Author's note: I made this fanfic for my friend. A big Bloe fan.
Disclaimer: i don't own pitch perfect
Beca
So this is how I'm going to die, getting hit by a traveling bus of flight attendants with their weird neck scarves. I didn't even go out with a bang like the movies, that graceful artistic arch of briefly flying. Nope, definitely not like the movies, this happened in a blink of an eye and hurts like a mother fucker. No orchestra playing softly in the background, just the sound of my body hitting the pavement and screeching tires. Let's not go into detail about the shock of being hit and the searing pain I'm in.
As my vision starts to blur and I start to think I'm being taken to heaven to get away from this throbbing, big crystal blue eyes suddenly blocked the light and peered down at me. She's saying something, but everything sounds disorientated like being underwater. She could be a mermaid…wait what am I thinking…
The last thing that does get through the water barrier distortion was a name…Chloe.
Let's back track to a few hours ago before the accident.
I can hear the beat in a form of the coffee maker's steady drip, the changing of channels, the whirring of the fan under the chatter of people and the clinks of cups. Dreaming that American dream while flour coat my hands and the desert out of the window stares back at me. Someday I'll get out of this place and produce –
"BECA! Can you stay a bit longer after your shift to wait tables; Riley just called in saying he'll be late." Bob's head peeked into the kitchen
"Bob, I've got thirty minutes left though and I was from a.m.! I got to prep for another job interview!"
"Beca, just stay for 4 hours and I'll pay you overtime."
"Staying for an extra 10 dollars saved you this time slave driver."
"Oh ha ha ha ha. By the way your regular is here."
Wiping the excess flour on the hand towel, I grabbed the apron and walked pass the swinging door. Jesse sat on the nearest barstool beaming across the checkered tiles when I entered the floor. Oh Jesse, he wandered to this dusty town to film an indie movie, came in for coffee and was offended by the lack of my enthusiasm for "classic cult movies," which led him to stay longer.
"You're not done filming, Jesse? Im pretty sure you didn't stay in this town for the coffee."
"Nah, I haven't done my duty to educate Beca of the great art in these movies! She's gotta see the light."
"Or you guys can both get married just like the movies." Jesse grinned at the comment
"Hey, don't I get a say in things? Old people these days, here's your cup of Joe."
Luckily two hours in Riley showed up, while Jesse was in the middle of trying to set up a movie date for Breakfast at Tiffany's.
"Bob, Riley's here now! I'm still taking that overtime pay, see you tomorrow Bob!"
Running through the back door of the diner, I checked the time on my watch. The invisible pressure of time and my inability to say no to extra dough added to curses I let out.
A bus flew through the road and hit me.
