A place to crash
I got you
No need to ask
I got you
Just get on the phone
I got you
Come and pick you up if I have to
"Chloe, can you come get me?" Her voice cracks at the end, giving away her feeble attempt at sounding fine. She sounds so broken that I don't want to hang up with her, but before I am able to convince her otherwise, I hear a choked sob and the other line goes dead. I hastily throw my jacket on and some shoes, realizing she never told me where she was. Looking back at my phone, I intend to hit redial but it buzzes, notifying me of a text message, the contents a series of number and words indicating an address. Aubrey gives me a quizzical look, but I have no time to answer, only offering a cryptically concerned expression before I'm out the door.
The campus is so quiet, as a light snow falls, blanketing the town in silence. I'm about 3 blocks away from my intended destination when I see a small figure walking in my direction. When I realize it's Beca, I stop the car, not bothering to drive all the way up to her for some reason. I don't even close the door once I exit the vehicle, choosing to immediately sprint towards her. The cold has taken my breath away, burning my lungs, and when I reach her, I'm panting a little bit, the frigid air evaporating my hot breath. She doesn't look at me at first, her eyes downcast. She's not even wearing a coat, her small frame only dressed in her signature combat boots, jeans, and a hoodie. I quickly usher her to the warm confines of my car. Once I'm seated back in front of the steering wheel, I take a moment to rub my gloveless hands together, blowing hot air into them. She continues her silent treatment, the only sign of life being her shivering body.
I don't really know what to say, so I put the car in gear and made my way back to campus. I throw on some Ray LaMontagne to fill the silence, as well as offer some soothing sounds, knowing she doesn't need me to say anything anyway. Her hand finds mine halfway into the drive, the coldness of her flesh startling me more than her active choice to initiate physical contact, especially when she's in a state like this. I'm used to the shutting down, the pushing away, the locked doors. I know I probably shouldn't, considering she has clearly had a terrible night, but a smile creeps across my face. She may not know, but that simple action means so much to me.
I give her the space to change into some pajamas, which I didn't even have to let her borrow because she's here most of the time anyway, a random assortment of belongings have taken up permanent residence. I try not to worry about how long she's been in the bathroom, attempting to focus on the book I'm reading. I'm not sure how long it's been since I drifted off, but suddenly I feel the bed dip beside me and my glasses being gently removed from my face, as well as the book taken from my hands. She pulls the covers over both of us, and if I wasn't halfway in a dream state, I would have been able to know for sure if she really kissed me on the forehead or not. It felt real. I feel the spot on my forehead in the morning when I wake up, the space beside me now empty. I probably would have thought I dreamt the whole thing if not for the text message on my phone, the sender being none other than my elusive bedmate.
thank you.
It takes most of my effort to not call her and launch a full investigation. Judging from where I picked her up, I can only assume something went down, again, with her dad. Usually I would jump right in, armed with questions and ready to do what I can to make it all better. But this time felt different. Something worse happened this time. Beca knows I'm ready to listen when she's ready to talk, so I type out a few simple words, and hit send.
You're welcome. I'll always be there for you. xoxo
What's weird about it
Is we're right at the end
And mad about it
Just figured it out in my head
I'm proud to say
I got you
It's been about three weeks and it's as if that night never happened. She goes about her life in usual form, but there's a definite edge to her, which some might not pick up on, but I do. The first time I try and allude to an inquiry about it, she blows me off. I try to brush it off, but it hurts every time she refuses to open up to me. I felt special knowing she has at least made room for me inside her little Beca bubble. She may not know it, but I plan to pop that bubble one day. Because when she smiles, I feel whole. And when she smiles at me, I feel on top of the world.
I try three more times to get her to budge, but have no success. She cancels our dinner plans after my third attempt, citing "homework" as a reason. What worries me is not the lame excuse, but the fact that she has to know I would never buy that but can't even bother or care to actually try and convince me. We always made time for each other, even when she is knee-deep in Bellas set lists and running her radio show, and I am buried in grad school papers and TA responsibilities.
I have a lot of patience, more than most. I have a lot of positivity, more than most. I try not to sweat the small stuff, be an encourager, give freely of my time and self. And sure most people test that on a daily basis, as most don't live on that wavelength. And that's okay. But no other person has tested me more on those qualities of myself than Beca Mitchell.
She's officially shut me out for a week, when I'm lying on Aubrey's bed with tears streaming down my face.
"I just don't understand, Bree. Why doesn't she just talk to me? How can she just shut herself up like that?"
Aubrey offers a sympathetic look. "She hasn't mentioned anything about that night you picked her up in the middle of the street?"
"No!" I exclaim, exasperated. "She's basically acting like it never happened."
I notice Aubrey go somewhere else for a moment and I question her on it.
"What is it?"
"Hmm? Oh...nothing. It's nothing."
"Aubrey..."
She looks at me, concerned and sad.
"It's just," she begins. "Now don't freak out. If I wasn't genuinely concerned about her, I would have already kicked her little tiny ass."
"For God's sake, Aubrey, just tell me."
"Cynthia-Rose came to me a few days ago."
I nod, urging her to continue.
"And well, it was about Beca."
"O-kay, what was it about?"
Aubrey sighs, and I can tell she's still unsure about sharing this information with me.
"Aubrey, please. Spit it out, you're killing me."
"Well apparently, Cynthia had arrived at the rehearsal space earlier than normal. Beca was already there. But she wasn't going over the plan for practice that day. She was crying. Well, sobbing rather, according to Cynthia. She was in quite the state I guess."
I feel my chest tighten and my heart sink as each word passes through Aubrey's lips. Fresh tears spill down my cheeks.
"Cynthia Rose tried to talk to her, but the second she opened up her mouth and Beca realized she was there, Beca shut down. She even tried to hide the fact that she was obviously crying. She refused to talk about it and when Cynthia asked if she should, um...call...you, hoping you'd be able to get through to her, Beca said, absolutely not. She, um, she said didn't want to see you and to not tell anyone about this. I guess she just ran out after that and hasn't shown up to practice in like three days."
Aubrey looks at me, as if I'm about to break. And honestly, it feels like I am about to. Beca and I didn't even have a fight, and she's shutting me out. She's specifically telling other people that she doesn't want to see or talk to me. Something is hurting her, and if she won't even talk to me...well, the thought of that makes my stomach hurt.
I stand up, a little too fast because I feel dizzy for a moment, but when I regain my composure, I'm not only still sad, but angry. Angry because all she has to do is ask for help and I'll help. But she won't. "I have to go find her, Bree. I'm going to make her tell me what's going on with her whether she likes it or not."
"Chloe I," Aubrey begins, clearly ready to dissuade me, but the next words out of her mouth are the opposite of that. "Call me if you need anything, okay?"
I smile. "Thanks Bree." And with that I'm hurling out of my apartment, and standing in front of Beca's single dorm room in an impressive amount of time.
Go ahead and say goodbye
I'll be alright
Go ahead and make me cry
I'll be alright
And when you need a place to run to
For better for worse
I got you
I got you
I press my ear to the door, listening for signs of life before I knock. When I hear the start and stop of the middle of song, I know she's in there mixing.
"Beca, it's me. Can I come in?"
Silence. I start to think I imagined the sound, when a small voice cuts through the wood barrier.
"Sorry, Chlo. I'm studying, big test tomorrow."
"It's Saturday tomorrow, Becs. Try another excuse."
Another agonizing stretch of silence. I decide to speak first again.
"I'll just wait out here, until you open this door. You can't stay in there forever."
I start to think she's actually going to test me on that, when the door suddenly opens, revealing the one and only, Beca Mitchell. It's a bit weird seeing her, after being shut out for a week, no technological contact, no physical contact, nothing.
"Hey," I finally say, although it comes out more breathy than I mean for it to be.
"What do you want?" she asks in a harsh tone which takes me aback for a moment.
"You've been ignoring me. Can we talk?"
She meets my eyes and it takes all my strength not to just wrap her up in a hug, because she just looks so...lost.
"I've just been busy," she finally says, shrugging her shoulders, before she walks away and resumes her position in front of her computer. She turns her attention to her computer screen and when she moves to put headphones on, I decide to not play nice anymore. Now she's just being blatantly rude.
"Too busy what, Beca?" I ask, entering the room and closing the door behind me. "Too busy holing up in your room? Too busy ignoring me? Too busy skipping Bellas rehearsals?"
Her head snaps over to me, an unreadable expression on her face. She honestly looks like she might hit me.
"Who told you I wasn't going to rehearsals?"
"Doesn't matter," I reply as I walk over to her. "What matters is you have friends who are worried about you and want to be there for you. Friends like me, for example. I miss you, Beca. Why have you been ignoring me?"
She clenches her jaw and looks away. I can tell she's using all her strength to hold back any tears, or emotion for that matter. It must be painful to do that, I think. And exhausting.
I sigh, and run my fingers through my hair. She looks so defeated. She looks like all she wants to do is spill her guts, but at the same time she looks like she'll do anything to keep it all contained. I gently lead her over to the bed, which she surprisingly lets me do. I sit down next to her, taking one of her hands in my own. She hangs her head, and for a little while the only sound heard in the room is our soft breathing.
"Bec, please talk to me. I'm worried about you."
Still nothing. I take my free hand and guide her face to look at me.
"What happened that night I picked you up?"
I internally chastise myself because the moment those words are out of my mouth, I can sense her already shutting down. She takes her hand from mine and turns away.
"Why can't you just drop it? Don't you think if I wanted or needed to talk about that, I would have?"
"No I don't, Beca. Because you keep everything bottled up! Sweetie, that's not good for you! I hate seeing you like this. I miss your smile and your laugh. I miss hanging out with you and cuddling with you. I miss the mixes you slip into my coat pockets and backpack and purses and wherever else you find a way to surprise me with them. Something is eating you up." I take a deep breath before going on. "I'm not saying you have to tell me, just please...talk to somebody! Get it out! Stop letting it weigh you down. I miss my friend," I finish, smiling weakly.
"Maybe this is just the way I am. I'm dark and sad, and a loner. I'm better alone. Maybe you should just forget about me."
"Is that what you really want? You want to just throw this friendship away? Because I don't! You're my best friend and I -"
"DON'T!"
Her sudden outburst startles me. She's looking at me square in the eye, and she looks terrified.
"What? What did I say?"
"Just stop pretending like you get anything out of this...friendship. And stop acting like you can fix everything. Some people can't be fixed! Just leave me ALONE!"
"No, Beca, I'm not going anywhere. You can push me away, but you're too important to me to just let you walk out of my life."
There's a war raging in her mind. I can see it on her face. She suddenly gets up and paces back and forth for a little bit. I feel like we're about to get somewhere when she stops and looks at me. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, but nothing comes out. A disappointed expression turns to anger, and soon her fists are clenched at her side.
I decide to close the distance between us again, moving to stand right in front of her. I take her hands, weaving her fingers with mine. Her breathing calms down and once again, I feel like some walls are about to come crumbling down. I decide on another bold move and wrap my arms around her, enveloping her in a tight embrace.
She lets me hold her for only a second before she's untangling herself from my arms.
"Beca..."
"Stop Chloe. Just leave, please." Her voice is cold, detached.
I steps towards her again, pleading. "Please, I'm worried about you."
"Chloe, back off."
I don't listen and place my hands on her side of her arms, poised to resist her insistence on shutting me out. That's when she snaps.
"STOP!" she shouts, and I feel myself getting shoved hard. I stumble backwards, falling onto the floor. I first register the pain in my ass, then I look up at Beca to find a horrified expression on her face.
"Chloe, I-I-I-I'm sorry, I, um, I didn't mean to do that."
We've had our rough patches, sure. It took a while before she was comfortable with my more hands-on friendship. But the closer we got, the more she accepted my hugs and physical closeness. She even seemed to be comforted by a hug. But this was something new. This outburst was something I don't quite know how to deal with. I can't help someone who doesn't want it. But Beca's my best friend, she's my unexpected someone. She blew into my life just like I blew into hers. And I need her. And she needs me, even if she won't admit it.
I pick myself up and we spend a few moments in awkward silence. She makes a few motions towards me, like she wants to hug me or grab my hand or just do something, anything. But ultimately, she's frozen in her spot, unmoving.
"Beca," I begin, but pause to collect my thoughts. "I don't know what's going on with you right now, but you're my friend and I love you and I want so badly for you to just open up and spill your guts, and cry and yell and do whatever you need to get out whatever is eating you up. But I can't make you do anything you don't want to do. It kills me to see you like this. But you have to choose for yourself. So when you make that decision, I'll be here. I'll always be here."
Her eyes are locked on mine. Sad, desperate eyes. Stubborn eyes. Lost eyes. I offer a smile as a peace offering, hoping she'll take my words to heart. And then I leave. I leave her to make the choice to let me in or push me away. I hold my tears until I'm out the door and outside her building.
Aubrey's home, and she just hugs me as I cry. As I mourn the possible loss of my best friend. Because I truly don't know what she's going to choose. I'm not going to give up on her. I just hope she won't give up on me.
Ain't falling apart, or bitter
Let's be bigger than that and remember
The cooling outdoor when you're all alone
We'll go on surviving
No drama, no need for a show
Just wanna say
I got you
The days pass in normal fashion. I keep my word and keep my distance from Beca. All I offer are one or two encouraging text messages each day, reminding her that I'm still there. That I will always be there for her. She doesn't reply, but I may have creepily spotted her out and about and sent her a well timed text message, so I can see her response. And the smile on her face reassures me that not all is lost.
Thank God for Aubrey. Most people in her, for lack of better words, position, may feel threatened or insecure. But she knows what I am to her and what she is to me. She's solid. She knows that Beca being a pain in the ass last year was one of the things that brought us closer together, and helped mend some of the cracks in our relationship. She's supportive and she just gets what Beca is to me. More than anybody, really. It's kind of scary. She starts suggesting things that at first sound crazy, but the more I think about it and the less I try to rationalize it, the more it makes sense. And that's terrifying. And lovely. And terrifying. And oh God, I'm in love with her. I'm in love with Beca.
Go ahead and say goodbye
I'll be alright
Go ahead and make me cry
I'll be alright
And when you need a place to run to
For better for worse
I got you
Coming to the realization that I'm in love with Beca Mitchell has certainly thrown a wrench in, well, everything. Suddenly it wasn't about just getting my friend back, but not losing the possible love of my life. I mean, I'm only 22 so...it's not like there's any rush I suppose, but when I think about Beca and I, together, I have this sense of clarity. I've known I was attracted to girls, physically and emotionally, more than boys for a while now, but no one ever stuck. I've always been an open and loving person, blurring boundary lines in almost every situation. It was just how I expressed myself. I practically embodied empathy. I felt, a lot. Recognizing that quality in myself allowed me to understand how to deal with emotions and navigate the treacherous waters that are, feelings.
So how the hell did I fall in love with a person who acts like she is allergic to feelings? Who would prefer to not feel anything at all. Who wants nothing more than to numb that pain. I don't operate that way. I can't. But I'm not sure I can live without this girl either.
Shit.
Go ahead and say goodbye (go ahead)
I'll be alright (say goodbye)
Go ahead and make me cry
I'll be alright
And when you need a place to run to
For better for worse
I got you
I just about tumble right out of bed, startled from the loud buzzing on my nightstand. I realize it's my cell phone and hastily reach out to grab it, not even bothering to look at the caller ID.
"Hello?" I manage to rasp out, although it comes out in more of a mumble. The voice on the other end wakes me up faster than if an ice cold bucket of water were to be thrown on me right now.
"Chloe, I -" She sounds so small.
"Where are you?"
Her voice is shaky and it takes her a beat to answer me. "S-same as before."
'I'll be there soon. Hang tight."
She mutters a weak "okay" and again, I'm reluctant to hang up but do anyway and I'm ready and out the door in minutes. I try and push all that's happened in the last few weeks, especially this whole I'm in love with Beca thing, out of my mind and focus on being there for whatever she needs right now.
This time I don't find her wandering the streets, but sitting on the stairs of a dark porch, hugging her knees. At least she has a coat on this time, I think. Her head snaps up when she sees my car pull into the driveway. I put the car in park, and turn off the headlights, but I don't get out right away. She doesn't immediately make a move either at first. The movement-sensory porch light that went on when I pulled up turns off, and she is now only illuminated by the light of the moon. It'd probably be poetic if the situation were to be a little different. Concluding that I'm going to have to probably drag her to the car, I get out and go over to her. I bend down so I can be eye level with her and the moment she looks at me, she breaks down, practically falling into me.
"Shh," I say, trying to soothe her. "I'm here. You're gonna be okay."
She mumbles something into my shoulder and I have to lean back and ask her to repeat it. And once again, my heart breaks.
"What's wrong with me, Chloe?"
'Cause this is love and life
And nothing we can both control
And if it don't feel right
You're not losing me by letting me know
I pull her back into me, tears now streaming down my cheeks as well. I place a kiss into her hair.
"Oh Beca...nothing is wrong with you. Why would you think that?"
She pulls back from me this time, her breaths coming in short gasps. Seeing the steam from her breath in the cold air reminds me that we're still outside in the freezing cold.
"Because I-I feel like I'm going crazy. And I can't keep people in my life, my own father h-hates me and...and I know you said you'll always be there, but how much longer can you really put up with my bullshit?"
I look at her, my forehead scrunched in thought. Wiping her tears away, I ask, "Let's say we go back to your place and continue this? Get out of the cold."
She begins to nod before she answers, eventually muttering a shaky, "okay." I smile and help her to her feet, leading her to the car like before.
Just like last time, I put on some mellow tunes. And just like last time, neither of us says anything. But unlike last time, she doesn't grab my hand.
I try not to think about that.
Once we get back to campus and into her room, it takes about 10 more agonizing minutes of silence before she talks.
"I needed to go back and get my jacket."
Not exactly what I thought would come out of her mouth first, but okay. I glance up at her, obviously confused.
"Sorry?"
"I left my jacket at my dads. That's why I went back there tonight. It's my favorite. It was my mom's when she was younger."
The mention of her mother really grabs my attention. She's never mentioned her, other than the fact that she and her dad are divorced and she hasn't seen her since.
"It's a cool jacket. I've always like it," I say.
A miniscule hint of a smile flashes on her face, but her face darkens so quickly it's almost like I imagined it.
"I left it there the last time, and...I just needed it back. It's all I have."
"It's not all you have, Bec. You have me, you know that right? And Aubrey, and Jesse. The rest of the Bellas."
Her eyes are downcast, focused on twirling one of the rings on her fingers, when she answers. "It's all I have of her, I mean."
I wait a moment, wanting to choose my words carefully and not push too hard, not lose the momentum we've got going, not lose this time with her.
"Was there a reason you left it there last time? Or did you just forget?"
She still doesn't look at me. "No."
"No?" I ask.
"I didn't forget."
"Oh, okay." I chew on my lip, contemplating my next move, but she beats me to it.
"I went over there, to my dads. I needed to tell him something." She has a very concentrated look on her face, her own bottom lip suddenly becoming as tasty as mine. "I needed to tell him something and he didn't want to hear."
Her face contorts, and her eyes well up with tears again. One leg shakes rapidly and she fidgets with her hands a lot.
And I just wait.
"I told him that I couldn't be in college anymore. That I'm just not cut out for it. That after this year, I am going to LA, with or without his help."
I try not to show my shock and sadness at this revelation. But the thought of her leaving me was almost too much to bare. I take a deep breath and encourage her to continue.
"He didn't like that. He started saying all these things to me...these terrible things. About me. About my mom. He blames me. He can't stand me. We haven't been good since...and now I know why."
"He blames you for what? The divorce?"
She sniffs and shakes her head, a whimper of a no escapes her mouth.
"I just told you they divorced because it's easier than the truth."
I take one of her hands in mine and thread our fingers together, urging her on. "And what's the truth?" I ask.
It's barely a whisper when she answers, and it's as if it physically pains her to utter these words. "That she's dead."
I choke on my breath for a moment, not expecting to get that answer. She keeps her head down, and she's just quiet for a bit.
"She was supposed to pick me up from music class. She never made it."
"Oh Beca, I'm so sorry. Why didn't you ever tell me the truth before now?"
She visibly flinches from me and she scrunches her face up in anger. "Because it was my fault, Chloe! I was pissed at my dad and didn't want him to get me and so my mom got me instead and she was killed because of it! Because of me! My dad can't even look at me. He blames me. I was a stupid kid holding a stupid grudge and she died because of it!" Her chest heaves in and out, she's got herself all worked up. I proceed carefully, choosing my words wisely.
"Beca. It was not your fault your mom died. Bad things happen and that was just a bad thing that happened to you. Not because of you. And your dad is wrong to blame you and hold it against you. I know it's easier said than done, but you have to believe me when I say it wasn't your fault. You can't blame yourself for this!"
She swallows hard and gets up from the bed, pacing back and forth a few times before coming to a stop in front of me.
"The first night I went over there was her birthday and he just...lost it. I know that he's blamed me from the day it happened but that was the first time he actually said something out loud. I've never seen him like that before. It was scary. He took out a box of old records that were my moms. We used to listen to them together. And he..." She trails off, tears now welling up in her eyes. "He started smashing them on the floor right in front of me."
I'm at a loss for words. What are the right words to even say in times like these? What do people want to hear to soothe their broken hearts and bruised souls? Before I can even formulate any sort of response, she continues. She's calmer, but it's a tired calm.
"After that I decided I just needed to leave. Leave everything behind here, the guilt, the shame, the blame, the pain. All of it. I just needed to go. Be in a place where I could forget about all of that."
"But you couldn't leave without your jacket, huh?"
She actually smiles for a moment when she answers, and emits something along the lines of a chuckle. "Right." It fades quickly though and she looks up at me sadly. "I don't know what I expected going back there and telling him all that. I guess I just wanted him to know he didn't have to worry about being reminded of his dead wife anymore, because I was leaving and he could just forget about me. But then suddenly it became about how it should have been me. And I'm a disappointment anyway. No daughter of his was going to be a college dropout..."
She shakes her head and runs her hands through her hair. I can tell she's exhausted.
"I told him to not consider me his daughter anymore. Then I called you."
I allow myself to move towards her and wrap my arms around her, holding her in a tight embrace.
"Oh Bec. You are not a disappointment. You are smart and so creative. You're sassy and funny and you're a really good listener. You're so intuitive, even if you don't think it. You have such a good heart, and you just bring a sense of calm and ease to everything. You're not crazy, you're just human. And sometimes it's hard to deal with what we're feeling. Believe me, I cry like 5 times a week, so if you're crazy then I'm crazy too." I feel her slightly shudder in my arms and hear a small chuckle.
"Your dad is an idiot and he's missing out."
"Thank Chloe," she mumbles into my shoulder, and we stay locked in each other's embrace for a few moments of silence.
"I'm going to miss you when you leave." I pull back, taking her face in my hands and just look at her. I know she's uncomfortable, but for the time being I don't care. I just can't imagine my life without her in it. I know her moving wouldn't end our friendship, but what am I supposed to do with all these I love Beca Mitchell feelings if she's thousands of miles away?
And then the most amazing and terrifying thing happens. In a moment her demeanor shifts and the way she's looking back at me suddenly startles me. Because it almost looks like the way I'm looking at her right now. I have to remind myself that I wasn't thinking out loud. That she can't possibly know what I'm thinking right now. That she can't possibly feel the same, because she's given no indication of that whatsoever. But then there's a movement from her, and it's almost as if she's leaning in. Then something starts ringing and she flinches back, stepping away from me. Someone is calling her phone but she ignores it after a quick glance at the screen. She clears her throat and smiles at me awkwardly.
"Just Jesse. I'll call him back later. Do you need to be up early?"
I shake my head, my mouth suddenly gone dry.
"Well, want to stay and get some sleep? I don't want you walking back to your apartment this late."
"So chivalrous," I tease, my voice annoyingly hoarse. She laughs, and grabs my hand, pulling me down on the bed. We situate ourselves side by side. I feel her take my hand in hers, and I get all warm and gooey inside again, just like that first time in the car. I turn my head to the side and look at her, surprised to find her already in the same position, looking right back at me.
"Thanks for tonight. For being here. And all those other times. I'm so sorry for yelling at you and pushing you. I, um -"
"Hey, it's forgotten. I forgive you. It's going to take a bit more than that to get rid of me." She smiles at that and I feel her thumb softly caressing my hand.
"I'll always be there for you, Beca. Believe that." She nods, biting her bottom lip, her forehead furrowed in thought, and she turns away from me. Soon both our breaths even out into a steady rhythm as we drift off into slumber.
Go ahead and say goodbye (say goodbye)
I'll be alright
Go ahead and make me cry
I'll be alright
And when you need a place to run to
For better for worse
I got you
When I wake up, the other side of the bed is empty, just like last time. Before my mind goes into panic mode, the doors swing opens and the object of my affection is standing before me with a brown paper bag and a couple cups of coffee. As well as a bright smile on her face. She stomps the dusting of snow off her boots, and moves towards me, setting the coffee and bag on the desk. I watch her shake off her jacket, hat, and gloves, and can't help but notice that there's something different with her. A bounce in her step. A lightness to the air.
When she turns back to me, the smile is still on her face and she wordlessly grabs the coffee and paper bag, finally settling back down next to me. She hands me one of the coffees and I inhale the rich aroma, the smell alone almost giving me a caffeine buzz. This is special coffee.
I break the silence with my approving moan. "Mmmm, I can't believe you trekked all the way across campus in the snow just to get the good stuff. Not that I don't appreciate it. But, you didn't have to do that."
She smiles that adorably crooked smile and shrugs. "Yeah well, I just wanted to say thanks again for everything. I'm so not good with words, so I'm hoping the coffee and bagel sandwiches speak for me."
"Bagel sandwiches?" I ask eagerly, and she laughs.
We eat and talk, the heaviness of last night, as well as the last few weeks, taking a backseat to the new morning. She talks a lot about LA and what she would do once she's out there and we just dream for a little while. It makes me sad to hear her talk about leaving, actually it breaks my freaking heart, but seeing the way her face lights up about it, how she looks freer and happier, it's worth my heartache. At least that's what I'll keep telling myself. Eventually I have to go, and I reluctantly leave, in favor of a shower and work to do. Before I walk through the door, I turn to back to her.
"I'm really happy for you Bec. I think you're going to kick ass in LA. Everything you could ever want is out there right? The music, the opportunity, the people, the fame..."
She smiles at me. And then it happens, again.
"Not everything," she practically whispers, her voice is so soft and earnest, her eyes trained on mine, saying everything those two words aren't.
And then for some reason, to which I'll never understand, I walk out the door.
Go ahead and say goodbye (go ahead)
I'll be alright (say goodbye)
Go ahead and make me cry
I'll be alright
And when you need a place to run to
For better for worse
I got you
"Not everything. That's what she said to me. Not everything. I mean you should have seen the way she was looking at me, Aubrey. Like she was begging me to understand. And I just left. I don't even know why I left! One minute I was standing there and the next I'm walking back here. What's wrong with me?"
I feel like I should be annoyed at the smirk Aubrey has on her face and the way she slowly shakes her head at me. But I'm too annoyed at myself to be annoyed with her cryptic reaction to my rant.
"Do you think she even meant anything by that? I mean I could totally just be reading too much into it, like always."
"Chloe."
"She probably just meant you can't possibly have everything you want in one place. Like come on, it's Beca. She's not exactly the glass half full kind of person."
"Chloeeee," Aubrey sing-songs.
I flop down on Aubrey's bed, letting out an exasperated sigh. "God, I feel like I'm in jr. high all over again, all insecure and unsure about someone's feelings. I mean, we're adults! I should just be able to walk up to her and be like, I like you, what do you think? Yes or no? Maybe we can go on a date, what are you thoughts on that?"
"Chloe..."
"Yes, that's what I'm gonna do. I'm just gonna waltz right up to her and lay it all out.'
"Chloe!"
"What?!"
"First of all, take a deep breath. Second of all, you need to stop. Stop over thinking."
"I know that's what I've been saying Aubrey, that I'm over thinking what she's saying and she's not into me at all and, -"
"That's not what I'm saying," Aubrey cuts in.
"What then? That I am seeing the signs right? Please say that's what you're saying because I don't think -"
"Oh my God, Chloe please stop talking."
I obey, a bit reluctantly but Aubrey is starting to look like she might strangle me if I don't.
"I think you need to tell Beca how you feel."
"Even though she's leaving?"
"Especially because she's leaving," Aubrey confirms. She scoots closer to me and pulls me up into a sitting position, both her hands going to each of my shoulders. "That girl is never going to make the first move. She's probably terrified of losing you as a friend or of her own feelings or something stupid."
"Hey!"
"You said it yourself! You're both adults...well adult enough to own up on your feelings for each other. So make it happen. And even if...even if, she's out of her mind and doesn't feel the same way, you guys will get through it. Beca loves you, in one way or another. Okay?"
She's right. We can get through it. I have to do this. I'm not wired to live in the abyss of what-if's. My and Beca's friendship is stronger than what we may or may not feel for each other. Right?
"Thanks, Aubrey. I don't know what I'd do without you." And I really mean that. Aubrey is that constant in my life. She lets me bounce and fly and ricochet, but she's always there to ground me when I need it. "I can do this, right?"
"Absolutely," she affirms confidently and I smile at that. Aubrey Posen doesn't bullshit, so...I have to believe it.
I look at the time on my phone, frowning when it tells me that Beca is at the radio station, probably for another couple hours. Not a prime location to spill my heart on the floor. I chew on my lip, lost in my thoughts. The thought of putting this off any longer doesn't sit so well with me, but I can't really barge in during her radio show.
"Can you turn her show on?"
"Sure," Aubrey says, pulling up the stations website where it also streams it's programming. I lay back down, smiling at the song that is currently playing, no doubt a one of a kind made by a certain brunette DJ. One of my favorites too. It ends and I'm prepared to hear the familiar voice float over the airwaves, but a much deeper voice rings through Aubrey's computer speakers.
"Hey nerds, this is Jesse filling in for Beca, who actually produced that last track. Hope you enjoyed it, because here's another one, comin atcha! And Beca...if you're listening to this, good luck!"
Another song starts up and I look at Aubrey quizzically, her own expression mirroring mine. I open my mouth to voice the inevitable question, but then there's a knock at the door and both our heads jerk in the direction of the offending noise, before simultaneously looking back at each other.
"Expecting anyone?" she asks and I shake my head.
"You?"
"Nope."
"Well who do you think it is?" I ask and she looks at me like I just asked her what 1 + 1 is.
"One way of finding out would be actually answering it."
"Why do I have to get it?" I don't even know why I suddenly care that she wants me to get it, but I challenge her anyways. She rolls her eyes and sighs.
"Because I'm pretty sure it's not for me anyway."
"Fine, fine," I concede. My mind is still racing with thoughts of our conversation and my current Beca dilemma while I walk to the front door.
"Beca!"
Definitely not who I was expecting to be on the other side. But here she is, standing in front of me, a human ball of nerves. She's just about as surprised to see me as I am to see her.
"H-hey," she manages to say, a nervous smile on her face.
"What's going on? Why aren't you at the station?"
And then the most amazing thing happens. Here I am, in the doorway of my apartment, soft lips are pressed to mine and small hands cupping my face. I stumble backwards a little, my body not prepared for her sudden boldness. She stumbles with me and we both smile and laugh at the same time, our mouths still pressed against each other. And just as I am about to get lost in her lips, she pulls away. My eyes slowly open, finding hers right away. She takes both my hands in hers, fidgeting with my fingers, no explanation or grand speech yet to fall from her lips.
But she eventually gets there. Well, sort of.
"I couldn't leave without doing that. I just couldn't."
I get stuck on that word. Leave.
"But you are leaving..." I manage to say.
"Mmmm," she hums, and that's when I catch a spark of something in her eye. One corner of her mouth turns up in a smile that leaves a lot to the imagination. "Like I said, not everything for me is out in LA. Some things are worth sticking around for."
That's when a big fat grin spreads across my face and all I can do is pull her back into me, and bring those lips back to mine.
A place to crash
I got you
No need to ask
I got you