Beca Mitchell was careful. She was steady, she was sure, and she was thoughtful. Careful. She had been "accepted" at Barden University, although she had never applied, but it was a condition her father had for her to get an education before he flew her out to Los Angeles to pursue her career (which, she noted with a scrunched nose to indicate her distaste, he continued to call a hobby) as a disk jockey. So everything would pan out. She just needed to buckle down, do some classwork, and haul ass out of town. Careful. Calculated. She didn't need to talk to anyone, or make friends, or even find a date to any event; Beca was ridiculously fine with her roommate, an Asian girl who seemed even bitterer than she was. She could stay in her shell for a while. That would be okay. She thought it would be okay. Until she took her first shower in her dorm building and thought she might need the rape whistle she left in her room because a certain red-headed senior practically ripped the shower curtain off the rod and forced her to sing – naked – and promise to audition for an a cappella group. She vowed to never sing in the showers again, since that was not careful.
"What are you doing?" a voice chirped, and Beca sighed heavily through her teeth. She felt the body heat of the woman next to her, but refused to turn her head. She let her eyes flicker to the side briefly to see her assailant in all her perky glory, watching her with a pair of the biggest blue doe eyes she had ever seen. Instead of getting irritated or even picking up a social cue that Beca herself would grasp, Chloe Beale just waited with an irritatingly patient smile and unwavering eyes that tracked Beca's face and then looked down at the laptop almost expectantly.
"I was being alone." Chloe never seemed bothered by the quips that Beca had at the ready, and always seemed undeterred by her walls, fences, and the ditch she used to protect herself. A muscle jumped in Beca's cheek as she set her jaw and shut her Macbook slowly, turning her head to look at the girl with the fire engine-red hair and the ivory skin with the blue eyes that were so wide and innocent and absorbent. She never seemed to tire of studying people or learning about them… or paying any regard to their boundaries. "Before practice," Beca added, raising her brows. "When I can't be alone. Because I like being alone. It's my thing."
Chloe inclined her head and tilted it a little bit, moving a bit but only to cross her legs and lean against the tree Beca was seated under. "What were you working on?" Beca closed her eyes a few seconds longer than it took to blink, trying not to roll them at Chloe. When she opened them, the same sweet, expectant face was trained to hers, just… waiting again. Always waiting. Always patient. "Was it a paper? What classes are you taking this semester?"
"No. It wasn't a paper. I was just working." The brunette hoped her flat tone would aid in indicating her lack of desire to be sociable, but then again, hoping never got her far.
"It's almost time for practice; I gotta be there early with Aubrey. I'll see you in a few!" Chloe reached forward to pat Beca's knee, earning a skeptical look, before bouncing away towards the auditorium they practiced in. Beca couldn't help the upward tilt of her lips, even if she didn't notice at first, as she packed up and tugged down her flannel sleeves once she'd stood and ambled off in the same direction with her computer in her gym bag, hung over her shoulder.
The hand motions irritated Beca more than wearing the tights she used for rehearsals. Her teeth gritted as Aubrey came dangerously close to correcting her physically, but skipped over her and went to Stacie instead, prying the other girl's hands off of her breasts. Beca set her jaw and breathed heavily through her gritted teeth, extraordinarily unhappy with the glares she was receiving from the uppity blond. (Not enough enthusiasm! God, how aca-incompetent could she be!?) The brunette stiffened, pausing when arms circled her and gentle hands guided her own by her wrists. "It's me," a soft voice sounded in her ears, and Chloe propped her chin gently on Beca's stiff shoulder. "You can relax."
"I've got it down," Beca managed through gritted teeth, finding herself working harder to resist than to give into the calming smell of Chloe's shampoo and her fingers on her skin. "You can let go."
"I know."