Warning: Recreational use of marijuana

It's a bad idea, she knows, but she is trying the whole letting go approach, and it's been going well. It has been a month since she puked her guts out.

And you do stuff at road trips that you normally won't do. That is what road trips are for.

So when the other Bellas burst into the motel room she shares with Chloe accompanied by a bag of marijuana, she tries her best not to grab it from Lilly's hand and flush it down the toilet. (Also, she is afraid that it might lead to her quiet death.)

"This should be fun," Cynthia Rose says when Chloe tells them that Aubrey has never been high before. "The first time is always the best."

They let her take the first hit (is that what it's called?). And the second because apparently she didn't inhale the smoke properly. And the third because you should take in as much as you possibly can. And the forth just because.

She doesn't feel anything when she passes the joint to Stacie who is sitting across her, and starts to feel smug.

But then it hits her and she wonders if that's why it's called a hit.

Her surrounding doesn't spin like in the movies. It is more like a wobble.

Stacie looks at her and asks, "How are you feeling?"

"Wobb…" she can't get the word out. "Wobb…" she tries again and ends up with, "Wobblegh."

She starts laughing and everyone laughs too. She wonders if everyone is feeling the same way. They don't look like it.

Especially Chloe. Chloe looks calm even though Aubrey is pretty sure she inhaled as much as her.

She touches Chloe's face to make sure what she is seeing is real.

Chloe just smiles. She doesn't even swat her hand away. "What's up, Bree?"

"It looks different," Aubrey mutters, "but feels the same."

That seems to amuse everyone even more. It pleases her. The only other time they were this entertained by her was when they watched the video of her spraying the first three rows of the ICCA finals audience with her lunch.

She looks around the room to draw in the glory from the attention she is getting.

Then her gaze drops at Beca. Beca smiles. Oh wow, Aubrey thinks, that is the first time Beca smiles at her willingly, and sincerely.

It's a pretty smile, like the rest of her face. She wonders how it tastes, especially those lips.

She really wants to taste those lips. But can she move? She has been sitting on this spot for too long and she isn't sure if she even has limbs.

Okay, just try it Aubrey. She places her palms on the floor. Okay now, knees. Yep, they're there. Good. All that is left is to crawl sneakily towards Beca. But once she has moved, she realizes that it is not going to work because everyone's head has turned towards her.

And oh god, what was she about to do?

That was really stupid.

She can't kiss Beca. Beca's…Beca. She can't kiss Beca.

She jumps to her feet, and maybe a little too fast, because now her world is really spinning.

Chloe rises next to her and presses on her shoulders to steady her. "You okay, Bree?"

"I'm fine," she mutters. "I just need some fresh air."

She doesn't like this. Letting go is one thing, but losing control of her mind like that, it's…that's too far outside of her comfort zone.

Like the moon is from where she is standing.

It's pretty tonight. The moon. How can it glow like that? It's just a huge rock in space.

Before her brain can arrive to the obvious conclusion that it is reflecting light from the sun, she is interrupted by a question, "Are you sure you're okay?"

She expects to find Chloe when she turns, but finds Beca instead.

"My thoughts are drifting too fast," she says. "I'm not very…comfortable with that."

"Don't worry," Beca says, leaning on the wall next to her, "you won't lose your mind."

Aubrey knows that. She knows how losing feels like. She feels it everytime food she thought she had digested pushes up against her esophagus. This is not losing.

This is a stupid mistake, one she could have avoided if she hadn't succumbed to curiosity and peer pressure.

She wants to tell that to Beca but is distracted by her face again. Aubrey knows she is staring but she can't look away.

"I wanted to kiss you just now," the words tumble out of her lips before she can stop it.

Beca chuckles. "Why didn't you?"

"Because you're Beca."

"Try not to sound too mortified," Beca says, smiling that smile that usually annoys Aubrey. But tonight, it looks almost adorable.

The urge to kiss Beca is returning.

"I want to kiss you now," Aubrey says, but this time it's her saying it, not a runaway thought she can't catch.

Beca's eyes shift downwards. "Really?"

Aubrey tilts her head sideways to catch Beca's eyes. "Uh-huh."

When Beca doesn't look up, she straightens her back against the wall again. "I think I'm going to sleep this off," she says, but doesn't move because from the laughter that is echoing from her room, it doesn't look like the party is going to end soon. (She vaguely recalls someone taking out a bong before she left.)

"You can sleep in my room," Beca offers after ten seconds of silence.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Beca nods.

After that, Aubrey's mind starts to drift again. The next thing she knows, Beca is tucking her in.

"Never again," she murmurs.

"I know," Beca says, smoothing out the corner of the duvet to her left. "Good night, Aubrey."

And as soon as Beca utters her name, the control she has been trying so hard to exercise on her body and mind all night goes out the window.

Beca, to Aubrey's surprise, reciprocates as eagerly as her. And the high from tasting Beca's lips, her mouth, her tongue, is so much better than the high from the weed.

The next morning when she wakes up, she realizes that she can keep her promise to never get high on any kind of drugs ever again, except Beca. Beca Mitchell, she decides, is too powerful a drug to avoid.