A/N: Well here is the first installment of this fic. Following PP2 canon-ish, it's a bit angsty at first so bear with me This chapter is told from Chloe's POV.

What was that feeling I got when Beca accidentally complimented Kommissar? It was the day of the car show, and I had been psyched up to give them a little trash talk. But then Beca came face to face with the lead singer of the group, and I could tell how awestruck she was. This really threw me off guard. It was a little secret that I'd had for a while now that I want to be more than friends with Beca, and I'd never confessed it to anyone. I'd spent the past three years building my friendship with her, even though we were really fast friends since the beginning. I kicked myself every time I let an opportunity to tell her slip by, but I could never make a move.

"You are…physically flawless," Beca said accusatorily and I wrinkled my eyebrows. The Kommissar took the comment in stride, like she'd heard it many times before. I stood by, trying desperately to identify what it was I was feeling, numb to the scene before me save for a few times I uttered some stupid sounding threats.

Was it shame? As the leader of the Bellas for the past three years, it was hard to believe that a member of our group would act out in such a brash and revealing way, and to our competition as well. I was embarrassed for Beca's sake and for the sake of the group, but no, that wasn't the feeling that made my stomach drop to my feet.

Was it pity? Beca was my closest friend at Barden, and I'd never seen someone get to her the way that Kommissar had in that moment. I felt bad for the girl, trying to ease her humiliation by commiserating with her. But no, that wasn't the feeling that made my mouth go dry.

Was it anger? That seemed to be the most on target so far. I felt threatened by the way that this German girl we just met already had my best friend wrapped around her finger. It made me want to lash out, to beat her and Das Sound Machine into the ground. But no, that wasn't the feeling that made my muscles go weak.

I led the group out of the building in fashion, fists clenched by my sides, and that's when I realized. The feeling was jealousy. Pure, green, unadulterated jealousy. I was jealous of Beca, for getting more attention than me from DSM, but even more so, I was jealous of Kommissar. I was jealous of the fact that she, this intimidatingly tall German woman that we just met, was receiving more attention from Beca now than I had in the past month.

That was another thing that bothered me. As my friend's senior year began, she suddenly seemed a lot more distant. Once the Bellas found our sound, Beca had always been eager to arrange sets and just spend time with us all. But this September, she was gone all the time, and only had a minute for a few rushed words with me. I felt…alienated, I guess. I couldn't imagine what better things she could be doing with her days than helping to save our a capella group.

All I wanted was to talk to her. I thought maybe a little heart to heart after seeing today's show would get us on the same page, but now I couldn't deal with talking to anyone. I needed to sort my thoughts out, because I was afraid that if I talked now, I would say something I would regret.

Fat Amy caught up with me, asking, "Hey, Chloe, y'alright? You seemed a little tense back there."

"No kidding," I snapped, then relented. "Sorry. Just got a lot on the brain right now, with DSM and all."

I must've had some look on my face that showed I really wasn't in the mood for chit chat, because Fat Amy smiled understandingly, nodded, and fell back to walk with Stacie and Lilly. That left me at the front of the pack, leading by myself. I'd never felt like that before. I'd always had Beca by my side, and before that, Aubrey. Why did I feel like now I was the only one 100% committed?

I glanced back to make sure everyone was there, trying not to look too long at Beca, who was trailing behind the group, staring intently down at her phone. A strand of brown hair was hanging down over her eye. I sighed, knowing that she would usually let me be the one to brush it behind her ear so I could see her piercing blue eyes again. Just thinking about that kind of physical contact, the little, everyday kind, made my heart beat a little faster. That was a novelty for me. Recently Beca hadn't even had time to sit next to me.

I unlocked the Bella bus with a huff, and Fat Amy took her seat at the wheel, as I took my usual seat by the front right window. We had a full bus, as usual, but with my aura of leave-me-alone, everyone else chose seats away from my own. That meant, with Beca bringing up the tail end of the group, she was left with zero degrees of freedom. She glanced around the bus, as if she was hoping another seat somewhere else would appear, but it didn't. So she plopped down beside me, not looking me in the eye.

Realizing I'd been holding my breath since she boarded the bus, I exhaled loudly, which made the situation even more awkward. Beca glanced up at me sideways through her wall of hair, but looked back down at her phone again before I could react.

I tried to look out the window, hum a song to myself, or twiddle my thumbs to distract myself from her. But I just kept looking back. I was captivated by her, Beca Mitchell, just like I had been for the past three years. I wish she didn't ignore me. Notice me, Beca, I begged silently. I will be here for you forever if you just say the word. But there was no response.

A few minutes later, Beca did look up at me, that darn strand of hair still in her eyes. I took a risk and brushed it away. I couldn't hold back a smile when her black-framed eyes sparkled like they used to, and she mischievously handed me an earbud (she didn't carry her Beats with her unless she had somewhere safe to put them). I accepted, and allowed the melancholy rhythm of Beca's latest mix to sweep me away.

I caught a few approving glances from Fat Amy and the rest of the crew, as if they, too, sensed some relief of tension between the two of us. That made me happy.

We rolled back up to the Bella house and all the girls piled out. I was last, to lock up the bus and make sure everything was in its place, but Beca hung back beside me. Only when everyone had already gone inside did she say, "Sorry about today, Chlo. I didn't mean to embarrass you or whatever. Kommissar just got to me. I don't know why it happened."

Beca leaned against the side of the bus, her palm placed against the window. I knew I couldn't hold a grudge against her. I placed my hand over hers and squeezed it. "It's okay, it's fine, really. We all have days like those."

She shook her head. "You don't," she replied. "You're always calm, composed, classic Chloe. How do you do it?"

I spun her around, and, still holding her hand loosely like a friend would, walked her back to the front door. "Have you seen me lately? I've been a mess with all this Bella-suspension drama. I keep it together for the girls, but inside I'm falling apart. This is my seventh year here, you think I'd have figured it out, huh."

Beca didn't respond. We'd made it up onto the porch, and she took my other hand gently so we stood facing each other. The petite woman looked up, and I looked down to meet her gaze. She smiled sadly, and I wondered what was on her mind. I wanted to ask, but I wanted to do something else more.

I could never bring myself to do it, though, and I know it. Kiss her, I mean. Which is why it was such a surprise when Beca leaned in towards me. Were her eyes really on my lips, or was it just my imagination? Her hands were both on my shoulders now, and somehow mine found their way to her waist. I didn't rush to lean into her as well, but I didn't stop the distance between our mouths decreasing until we were only inches apart.

But then Beca surprised me again, dodging off to the right and pulling me into a brief, terse hug. "Well, thanks for a good night, Red. See ya."

She disappeared into the house, seemingly forgetting that I lived there too. I slumped back against a pillar and put my head in my hands. So close, yet so far. Why did she make me feel this way? I wasn't used to it, I wasn't comfortable with it, and yet it was all I dreamed about. With a groan, I too entered the house and went straight up into my bedroom.