The first time I try to tell him that I love him, he thinks I'm joking. He's regaling me with more of his "fun facts" when he catches the look on my face and stops mid-sentence.
"No? But Bec, I thought you lived for my Clark Gable trivia."
"Well, that is why I love you." It's not untrue.
"Ha-ha, Beca, don't even try. I know it's my ruggedly handsome good looks." He looks like he might be about to say something else, but it's quickly replaced by a little grin that I know is meant to read as lighthearted. Like a coward, I don't correct his misjudgment.
The second time, I choke. Completely. He's inspecting the contents of his mini-fridge, one hand on the little white door and his whole head practically inside the thing.
"I'm going to run and grab more juice pouches. Can't have us running out, you know. Strawberry kiwi?" He's tapping his index finger on the fridge door, counting how many are left. I've never told him the strawberry kiwi flavor is my favorite, but he must have noticed they tend to disappear faster when I'm around. I won't pretend it's not touching.
"I love you." Fuck, it's almost a whisper. His head pops out of the box and reappears above the door.
"Sorry, what?"
"I, um. I love… juice." Fuck fuck fuck. He raises one eyebrow and I can see those brown eyes flick back and forth, scanning my face as he tries to figure out what to make of that.
"Well, I guess some of my good taste was bound to rub off on you after all this time. I'll be right back – I think they close in, like, ten minutes – and then we can start the movie, okay?" He grabs his jacket from the bed, brushes a quick kiss to my temple, and then he's out the door. I feel a little like hitting something.
The third time, he beats me to it. We're in bed, earlier than usual because Bellas practice is going to be extra long the next day, and I can feel him shifting against my back. He props himself up on one arm, the other one still wrapped around me.
"Bec? I need to tell you something. Are you awake?"
It occurs to me that he's being kind and giving me an out if I want it, like he always does when he tries to bring up something serious. I consider taking it for a brief moment. It would be so easy.
"… Yeah. I'm awake. What's up?"
"I just—" He pauses, and I wonder what his face looks like right now, but I don't turn around. He clears his throat in a little rumble I can feel from his chest to my back. "—I wanted to tell you this for a while, but don't freak out because you don't have to say anything, okay?" He stops again, waiting for me to acknowledge.
"Just spit it out."
"I love you, Beca." He lays his head back onto the pillow, anticipating the end of the conversation. I feel him breathe in, deep, and release it again. I wriggle until I can free one of my arms, finding the hand on my stomach and lacing my fingers with his.
"Okay." And then, "I love you, Jesse."
"Beca—" There's a little hitch in his voice, and his arm tenses around me, but I hold onto his hand harder before he can turn me over.
"Don't look at me right now or I'm going to die of embarrassment, okay?"
"Okay. Okay." He pulls me in until I'm completely pressed against him, tucks my head under his chin, and manages to get his other arm under and around so that he's pretty much entirely wrapped around me. "Should I be offended that you're embarrassed?"
"No. I'll tell you later." I don't want to have to ruin this moment by explaining my previous attempts and having him laugh at me in that annoyingly affectionate way he has.
"Right."
He's holding me so tightly now, and it might be the best thing I've ever felt. "You can't sleep like this, can you?" I wonder if I sound disappointed.
"Nope."
Oh, well. "Need me to move?"
"No, I'll do it in a bit when my arm goes numb."
"Okay, good."
I can still feel his heart beating when I drift off.