Everyone knew a Jesse Swanson.

Every girl had had their heart broken by a Jesse Swanson.

Tall, dark, handsome- the perfect mix of nerd and hot, the one every girl fell for.

Only this particular kind in the species- the real Jesse Swanson- was the opposite. He was always the one who fell for the girl- head over heels- and was left. He was the one who was left, and it had been the way since he was in seventh grade.

He didn't know why. He didn't think he'd ever know why.

His friends called him a commitment-phobe- never sure enough of the future, never willing to take it that one step further.

When he was younger, he dreamt of the happy ending, just like the ones in the movies. The perfect white wedding, two point five children and a dog, a picket fence. The all American dream.

But before long, he realised the American dream wasn't what he was looking for.

Or what he was going to achieve.

His life was messy- like his bedroom- and nothing at all like he'd imagined it when he was younger.

Eleven year old Jesse had his shit together.

Thirty something year old Jesse did not.

But thirty something year old Jesse owned his own video store- not too far of a cry from his college dream of writing and producing the scores for movies, and he was probably the biggest movie nerd in the world- and employed people and was able to cover the rent, and had a gorgeous girlfriend.

Beca.

Beca Mitchell wasn't an ordinary girl. She was anything but ordinary.

Beca Mitchell was extraordinary.

She was dark and mysterious and smart and funny, and never ever let anyone see her smile.

Until she did.

And it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

She had stumbled upon his store by accident five years earlier, and he made it his mission to charm her.

She had seen straight through him, and dodged every move he made.

She didn't like movies, she said.

(How could anyone not like movies? Not liking movies was like not liking puppies. Beca disliked everything fun in the world.)

She didn't like coffee, she said.

She wasn't interested in dating anyone at the time, she said, because she wanted to focus on her music and get her life into gear, and make it to Los Angeles.

Finally, after six months of turning him down, she gave in. She came to the store once it was shut, and they watched the Breakfast Club, curled up on the futon out the back.

She claimed she hated it. She said she hated it and that she wouldn't watch it again, but he knew her better than that. He saw her eyes light up as Judd Nelson pumped his fist into the air, and he saw her mouth move along to Simple Minds' lyrics.

And eventually, she had admitted it. She liked the music, and it wouldn't be so bad if she had to suffer through it again.

Beca had walls, but Jesse had chipped them away. He broke them down, and one day, it was just the two of them. Beca and Jesse against the world. And they had life worked out.

He didn't remember when she officially moved in- once day, she just never went home, and eventually, all her things made it to his apartment. Their apartment, it was their apartment. Little Beca touches, like the multicoloured spatula in the kitchen and the scratched up muffin tin he kept promising to replace but never did and the well worn cushions to match his well worn couch, and the grey knitted blanket she snuggled up to in the evenings. The box of tampons in the bathroom and the pink toothbrush on the sink (he had never pegged her as having a pink toothbrush, but the girl was a mystery) and the tapes, everywhere. So many cassette tapes, all labelled very carefully with Beca's very neat left handed script.

She let him listen to his music, and it was amazing. She never let anyone listen to her music, and yet she let him.

They had something special, only they didn't see it.

Jesse Swanson was a lot of things. Compulsive list maker, womaniser, movie buff- but he had the world at his feet.

Only he didn't see that.

Jesse Swanson saw the world the way he wanted to see it, and in his eyes, the world was against him.