PART I
"You did a number on me,
But honestly baby, who's counting?"
So It Goes- Taylor Swift
Definition of ECSTASY: an emotional frenzy or trancelike state, originally one involving an experience of mystic self-transcendence.
All he remembered from that night was her.
When Bumper and Donald gave him the rundown of the night before, after he woke up begging for aspirin and holding his head in agony, he almost didn't believe them. Apparently when deciding to celebrate Jesse's manager extending the deadline for his new demo (after weeks of pitiful and downright embarrassing pleading), the night had led them to the local karaoke bar where one shot led to another shot, which led to another shot…
Which led to a bottle?
Anyways, as the story goes, Jesse 'Lightweight' Swanson finally works up the nerve to talk to the beautiful yet intimidating girl at the bar around shot number three. They talk for three hours while Donald and Bumper hog the karaoke machine behind him, and while Bumper starts stripping in the middle of Cyndi Lauper's Time After Time (much to the dismay of the bar patrons), Jesse and the girl from the bar disappear.
In the morning, after chucking a bottle of Tylenol at his head and taking a few blackmail pictures of him curled up and clutching his guitar for emotional support, Bumper and Donald chalked his experience up to a one night stand that he would probably forget about by the end of the week.
If only it were that simple.
SMOKEY'S KARAOKE BAR—FRIDAY, 10:37 P.M.
He sits down at the bar, already feeling loose after Donald and Bumper screeched at him until he downed his third shot within the last thirty minutes (peer pressure is real, okay?). He motions for the bartender to slide him a beer, looking down the rest of the bar as he does so, when a pale shoulder adorned with intricate and delicate flowers catches his attention.
He follows the curve of the shoulder up to a set of piercing blue eyes that lock onto his. He can't quite figure out why, but he suddenly feels like he's drowning in the best possible way. He cracks a lopsided smile at the beautiful girl seated at the bar next to him, who quickly smiles to herself before breaking their stare and reaching for her drink.
Now, there's a couple of things that he figures out in that moment. One, he really wants this girl's number. Two, going by his track record, she is most likely with someone, or not interested and most definitely out of his league (that last revelation is a bit depressing, he will admit).
Third, and most importantly, that last shot most definitely just kicked in.
And he has nothing to lose.
He takes a deep breath and clears his throat before rolling up his sleeve. This catches the blue-eyed girl's attention and she flicks her gaze back over to him.
"So," he begins, motioning to a small scar on his arm, "When I was thirteen, my best friend Benji and I went to magic camp and he tried to saw me in half." The girl's mouth turns up ever-so-slightly at the corners at this revelation. This gives him the courage that he needs to keep going.
"He got too excited though and didn't read the manual, so I'm just in this box trying not to freak out because he can't find the saw or the key. And I think to myself, 'you know what Jesse, you're about to perform the greatest magic trick of all time.'"
The girl quirks one eyebrow up and Jesse's grin only widens.
"So I find this secret compartment in the box to crawl out of that's like the size of a shoebox and I squeeze through without Benji or my instructor noticing, and then next thing they know, I reappear on the other side of the room feeling really satisfied with myself." Jesse gestured back down to the small scar on his arm before meeting the girl's gaze again. Her eyes follow his movements and he feels a small flicker of hope build in his chest.
"They're both staring at me like they've seen a ghost and I'm so sure that it's because I've just pulled off the greatest magic trick of all time, but in all actuality they're staring because I cut my arm trying to crawl out of the box and I'm bleeding everywhere."
The girl snorted and sipped her drink.
"Question, do you tell every stranger you happen upon this fascinating story?"
"I don't know, I read on Wikihow that the best way to get a pretty girl to notice you was to impress her."
"Smooth."
"Was it?"
"Not really."
"I figured."
The girl stifles a grin and moves to take another sip of her drink. Jesse scoots his stool closer and leans forward resting his elbows on the bar so he can drown in those eyes again. He's always been a glutton for punishment.
"I'm Jesse, by the way."
"I know." Bar Girl says after she swallows.
He imagines the confused look on his face was either really funny, or really fucking stupid looking because she lets out a short laugh before she continues.
"You mentioned it while you were monologue-ing back there."
Oh, okay cool. Only slightly embarrassing. Cool, cool, cool.
"Theatre kid?"
He was kind of caught off guard by her sudden question. Up to this point, the conversation had been one sided and her engagement literally made him so excited that he damn near fell off of his stool.
He didn't, thank god. Instead, he just focused in on those eyes again. So fucking blue. With a hint of brown around the edges…oh wait, shit. She asked him a question, didn't she? Shit shit shit shit—
"Huh?" he blurted out. He noticed her bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.
"My friend Chloe's a drama teacher. She goes off onto dramatic tangents a lot. You remind me of her. You'd probably like her actually, I'm sure she's around here somewhere—"
No, no he doesn't want to talk to Chloe—ah, shit. Now Bar Girl's swiveling in her seat to seek out her friend. It's crunch time, Swanson. Focus.
"No! I-I mean um, yeah, I was in theatre for a little while in high school. I feel like that was an everyone kind of thing though." Bar Girl spins back around to meet his gaze, apparently forgetting about her search for her friend.
"Not me." She said with artificial gusto, stirring her drink with her straw, her eyes now trained on the swirling ice. Jesse smiles and turns more fully toward her, scanning her over with a quick glance.
"Ah, so let me guess. Music note tattoos, tapping a beat on the bar, alternative indie vibe…"
Bar Girl rolls her eyes at this, but smiles anyway.
"My spidey senses are telling me that you were a—drumroll please. Thrrrrrrrr…"
He laughs out loud at Bar Girl's raised eyebrow and refusal to participate.
"…band geek! You were totally a band geek, weren't you? What instrument did you play? I bet it was the clarinet. Maybe the tuba…"
Bar Girl laughs as she chews on a piece of ice.
"Okay, first of all, I was not a geek. Not even close. I was so cool."
"I believe it." He laughs.
"Second, I played the flute, thank you very much."
"The noblest of the woodwind instruments."
"Third, and most importantly, I was in band against my will. Mom's orders." She gave him a half smile as she stirred her ice again.
"Not a music person, I take it?" he asks.
"Wrong again, stranger." She quips, crossing one leg over the other. "I love music. Just not really into the whole sweaty uniform, five-mile march, percussion section drama thing."
"Well, you know at least I got the music thing right."
"You cheater, you looked at my tattoo."
"I didn't have to. You put out a vibe. I don't really know how to describe it."
"A good vibe, I hope."
"Definitely a good vibe."
They shared a smile then. Small on her part, but enough to make the sound of the obnoxious drunks crooning to My Heart Will Go On fade to a quiet hum around them.
"So I guess now would be the time to mention that I, myself am a musician."
"You know, for some reason that sounds like something your Wikihow suggested you say to pick up pretty girls."
"The Wikihow may have suggested it. It just so happens to be helpful that it's true. I play guitar."
"Wow." She raised her eyebrows at this, clearly amused.
"And sing."
"Wow." She widened her eyes in disbelief, her heavy sarcastic tone seeping out of that beautiful mouth.
"I know."
"I'm literally so turned on right now." She deadpanned.
"Oh, thank God!" He nodded as a hearty laugh spilled out of his mouth.
"My panties? They're gone. Completely disintegrated."
"All part of my master plan."
"Oh, a very successful plan, I'm sure. I'm positive that the musician line makes all the girls swoon."
Jesse laughs internally. The only women that swooned when he told them about his record deal were his mom and his great-aunt Arlene. He'd take what he could get from her though, even if it was dripping in sarcasm.
"Eh, it's not exactly the catch-all that you'd think. Most people when they hear amateur musician, they immediately think starving artist." He'd like to think that that came across as playful, but he could taste the bitterness of the words on his tongue as he took a sip of his beer.
Bar Girl pursed her lips, her stare now burning the side of his head. "Is it what you want?"
"What?"
"Music. Is it what you want to do?"
He thought about it for a second. He hated living paycheck to paycheck, and sharing an apartment with fucking Bumper of all people, and working ten hour shifts at the diner and looking forward to concerned calls from his grandfather asking when he was going to "get a real job"…
But when he was sitting down, a guitar in hand and a notebook in his lap, he knew deep down that he wouldn't trade it.
"Yeah. It is."
"Then do it. It's that simple. Once you start worrying about what others want or expect from you, it's easy to forget what you really want. Or why you even wanted it in the first place."
He stares at her for a long moment. He wasn't sure if it was just the cheap tequila coursing through his veins, but he couldn't help but wonder how this beautiful, intimidating woman managed to call him out on his deepest fears and soothe the sting of her brutal honesty all at once.
"You sound like you've had experience with this sort of thing."
"Maybe not being a starving artist specifically, but the whole 'living up to someone else's expectations' kind of thing? Oh yeah. Unlike being a theatre kid, that is most definitely an everyone kind of thing. Or at least pretty close."
"You're really impressive, did you know that?"
"I'm just saying that I get it. Music's my thing too, dude. I mean, not exactly in the same way as you Mr. Hotshot-Singer-Guitar Player, but…"
She trails off, but he was still hooked on her every word. He could see in her eyes that she had a story, and he wanted to be the one to read every chapter.
"You and I have a lot in common, you know?"
"Do we now?"
"It's a good thing that we're gonna be best friends. And or lovers."
Bar Girl nearly chokes on her drink at this.
"Please don't say lovers. I will literally throw all of my spare change into your guitar case if you promise not to say that again."
"Well that's a bonus. There's only one thing that I could think of that could be better than that."
Bar Girl raises an eyebrow once again, challenging him.
"And what's that?"
"Your name."
The corners of his mouth pull into a lopsided grin as he notices a light flush bloom across the Bar Girl's cheeks. She bites her lip at this before sending him a full smile for the first time that evening. He was intoxicated.
"You'll have to try harder than that, stranger." She said, a twinkle in her eye as her stare locked on his while taking a sip of her drink.
Well, it was official. He was drunk. But being there with this girl and her beautiful eyes and her sharp tongue and her kind smile that somehow soothed the bite of her words…well he couldn't help but think it wasn't even the shots that were making him feel so lightheaded right about now. As for the name thing, it's not like he was worried.
He had always been a try-hard in high school.
"Okay, then what about your drink order? I happen to be an esteemed junior-high certified magician. If I can guess your drink order, can I buy you another one?"
First came her drink order.
Rum and Cherry Coke.
Then, as the two of them lay intertwined under his sheets several hours later, short of breath and pressing light kisses into skin, came the name.
Beca. Just Beca.
It was somehow the sweetest sound that he had heard all night.
"Play me a song, stranger?"
He woke up in a cold sweat.
Or at least, he had assumed it was sweat until he opened his eyes and shot up to find a grinning Bumper standing two feet away from his pillow holding a now-empty bottle of ice water.
Dick.
"Up and at it Swanson! It's your day as laundry bitch, and my briefs are not gonna wash themselves."
Jesse groaned and rolled his head into his now sopping wet pillow, trying to ignore the sounds of Bumper mouth-trumpeting Reveille and the feeling of Bumper jumping up and down at the foot of his bed and pelting him with aspirin tablets. Dear god, he needed to move out.
Jesse reached his arm over blindly, looking for a pillow to throw, but instead he felt a cool metal string lightly scratch the skin of his arm. He sat up enough for the rest of his guitar to come into view, buried in the sheets.
"What the…"
"Yeah, you know I was wondering about that. I know that you're really into your music or whatever, but I figured you at least had enough game to where you didn't have to sleep with your guitar. I guess that we can't all be lady-killers though."
"No dude, I didn't…" He was really racking his brain here. He knew that she had to be real, but there was no trace of her left anywhere. "There was a girl."
"What girl?" Donald asked, as he wandered into the room, looking just as disheveled as Jesse.
"The girl. She was here." He knew he wasn't crazy, right? There's no way that his memory was active enough for him to dream up spending the night with an imaginary person. An imaginary, beautiful, witty, interesting—
"Well…" Bumper began with a patronizing tone, looking at him with wide eyes. "There's no girl here now…but you know, if you listen closely, you can hear the sounds of the washing machine…that isn't running. Detergent's on the shelf bitch, and don't forget that I like my shit line dried."
Bumper threw another handful of aspirin at his head before dancing out of the room with way too much zest for a man who wore Super Smash Bros briefs. (I mean, Jesse did too from time to time, but at least his were the right size for his body.) Donald ventured a little bit further into the room, quickly pulling out his phone to snap a picture of Jesse in his misery. He held his phone up to check out the screen, laughing at the image.
"Don't worry about it man, tequila gets the best of everybody. Last time I had some, I woke up chained to my ex-girlfriend's mailbox. With like, furry handcuffs and shit. Kinky stuff, man."
Donald sat down tentatively on the foot of his bed, watching Jesse rub his temple, his eyes squinted as if he was trying so hard to remember something. He finally dropped his hands and peeked up at Donald with an exasperated look on his face.
"Dude, I'm not crazy. There was a girl here." He said with conviction. Donald scratched his own head then, trying to recall exactly when he had lost Jesse last night.
"I mean, I saw you talking to this girl a couple times last night, but you went totally AWOL, so I didn't see you leave with anybody. And there was no one here when I got up so…" He trailed off, throwing his hands in the air with a slight shrug as he got up and made his way out of the room.
Jesse flopped back into his pillows in frustration, rolling over to the only dry spot that he could find. He pressed his nose to the pillow…
…to be greeted with the light scent of jasmine faintly hitting his nostrils.
He shot up again, staring at the pillow as if it held all of the answers to the universe. And perhaps the mystery girl's phone number. That was probably a little bit ambitious to be honest, but he was desperate and hungover. A deadly combination.
He got out of bed with a quiet urgency, searching around his room for any clue that the mystery girl may have left behind. He ran his hands through his hair, frustrated when he came up short.
(Of course, this wouldn't have been a problem if he had gotten her fucking phone number, but whatever. Nice one Swanson.)
Though despite how pissed he was at himself for not taking down her number last night, he couldn't help but think that she wouldn't have given it to him anyways. Bar Girl didn't seem like she would want to be found. I mean, it was an adventure in itself just to get her name—
Beca.
That was it. Just Beca. Beca who liked Rum and Cherry Coke.
He smiled to himself as he grabbed his guitar in one hand, and the pillow in another. He plopped down in the chair in the corner and began to pluck out a melody.
He found himself humming a few chords under his breath, finally finding a riff that would stick.
"Hey, stranger…"
Surprise, bitch.
I bet you thought you'd seen the last of me.
(Considering it's been like three years, I wouldn't be surprised if you thought you'd seen the last of me. I thought I'd seen the last of me tbh.)
BUT HEY ANYWAYS, this is a three-parter that I'm really excited about! The bare-bones outline of this has been chilling in my Dropbox since I posted the first chapter of Heal like eighty years ago, but I finally got the courage to do something with it. Title comes from Taylor Swift's 'So It Goes,' which actually lowkey inspired me to pick this up. It just has the aesthetic for this story that I always wanted. I definitely recommend giving it a listen.
Next part coming soon guys, xoxo