straightened instead of those bouncing curls and there's a lot more dark eye makeup enclosing those icy orbs.

Admittedly, Chloe dressed right now is making it hard to focus on anything else other than her milky tan skin and incredible pair of biceps that Beca would not mind one bit being trapped in a headlock.

"You're welcome," is all Beca mutters before she can even process how fucking idiotic it would've made her sound because that is definitely not the response to give to someone when they tell you how excited and nice it is to see you. Like seriously? A "you too," or something along those lines would've sufficed.

Not "you're welcome," as if she's giving off her presence like some type of charity.

What the actual fuck, Mitchell.

Chloe cocks a brow, obviously confused at the response, but nonetheless not amused by it.

Beca mentally slaps herself a few dozen times in the face, closing her eyes and hoping to get the chance of starting this whole interaction over, maybe this time she wouldn't pull things from her ass.

"I mean, thanks?"

Nope, still talking from her ass. Great job, really outdoing herself here.

"I think Beca means she's happy to see you too." Bless Stacie for having mercy and taking the spotlight off of Beca before she had the chance to make herself look even more moronic. What a great friend. "She gets all flustered around smokin' redheads with blue eyes, an impeccable rack and insanely defined stomach muscles."

Erase that last thought; Beca decides Stacie is the worse possible friend to have at this current moment of time. She also decides that her face can't possibility her any hotter as she can feel the blood rising up to her cheeks when her eyes accidentally slip down Chloe's body in a way so far from subtle that she might as well of taken a picture.

And of course Chloe so happens to catch this blatant movement and the praising smirk she curves up in return only makes Beca want to crawl up into a tiny little ball and roll away forever.

Maybe get hit by a train a few hundred, thousand fucking times.

"Yeah, I guess I forgot to mention," Chloe gestures with her hands above her chest and Beca has to force herself to look at the very fascinating ceiling just because she doesn't trust herself not to stare at Chloe's cleavage again. "All this."

You guess, Chloe? You guess?

"So you're a dancer?" Beca finally manages to ask, gesturing her finger above Chloe's very distinct outfit. "A professional, cheerleader, dancer?"

Is that even a thing?

"For part time," Chloe answers, politely moving to squat down in the aisle so people could resume watching the game when the buzzer goes off, signaling that halftime is over. "I've been dancing for the Heat for three years once I graduated from college and didn't have my dancing studio yet. Figuring I would not make a healthy living waiting for that to happen, Heat dancer tryouts were going on and I tried out, made the team and have been doing this for all events and homes games."

Beca nods her head as she listens to the few extra details about Chloe that she didn't get the night at the bar. Actually, she didn't get a lot of personal information about the girl, such as her age and since she mentioned graduating college, but not having her dance studio yet, that has to mean she has to be a few years older than Beca.

Twenty five maybe?

"Um, hi," Jake presents his voice all of a sudden and Beca felt bad that she forgot all about him once Chloe arrived. He holds out his hand with the cheesiest smile know to man sported on his face, "I have 2010 to 2016's calendars of you guys hanging up in my room."

Beca facepalms herself; this dude, where the fuck did he come from? Was he dropped on his head as baby?

Admittedly, she doesn't really know what she's more irked about; the fact that she ran into Chloe at a basketball game, only to find out she's one of the insanely hot dancers (which now makes total sense because Chloe is insanely hot and the job fits the description) and her chances scoring a date with this girl has gone from zero to non fucking existent, or the fact Jesse just admitted out loud to having several calendars of these dancers hanging up in his college dorm room and she can take a rough guess and assume these pictures aren't the most reserved when it comes to showing off their bodies.

Mainly, she's teetering towards the second one because these dancers aren't fucking Playboy bunnies and she knows exactly how and what teenage boys do with these revealing images of these very attractive females and just the thought of Jesse-and actually a ton of people doing that type of activity towards a photo of Chloe makes her sick to her stomach.

Surprisingly, Chloe just laughs at this comment, not really seeming too squeamish about the creepy confession Jesse just blurted and for sure doesn't help the uneasy feeling in Beca's stomach as she makes it seem like this is a comment that's heard often. "That's very flattering, thanks!"

Now that Jesse has mentioned this, however, where could Beca possibly snatch one of these so-called calendars that she'll use primarily use for scientific research?

Absolutely nothing else.

"I know it's probably a lot to take in," Chloe snickers and finally she got something right. "But I'd love to explain everything over some coffee or lunch?"

"All of us or just Beca?" Stacie teases, wiggling her eyebrows up and down that are mainly directed towards Beca who wants to also smack the motions out of her.

Laughing lightly, "I mean, I'd say all of you guys, but I'm not too sure I know who you are-except you, who has pictures of me up in their room." Chloe points over to Jesse and his fangirl excitement can be felt without even touching him.

"Oh!" Jake slides to the front of his chair, holding out his hand for Chloe to take. "My name is Jake and this is my buddy Jesse. We are on a double date."

"What?" Chloe frowns mid way through the handshake and hold up. Was that a hint of disappointment in her voice at the reveal that she just walked into a date?

"I'm with Beca and Stacie is with Jake," Jesse clarifies and the flinch in Beca's hand that moves to smack him upside the head.

"Awesome, thanks for reiterating that Jesse, thanks a lot," Beca mumbles sarcastically, squinting a nasty scowl over to the filterless boy.

"Oh, well I'm terribly sorry for interrupting your guys' date," Chloe takes her hand back and her voice is the softest Beca has ever heard it before and there's also a hint of thickness accompanied with her words.

Needing to clear up the big elephant in the room, "I'm not on a date with this goof-well I am, technically, but we are just friends." Beca gestures her hand between her and Jesse, thankfully, Jesse confirms this with a nod.

Maybe Beca's losing her tolerance and the beer is fogging up her head a lot faster than she thought, but somewhere across Chloe's impressive structures she thinks she catches a wave of relief wash over the redhead's features at the confirmation that she isn't really on a date, which is something she can't fully interpret and just makes her head throb trying to look deeper into Chloe's curving smile directed to only her.

"Text me later?" Chloe suggests; her smile back and brighter than ever, but the game is stealing most of her attention as her team is dancing along the sidelines with an empty space in the row designated for her. "I'd love to hang out with you sometime."

Beca stutters out a series of just sounds, she thinks, along with a frantic head nod, but luckily Chloe gets the gist of what she's desperately trying to squeeze out and doesn't ask for anymore. Chloe says as sincerely as possible how nice it was to meet everyone, waving

Bouncing away after a loud "go heat!" that earns a roar of applause from the crowd in her best enthusiastic, cheerleader voice, Beca watches Chloe skips down the stairs back onto the court to join her team on the sidelines where she's scolded by her coach, it looks like, that she needs to stay on the court at all times, but doesn't seem to affected by the lecturing with the cheeky smile that doesn't for once leave her face.

During her process of making it to the court, Beca also catches a handful of wandering eyes from the crowd as they ogle Chloe's body, worshiping it like a fucking temple-not that Beca can really disagree because Chloe's body is a temple and in the words of John Mayer, her body is a wonderland-which is totally the gayest thing Beca has ever thought.

Oh my God.

Anyways; it's weird. This whole night has just performed a complete three sixty turn from eh to holy shit at the recognition of Chloe adding even more impressive bullet points under her name.

"I understand why I lost my chance with you and I'm not even upset about it because Chloe Beale is a girl to die for," Jesse breathes with his stupid dopey grin, acting completely moonstruck from Chloe's aura.

"Agreed," Jake chips in, as if Beca needed the extra clarification.

Even though they speak the truth-Chloe being a girl to die for and all- that simple truth is the main problem here. Everyone in their right mind fantasizes about having a shot with Chloe; it's evident in all their faces when Chloe steps up to the scene and stuns them with her raw, natural beauty. And seeing this, she simply can't wrap her head around how the fact that Chloe could, in the slightest, have feelings for her.

The rest of the game, all Beca can focus on is that dancing redhead jumping up and down out on the sidelines, amping the crowd up as the Heat beat the Magic in overtime and she just sits there thinking, she totally just got beaten at a game of jenga by a Goddamn Miami Heat dancer.

---

Beca doesn't text Chloe that night during the long drive home after the game, even when Stacie keeps pestering her to do it from the driver's seat of the car, urging her to step up something that she considers a date, which really needs no explanation as to why it leaves Beca flabbergasted in the passenger seat.

The main reason why she doesn't text Chloe is simple. She; a small little bartender does not fit the criteria of someone who should be appearing in a girl like Chloe's social circle. It's hard to believe that Chloe would still want to talk to Beca even with her successful occupations and everything she does on her free time.

Again, as Beca said before, but she'll repeat it (just like she had to do with Stacie when the girl wouldn't stop expressing her delusional thoughts about Chloe having a thing for her) Chloe is a hard ten on the attractive scale and really, that does even come close to ranking her true attractiveness because if so, that scale would be destroyed cause there's honestly no number to put for Chloe and her God made human form and everything else amazing that comes with her.

Beca can't live up to that standard because not only is she a six on that scale, she's also a nobody who can make delicious alcoholic beverages and can create some sick mash ups on her laptop over some expensive, DJ software that she had to scavenge for change to buy while she's alone in her room.

Plus, it's obvious Stacie has forgotten the biggest reason why Beca would never have a shot with Chloe because back in Miami, Chloe has a boyfriend named Billie, and he's probably tall, insanely good looking and they're probably happily in love and Beca doesn't stand the chance even if Chloe was into her.

Which she totally isn't.

Guess she's going to have to decline, decline, decline until Stacie gets it through her mind that Chloe would never ever-even if she was dying- go out with her.

---

Spending a day alone by herself to process everything from the night before, Beca finally builds up the courage to drop a text by Chloe.

She apologizes for the delay in contacting the redhead, but uses the excuse of being swamped at the bar (instead of admitting that the main reason she didn't contact Chloe was because she was having many in denial thoughts about Chloe still wanting to hang out with her) and though it's a Sunday night and she is off from work and is currently submerged in blankets on her bed, listening to music and stuffing her face with Doritos, it seemed like a valid excuse.

But Chloe doesn't need to know the details.

Chloe buys the work fib and responds that it's totally okay, with a ton of different emojis that she always needs to add to every message ever sent and it kinda makes Beca smile because it's kinda really adorable and totally fits Chloe's bubbly personality.

Usually, Beca ignores anyone that over uses emojis when not needing to-ask Stacie to back this up because she has spent multiple days on the back burner when Beca refused to text her because she went through a phase of only communicating with emoticons and Beca had enough of it.

But when Chloe does it, Beca doesn't feel annoyed and it's a different type feeling that doesn't make her want to use the handy gesture on her iPhone and block Chloe.

It's insane, she knows.

After a while of just talking about how Chloe's day was and how she went to the gym to keep her rock hard abs up to perfection and got a lot of chores done around the apartment that she hasn't got the chance to do because, duh, Chloe's a Heat dancer, she casually drops it by Beca that she a her roommate, Aubrey, are planning on stopping by Blackbird tomorrow night.

When Beca asks what the special occasion to drive four hours up to a bar for some cocktails when they could easily drive ten minutes for a similar bar in Miami with the same type of drinks without wasting so much gas, Chloe doesn't really explain in detail as to why, except that she could go for another whiskey sour that only tastes the best when Beca makes them and that she had the day off from her second job, the one that wasn't dancing for a professional, NBA basketball team and could really use the ego boost when she beats Beca at another game of jenga.

And being one up for a challenge to redeem herself and unable to control her competitive nature, Beca reserves a couple special drinks that will be ready at the bar for Chloe and Aubrey to pick up when they arrive.

The hard part of the night once Beca sends Chloe off with a friendly, totally platonic "goodnight" text and that she's excited to kick the redhead's ass in jenga tomorrow night is running this news by Stacie; the long legged, devil herself.

Hearing the plans and added company musters up a whole series of lunatic thoughts and only inflates Stacie's theory even more about Chloe being into Beca, which she keeps denying until it sticks into Stacie's big, not applicable delusions that Chloe will never ever ever ever ever ever be into her and that her and Chloe are nothing more than friends.

"Friends that totally give each other orgasms," is what Beca is rewarded with before a boisterous cackle erupts from Stacie and then she's leaving the kitchen and stomps up to her room, ending the conversation with a slam to her door because Stacie Conrad is incorrigible.

---

Part two and the final installment soon time very soon, my friends!

Performance I used for Chloe's routine was the Celtics vs. Heat game if you type in "Miami Heat Dancers" on Youtube, just FYI if interested in a visual performance :)