The Real Tough Cookie with a Long History
Chloe is pissed. Chloe is pissed, a bit drunk, fighting an urge to get even more alcohol, and did anyone mention really, really pissed?
She's definitely, definitely mentioned that to Aubrey, but Aubrey is unbelievably too drunk to absorb anything she's saying right now. In fact, Aubrey is still too busy singing her beloved Ladies of the '80s hits to take note of anything else.
It's only pissing off Chloe all the more.
It started when she dragged the intoxicated blonde out of a frat house half an hour earlier, after seeing her getting hit on uninvited by one too many overly aggressive Sigma Beta douchebags. She should have known it would be a mistake to bring Aubrey to a boozefest right after finals, a horrid week with the Bellas, and another less than affectionate conversation with her father. But Chloe had been running out of ideas on how to distract the blonde—and herself—from, well, things.
A swig of beer and a few mixed drinks usually perk up Chloe enough for her to see silver linings again. Successful passes at eye candy—which Chloe was collecting before she had to collect Aubrey—also help. Apparently, the same amount of alcohol pumps up Aubrey enough for her to warrant a special membership in the High Notes. (For the love of everything aca, Chloe hopes word of this night will never, ever reach Alice—not to mention Mr. Posen.)
It was fine when Aubrey started warbling some tunes that sounded vaguely like her Dixie Chicks favorites. Chloe even hummed along, much to Aubrey's delight, and Chloe was only too glad to link her arm through the other girl's, steadying her as they strolled home.
But then Aubrey started singing what seemed like Cher and Cyndi Lauper.
And then Aubrey started singing Alone.
It's not that Chloe dislikes 80s music, or thinks Alone should never be sung anymore. It's just that she dragged Aubrey to that party to help her loosen up—not have the blonde let loose that thicket of emotions Chloe herself wanted to drink away.
"Till now, I always got by on my o-own! I never really cared until I met you!" Aubrey pulls Chloe's arm and tries to twirl her. "How do I get you alo-o-one?"
"How do I get you to shut up?" Chloe sighs as Aubrey launches into the chorus at the top of her high, clear voice. "God, Bree, why did you have to drink so much so fast?"
"And I was gonna tell you tonight, but the secret is still my own!"
Chloe doesn't deceive herself into believing that is an actual reply. She doesn't cringe, either, when Aubrey sings the next line just a little too shrilly.
At the door of their apartment, the singing touches her final nerve. Aubrey's gone back to Cyndi Lauper, cooing Girls Just Want to Have Fun.
Chloe is so done.
"Bree, shut up," she says for the ninth time, fiddling with the lock.
"The phone rings in the middle of the night. My father yells what you gonna do with your life—"
"Bree. Shut up."
Aubrey's hand brushes hers as they both push open the door.
"Oh, daddy dear you know you're still number one—"
"BREE! SHUT! UP!"
At any other time, Chloe would have laughed at the utter shock on Aubrey's face. She should be glad, really, that Aubrey can even sing those lines so light-heartedly at all, but she knows she can only do it now because she's drunk. Aubrey is never going to sing this song sober, because standing up to her dad, singing in the streets, and having fun are things she's never going to do sober. (Among other things Aubrey could probably do but won't—things Chloe could have but can't.)
Glaring at the blonde, she steps into the two-bedroom flat, tosses the keys onto the counter, then heads to the refrigerator to get water. Aubrey saunters in after her, closing the door.
"I'm sorry, Chloe," she drawls. "Are you… are you mad?"
"AM I MAD?" Chloe slams the fridge door shut. "Do I sound like I'm mad, Aubrey? Do I look like it? "
She's really doing everything in her power to not slap this oblivious bitch right now.
Which, in fact, is the next thing Aubrey herself suggests that she do.
"Oh my God, slap me." The other girl's jaw drops both at her own order and a sudden realization. "Like. Oh my God. Chloe. You're angry at me."
"Gee-ee, you noticed."
"Is it because you were totally going to get laid but you came and got me instead?"
It comes out of nowhere, and it's the alcohol, totally the alcohol. She's not taunting her, Chloe knows. She never would, though it's hard not to think she isn't. Not when she's also giggling at what she's just said and somehow able to name who Chloe flirted with that evening.
"Were you going with Josh? Eric? Lisa? Or Brian? Both of them? Oh my God, Chloe!"
Chloe is really losing it. She doesn't know why she ever wished Aubrey would be anything but sober, uptight, grumpy, and quiet.
"You didn't have to…" Aubrey then says, voice suddenly soft, eyes suddenly searching, and Chloe starts at the changing mood. "I mean, Chloe… I… I just… I don't… you're… " But whatever she is trying to say almost visibly dies in her brain, right behind that spot where her furrowed brows are now meeting.
And instead, to Chloe's infuriation, she starts singing. Again.
"Hit me with your best shot."
"What?"
"You're angry. I understand. I ruined everything. So, hit me."
"Aubrey!"
"Put up your dukes, let's get down to it!"
Aubrey starts dancing, a huge, goofy grin on her face, and she stares down Chloe head on, lost again in her delirium for the night. Chloe has always been privy to Aubrey's silly side, has teased her endlessly about it, but she can't fathom what brought on this extra dose of ridiculousness. Yet Aubrey is reveling in it, shaking mock-fists at the other girl, bumping her hip against hers.
"Hit me with your best shot. Why don't you hit me with your best shot?"
And that's when Chloe loses it. Because Aubrey is right. She is mad because she could have had the pick of the campus tonight, or any other night, and yet here she is, being poked fun at by a drunk, beautiful, broken heartbreaker of a girl, because she is her choice and yet she has no chance of ever telling her that, much less a shot at having her feel the same way.
"Hit me with your best shot!"
Not unless—
"Fire awa—"
In one swift motion, Chloe grabs the back of Aubrey's head and presses her mouth onto hers. She grips the taller girl's shoulder with her other hand before lacing her fingers into her hair.
Aubrey stiffens and no, she doesn't kiss or even touch her back, but she doesn't move away and Chloe cannot yet let her go. This is nothing she's ever wanted to let happen but she is also beyond tipsy and it is everything she's ever imagined. It is liberating, exhilarating, and terrifying and it could completely destroy their friendship and oh God, yes, it shuts Aubrey up and with one last push before she pulls away, Chloe prays it will also silence all of her own yearning, doubt, curiosity, and hope.
When she takes a step back and dares to look up, she sees Aubrey with her eyes half-closed, lips half-open, and a hand caught halfway in the air, right by the space Chloe's face had been a moment earlier.
Aubrey begins to grin. Chloe feels like she might die.
"Oh," the blonde says, teeth on her lips—then giggles into song again. "That's okay. I see how you do it."
And before Chloe could set fire to Pat Benatar and every other female 80s star who she's pretty sure will be the only women to ever have Aubrey's affections, Aubrey stops giggling and grabs her stomach.
And because Chloe is Chloe, and Aubrey is Aubrey, Chloe runs after her to the bathroom. For the rest of the night, she holds back the blonde's hair, rubbing the spot between her shoulder blades and handing her tissues, until she finally helps her into bed at dawn. It's a most unromantic turn of events, but it's really how their evening probably would have ended, anyway. It's something she's done for her best friend before, and something she knows she may well do again and again.
Come the very-late-lunch-that-is-breakfast the following day, the blonde shows every sign of a wicked hangover and the typical Posen hard-headedness to fight through it. That afternoon and the days and months after, she doesn't show a sign of remembering the kiss, either.
Chloe, on the whole, is actually relieved. She admits it makes her heart break just a little more, but at least, what Aubrey doesn't remember won't kill their friendship.
Chloe knows she won't forget it, though.
And, quite frankly, that makes her really, really, miserably pissed.