Countdown
A Pitch Perfect One-Shot
A/N: Written for my best friend Casey who wanted a Jeca New Year's thing. Rated M for (very) strong language, teen drinking (I sound like a mom), suggestive content (?), and (possible) mature scenes, but I'm not spoiling that. Who knows what could happen on New Year's Eve, am I right?
P.S. Some of the things in this story are a little different from those in Pitch Perfect. For example, what happened between Beca's parents is a little different. But again, I'm not spoiling anything.
Enjoy!
Everyone sets New Year's resolutions, right?
Wrong.
Beca Mitchell is not one for New Year's resolutions, or New Year's Eve parties, or anything, well, New Year's-y. She didn't see much point. Why wait until next year to accomplish those tasks? Why not now? What's the point in waiting? It's just a change of calendar.
Everyone knew that she didn't do New Year's Eve parties. At least, everyone should have known. Her best friends especially should have known. They probably did know, but pretended not to so they would have a better chance of dragging Beca out to a party. A party that she did not want to go to. A party that she was… going to anyway.
"Beca, you can't wear that," said Chloe, barging in her room without knocking, like always. It was sort of her thing.
"Why?" Beca countered, her arms crossed over her chest. There was annoyance in her tone. "What's wrong with jeans and a t-shirt?"
Chloe just stared at her. Seriously? This girl was wearing jeans. And a t-shirt. To a New Year's Eve party.
"A lot of things. A lot of things are wrong with that," Stacie said, entering the room. Without knocking. "Oh, come on Beca. You can't be serious. We're seniors in high school! This is our last high school New Year's party—ever. We're supposed to be getting laid tonight! That's what's wrong with jeans and a t-shirt. You don't get laid in that." She gestured to her own apparel, which consisted of an almost finger-length polka-dot dress and flats. "You get laid in easy-access stuff."
"I don't plan on getting laid," Beca stated firmly.
Stacie turned to Chloe with her hands up in surrender. "I found the source of the issue."
Now Chloe was the one crossing her arms. "Beca. You're a senior in high school. Would you just let loose and have a little fun, like a normal high school senior?"
"Isn't it a little cold outside for dresses?" said Beca. Stacie pulled out her phone, and on the screen was a screenshot of the weather. Seventy degrees.
Okay, fine.
"We have exams in two weeks. I shouldn't even be going," Beca continued.
Chloe's stare was unflinching, and then her eyes lit up. "Oh, no. You definitely should be going." Her gaze moved to Stacie, and once the redhead gave her the look, she was on board as well. "You should be going, because Jesse fuckingSwanson is going."
Oh, here we go again, Beca thought. Jesse and Beca met in sixth grade, and were friends up until freshman year. Nothing else—just friends. They didn't get into a detrimental argument or anything that ruined their friendship—they just grew apart. It was just something that happened to friends. Key word: friends. Just friends. That's all they were. F-R-I-E-N-D-S. But Chloe and Stacie have always, always thought otherwise.
"What is he to me? We haven't talked since, like, freshman year," Beca protested. Given looks of disbelief, she added, "Besides, he's not even my type."
"You have a type? You really are a dreadful liar," Chloe said.
"I'm not lying."
"You're doing it right now."
"No, I'm not!"
"You already got accepted to Barden! Why are you still stressing about school?"
Chloe and Beca continued their argument as Stacie rummaged through Beca's dark, dark closet. Among the black, there had to be something cute. Right?
Right. "Woah, woah, woah," Stacie interrupted the two bickering teenagers. "When the hell did you get this?"
She pulled out a navy blue cut-out surplice romper. While Beca groaned, Stacie and Chloe cheered.
"I got it for her as a birthday present last year!" Chloe said. "You are so wearing this tonight. It'll make your boobs look amazing. You can match it with a leather jacket for mystique."
"I don't need my boobs to look amazing. And I don't need to add to my so-called 'mystique.'" Beca protested.
The girls stared at her.
She sighed again. "I'm not wearing that."
Why do these things always happen?
Beca had managed to get herself in another sticky situation—with the same two girls that she always got into sticky situations with. She hated the New Year's holiday. She hated parties. She hated rompers. Yet here she was. Going to a party. On New Year's Eve. Wearing that damn navy blue romper.
Why do these things always happen to her?
The party was about three blocks away, hosted by some senior named Bumper Allen. Everyone who's anyone knows about Bumper's parties, so even though neither Stacie, Chloe, nor Beca actually knew him, they were aware of the party itself. His parents were both doctors, so of course, he lived in a huge mansion, one of which probably included a fancy wine cellar and china display. Speaking of his parents, they were both out of town. Perfect grounds for a party.
Why did she agree to this? What if something bad happens? What if someone spikes her drink? What if the cops come? What if she passes out at a stranger's house? What if the cops come while she's passed out at a stranger's house because someone spiked her drink? What if the door to the garage designated for smoking is left open and the smell fills the house, and then the smell sticks to her, so when she does go home, her dad grounds her because she smells like cannabis? What if-?
What if.
What if she's just overthinking this?
Yeah. It's just a party. She's just overthinking this. It's just a party. A high school party. She doesn't have to do anything she doesn't want to do. Peer pressure doesn't actually exist like it does in those Lifetime movies they showed in sex-ed class. No one really cares that much.
Get your shit together, Beca. You're at the front door.
Oh, shit. She was at the front door. And before she knew it, she was inside. Even quicker than that, the sick smell of alcohol closed in and triggered a neurological response. Chloe's words echoed through her mind. Have a little fun.
Beca Mitchell wanted a drink. Or maybe it wasn't a neurological response. Maybe her subconscious was telling her that she was going to need a drink to get through the night.
"I'm gonna go grab us some drinks," Stacie said, as if reading Beca's mind. She made her way through the crowd, but was stopped by a taller Indian guy with square glasses before she made it ten feet. Chloe and Beca both watched as the pair wandered off together in no particular direction.
"She's not really getting drinks, is she?" Chloe asked, already knowing the answer.
"I doubt we'll see her until tomorrow afternoon," Beca confirmed. Typical. "How about I get us some drinks?"
Chloe nodded her head, and Beca disappeared into the crowd.
Kitchen. Kitchen. Kitchen. Where the hell is the kitchen? She only assumed that's where the drinks were kept. It seemed reasonable. But, not being a huge partier, she wasn't completely sure.
Beca wandered around the house, looking for the kitchen or any sign of drinks. She poked her head into several rooms on the first floor. A doorway to a basement (or wine cellar), a couple bathrooms, a dining room, a bedroom (with two people in it doing something that made Beca almost gag), but no kitchen. Drinks should not be this difficult to find. Especially in a large mansion. You'd think there would be drinks at every turn. Or maybe they were especially difficult to find because she was in a large mansion. Dammit. Why is this house so big? Why—
"Looking for something in particular?" asked a voice coming from behind her. She whipped her head around, her body following suit, and almost bumped into the one person she was hoping not to bump into.
Dammit.
Of course this happened. How could it not? She was going to a party she wasn't supposed to go to/didn't want to go to, it's New Year's Eve, and her life sort of sucks. So why didn't she anticipate this?
Jesse Swanson stood before her, several inches taller but only a couple inches away. Beca took a step back, subconsciously. Or consciously. She wasn't quite sure.
"What?" Beca said.
The distance she created didn't go unnoticed by Jesse, Beca could tell, but he knew better than to take a step forward. "I asked if you were looking for something," he repeated. "You seem a little lost."
Does he recognize me? Does he remember middle school? Beca cleared her throat after a few seconds, awkwardly, but spoke casually. "Um, yeah, actually. I think I took a couple of wrong turns trying to find the drinks." She shrugged.
He put on a slight smile. "Are you intoxicated right now?"
"What? No, I said I was looking for the drinks. I haven't had one yet." She paused. There were Chloe's words again, floating around in the back of her mind.Have a little fun. Beca wanted to roll her eyes for thinking about it, but she figured she'd play it out anyway. "But you," she continued, "are looking a bit tipsy."
Then the smile grew bigger. "Me? Tipsy? Nah. Never."
"I'm not sure that I believe you. Could you pass a sobriety test right now? Can you stand up straight?"
She pushed him back slightly, but he was steady on his feet. "See how I come right back? And I come right back."
This time, a laugh erupted from him. And her. Subconsciously. Or consciously. She still wasn't sure.
The laughing died out and a silence replaced it. It wasn't particularly awkward, but any blind person could see that Jesse was searching for something to say.
"So do you know where they are?" Beca asked, breaking the newly-frozen ice.
"Do I know where what are?"
"The drinks."
"Oh, yeah. They're in the kitchen," said Jesse. No response. "Don't you know where the kitchen is?"
"No," Beca replied. "That was sort of the issue."
Another laugh. "I can take you there." He moved his hand to reach out and touch her, but drew back. He wasn't sure what he was reaching for: her hand? Her shoulder? Her back?
Beca took note of his struggle. "I'll just follow you."
"Right," he said, almost too quickly. Not taking her hand or touching any part of her, Jesse led her down the hallway.
Meanwhile…
Chloe waited a good seven minutes for Beca to bring back drinks. Even saw her walk the wrong direction. Twice. But whatever, she's capable of getting her own drink. Maybe then she'd go find Beca.
She wormed her way through the drunken teenage youth and into the kitchen, passing by old friends that she hadn't talked to in years, old forgotten enemies, strangers, and freshmen that definitely should not be there.
"Chloe!"
She perked her head up at the sound of her name.
No. Fucking. Way. Is that…? No. It can't be.
Not possible. Jesse fucking Swanson is not with Beca fucking Mitchell. Holy. Shit. Where is Stacie?
Chloe could not wipe the grin off of her face. Beca probably could.
"Beca! There you are. I was wondering where you went," she said.
"I just got a little lost," said Beca, gesturing to Jesse.
Chloe gave her a smirk. How lost? she mouthed.
Jesse waved his hand. "I was just helping her find the drinks. Speaking of which, I guess I'll leave you girls to it." He took a step forward, but Chloe was faster.
"Actually!" she interrupted, her eyes unmoving from Beca's death glare. "Um, I ran into someone on my way here. Guy from Calculus. I told him I'd be right back. Jesse," she looked up at him, "why don't you keep Beca company?"
"That's not necessary," Beca intervened, staring knives into her best friend. "You don't have to—"
"No, I'd love to," Jesse said. "I'll get us some drinks." He moved off further into the kitchen.
Beca pulled Chloe over. "What are you doing?" she snapped in a whisper-yell.
"Helping you," Chloe responded. "You should be thanking me."
"No, I should probably be hitting you. But the inner-pacifist deep, deep down inside me has decided to surface at this very moment for the first time in years, so, consider yourself lucky."
"You're just bluffing. You know you like him."
"I do not like him!" She paused. "And what guy from Calculus? You aren't even in Calculus! You take Stats."
"Loosen up! Jesus, I'm just trying to get you to enjoy senior year a little."
Beca rolled her eyes. She was getting tired of this. "I can enjoy senior year without—"
"Hey," said a voice from behind Beca. Jesse's. "I got us two Mike's Hard Lemonades. Watermelon-flavored. Not too much alcohol, but still enough to—sorry, am I interrupting?" He looked back and forth between Beca and Chloe.
"Nope, I was just leaving. See ya later!" Chloe said, snapping her fingers as she walked away.
Jesse handed Beca an open Mike's. He didn't say anything, but it looked as if he heard at least part of Beca and Chloe's conversation. Not that it mattered to Beca. Maybe this way, he won't try and make a move. Maybe he'll even leave her alone.
"So, how come I haven't seen you at any other parties?" Jesse asked.
Well, guess not.
"I'm not a huge partier. I like having fun without… intoxication," Beca replied. "But, you must party often. Being friends with Bumper and all."
Jesse raised his eyebrows, as if the assumption surprised him. "No, actually. I mean, I go to the parties, but just to see my friends on the weekends. I don't drink often at all."
Just as Beca was about to speak up, both of their heads turned to the left as a crowd of ear-popping loud teenagers flooded the kitchen. With a closer look, Beca could see that they were all jocks that found one or two girls each. Stacie and that Indian guy with the glasses were there, too. Of course.
"Hey, do you wanna go somewhere a little quieter?" Jesse yelled over the noise.
"What? I can't hear you, it's too loud in here!" Beca yelled back. He just barely heard her, but managed to read her lips. He nodded his head to the closest door and started walking toward it, motioning for her to follow.
He led her up the stairs, somewhere past the second floor. Whenever she asked where they were going, he would just brush it off and mumble something about his favorite spot, or something. Beca found it quite annoying. She really disliked surprises and being left in the dark. She knew she could turn around and leave and go find Chloe or someone, but something told her she should play this out. Chloe's voice, probably.
At the very top of the stairs, there was a single guest bedroom with a door at the back. Don't follow him into a bedroom, you idiot. Jesse encouraged her to follow him again. You idiot. You are literally following a somewhat-stranger into a dark room. He turned the knob on the door at the back, and it opened up to a round balcony with two seats and a few flower pots. It looked out over the backyard and a wooded area. Beca was awe-struck. The moon was full, the stars were visible. She felt as if she could stay up here for hours.
But Beca decided against telling him that. Letting her guard down could lead to something dangerous. Instead, she asked, "Why'd you bring me up here? Are you gonna Dexter me or something?"
And Jesse replied, "It was too loud down there." A simple response. "And, I always come up here when Bumper has a party. Just to be alone for a few minutes."
But you brought me up here, Swanson. You're not alone.
"Do you remember that one time in the sixth grade," Jesse started, "when we were playing kickball in gym class and it was your turn to kick the ball? And you kicked it—"
"Right in your nuts?" Beca finished. "Then Ms. DiAngelo made me take you to the nurse for ice, because I was the one who kicked the ball?"
"Yeah. That. The guys got on me for basically getting kicked in the balls by a girl." He started laughing, and she joined him subconsciously. Or consciously. Or whatever. "Did you do that on purpose?"
"Has that question been haunting you for years?"
"Yes, as a matter-of-fact. I totally cry myself to sleep every night, thinking about it."
Another laughing fit.
Beca was lost in thought for a few moments, trying to remember the other fun times they had in middle school. She took a sip of her Mike's Hard Lemonade. "Okay… do you remember in Mr. Harding's class when we would ask to go to the bathroom and actually walk across the street to 7-11 and get slurpees? And he'd only be okay with it if—"
"If we brought him one back?" Jesse finished her story this time.
"Half cherry, half pina colada with one squirt of coca cola."
"And if anyone else tried—"
"He'd give them a detention for skipping class," Beca said, through her laughter. "Geez, I miss that class. I wish that worked on my anatomy teacher."
They talked for what felt like hours. It was as if no time at all had passed, and they were still in middle school, still best friends. It felt like nothing had changed. When Beca came to the party, she was expecting to avoid him, and thought that he'd want to avoid her too, but instead, they were just… talking. And talking. And they talked. And talked.
Maybe this was… all she needed? Just to talk to someone. Someone who she was, for some reason, more comfortable with than anyone. Someone who wasn't forcing her to go out and find some random guy to have sex with for the mere purpose of "making memories" and "having fun." Yeah. She just needed to talk. She didn't need to have sex, or do anything of the sort. Talking is fine. She's not sexually attracted to him at all. Not one bit. Nope.
"So where are you gonna go to college?" Jesse asked, interrupting Beca's train of thought.
"Oh, I got accepted to Barden, where my dad works. And I applied to a bunch of other schools… but I think I'm gonna go to Barden. I have a full ride," she said.
"Wow, that's impressive."
"Not really."
"A full ride to Barden University? I mean, it's not an expensive school, but still. You're like Smartypants McGee."
"I only got it because my dad pulled some strings and talked to some people. I didn't get it because I'm… Smartypants McGee."
"Oh. Well, still. Any idea what you wanna do?"
"I wanna be a music producer. Like, a real one. I have an internship this summer at a place called Residual Heat, which is my first big thing. I DJ clubs sometimes, but I wanna take it a step further. Also, I'm learning to play drums."
"Drums?"
"Helps me work out my aggression," Beca joked.
"You got a lot of aggression?"
"Just the average amount, I think."
"Wow. So you got it all figured out, huh?"
She liked this. She liked getting asked actual questions. She liked talking. "Yeah. How about you?"
"Well, I guess I'm pretty musical too. For a few years now, I've been obsessed with movie scores. I listen to them while I'm studying, driving, or even just lying in bed after a long day. That's what I wanna do. I wanna score movies. Bring people to tears, you know, blow their minds. I feel like only music can do that."
Beca laughed.
"What's funny?"
"Nothing. You just… I knew that already."
"You did?" he inquired.
"You told me. In eighth grade, after you watched E.T. for the first time, you said you loved the score, and you wished you could create something like that. I think you called it magical."
He was smiling. With his entire face. "You remember that?"
"Only because you made me watch E.T. afterwards, and then you told me again," she brushed it off.
Jesse was staring at her. And he was smiling again.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Beca asked. Wow, why did I asked that? That's so cliché. Now he's gonna think I'm interested. Which I am totally not. At all. Definitely not. Nope.
He snapped out of his daze. "What? I wasn't looking at you. I mean, I was. I mean, um. I was just thinking. And you're in my line of vision."
Beca stood up from her chair and walked to the edge of the balcony. Looking up, she saw clusters of stars that probably had names she was unaware of. It didn't matter much. The warm breeze felt light against her skin, and it smelled like campfires. Why it was warm outside at the end of December, she wasn't sure. Climate change, probably.
Jesse stood up after her and put his hands on the railing. He'd been up here time after time but it always looked different. Especially different now, because Beca was here.
"Why do you like coming up here?" she asked.
He shifted his position, inching closer to her, until their arms were almost touching. She didn't move away. "I like the atmosphere. And the surroundings. I love the surroundings. They change every time you look at them by the smallest of things, in the largest of ways. There's a perfect view of the constellations. The one that looks like a W," he said, pointing to the sky, "is Cassiopeia. My favorite."
Beca nodded subtly. "Before my mom died, she would take me outside every night and we would look at the stars together. She always tried to point out constellations, but I never saw them. There were too many starts to focus on a specific few."
Why did I just tell him that? Beca wondered. It wasn't like he didn't know her mom had died. He was in her life when it happened. They were eleven. But why did she just get so personal with him?
"And now?" he asked.
She glanced at him. "And now, what?"
"Can you see the constellations? Can you see Cassiopeia?"
Jesse pointed to the W in the sky again, and… she saw it. She really saw it. It wasn't a perfect W. Some dots were closer together, and it was very uneven. But she saw it. The constellation, her majesty Cassiopeia, sitting on her throne in the sky.
"Yeah. Yeah, I see Cassiopeia."
Beca could feel Jesse's eyes on her face, as if he were trying to read her. She turned her head and met his gaze, and they just… looked at each other for a while. Their arms were touching on the railing, and he was slowly leaning in. His eyes were on her lips.
"Jesse, look down," Beca said, abruptly stopping whatever was about to happen. "They're doing fireworks and sparklers. Let's go join them."
Dammit, he thought. "Yeah, let's uh, do that. The stairs are this way."
He led her back down to the first floor, then outside and into the backyard. The area was flooded with high schoolers with sparklers in their hands and smiles on their faces. This was that campfire smell that Beca caught a whiff of a few minutes ago, only now it was tinted more with smoke from firecrackers. Bumper was in sight, and he was about to light off a stack of fireworks. At once.
"Alright, everyone step back," he shouted. He set fire to the string, then got at least thirty feet away. Jesse and Beca backed up as well.
After a few seconds, the first one shot up, then the second, then the third. The fireworks were all different shades of blue and red and green. It was beautiful… and louder than gunshots.
Jesse handed Beca a sparkler and lit it for her, then lit his own.
As more and more people came out and celebrated, the hands on the clock drew closer to midnight. Chloe was in sight, and so was Stacie, holding hands with that same guy from earlier. Jesse and Beca were together, lighting sparkler after sparkler. The music was loud, the air smelled like fireworks, and before anyone anticipated it, it was 11:57pm. T-minus three minutes until January 1st, 2017.
"I haven't used sparklers in… who knows how long. Three years, maybe?" Beca said to Jesse.
He seemed surprised, more than anything. "Really? My family and I do them every year on the Fourth of July."
"Yeah, I remember. I joined you a couple years in middle school."
Beca remembered illuminating Jesse's backyard with fireworks and sparklers. There was always a porch full of food, too. The Fourth of July was a special holiday to her; she and her parents used to celebrate it with the neighbors, since they lived in a cul-de-sac. But after Beca's mom died, they had stopped celebrating. The year she died, the house was quiet and lethargic.
The next year, Jesse invited Beca over to join his family on the holiday, and the year after that. His little sister loved having Beca over, and so did Jesse, but he'd never say something like that. He was afraid it would scare her.
"Right," he said, thinking back. He remembered why he invited her over, and how much it meant to her.
"You know," said Beca, "I don't think I ever truly thanked you for that. I know you didn't have to do it."
And Jesse replied, "I know I didn't have to either. I wanted to, Beca."
Beca. Something with the way he said her name gave her a bizarre feeling in her stomach. She hadn't felt it too many times before.
She looked down at her cup, and then up at the clock. It was nearing midnight.
"Twenty seconds," Beca said. "They're about to start the countdown."
The partygoers gathered around the television screen Bumper had set up in his backyard, showing a live feed of Times Square, New York. Then, altogether, everyone started to chant as the ball was about to drop.
Ten, they said.
Beca took a sip of her drink. Nine.
Eight, and Jesse took a sip of his.
Seven. The chants grew louder. Six.
Five. Beca stared at the screen as all the New Yorkers yelled numbers with them.
Four. Jesse stole a look at her from the corner of his eye.
Three. Beca turned her head towards Jesse as he was smiling at the television screen.
Two. Jesse turned his head at just the right moment.
One.
"Fuck it," Beca said. Her lips smashed against Jesse's. Subconsciously or consciously? She didn't care.
"Happy New Year!" everyone shouted.
Jesse and Beca dropped their drinks and had their hands on each other in seconds. The surrounding voices were drawn out and foggy. Beca's hands were wrapped around Jesse's neck, and Jesse's hands were on the small of Beca's back. Her body was close against his.
But the weird thing was, it didn't feel strange. It felt so… natural. Like all the years of wondering what if no longer mattered, because they were here, now. And they were sharing a New Year's kiss.
Off to the side, Stacie and Chloe high-fived.
"Hey," Beca said, breaking the kiss ever so slightly. "Should we…"
"Yeah, yeah we should," Jesse agreed, as if reading her mind. He gave her another kiss, a quick but meaningful one, and led her inside, his hand in hers. They went back up the stairs and into the room they had previously been in with the balcony, only they were in the actual bedroom part of it.
Beca didn't even get the chance to close the door before she was slammed up against it, resulting in a loud thud of the door shutting. His mouth was on hers in an instant. Jesse's hands were all over Beca: her waist, her back, her ass. He took her leather jacket off with haste.
The sensations she felt already… and this was just the tip of the iceberg. They were just kissing. But it felt like more than that. She couldn't explain it with words. She could hardly think about anything right now.
His lips travelled from her mouth to her jaw, and then to her neck, driving her wild. It was surprising; it's like he knew exactly what she wanted.
"It's funny," she spoke under her breath, but loud enough for Jesse to hear. "Middle school me never would have thought this would be happening."
Jesse's voice was low and quiet. "Really? Middle school me pictured this over and over again." Beca looked at him, taken aback yet amused. "I'm kidding. It only happened a few times."
Beca laughed. "Seriously?"
"Can you blame me?" he said. "I was a middle schooler. I was at the peak of my nonexistent sex life. I was learning everything."
"And you thought of me when you thought of sex?"
He had a goofy grin on his face, and his eyes were searching for something. "Not just sex. I thought about taking you on picnic dates and drinking Capri Suns with you, too. I kind of had the biggest crush on you in the seventh and eighth grade, but I didn't want to tell you and ruin our friendship."
Beca smiled sinisterly. "And now?"
Jesse kissed her again, then lightly grinded against her, allowing a small noise to escape from her lips. "Let's just say, the attraction is still there," he whispered.
Beca was tugging at the hem of his shirt. It was obvious he had too many clothes on. He tossed his shirt aside, leaving himself bare from the waist up. Beca took in the view.
His body definitely… matured… from the last time she saw him shirtless, swimming at a birthday party in seventh grade. His abs were now toned, and his arm muscles… his arm muscles.
Jesse took note of her fixation. "See something you like, Mitchell?" he joked.
"Don't get too cocky."
It was his turn. His hands were running across her exposed skin on her arms, upper thighs, back, and the cut-out of her waist. He reached down to pull her dress off, and then realized it wasn't a dress.
"What the hell is this? Why are there pants on a dress?" Jesse asked, tugging at the edges of her... whatever she was wearing.
"It's called a romper, or a jumper. They're like dresses, but they have pant legs."
"All this time I thought it was just a short dress." He ran his hands over her skin again, then put his mouth next to her ear. "But it won't matter once it's off of you."
Beca gasped at his straightforwardness. Then, she turned around so her back was facing Jesse, and let him unzip her romper. It fell at her feet, and she was left in a white bralette with matching underwear. Jesse didn't say anything, and Beca took note of his silence.
"See something you like, Swanson?" Beca teased, copying him, her head half-turned.
He still said nothing. Instead, his hands wrapped around her, sending a chill down her body. The air in the room was warm. The voices from outside were loud, but not distracting. It sounded cheesy, but Beca and Jesse truly felt like they were the only ones within miles.
Jesse's hands travelled south and he felt her through her underwear. Another small noise escaped her lips, but she didn't hold back. That sound was all the permission Jesse needed to slip his hand inside the thin cotton material. Her head fell back against his shoulder, and her legs were trembling. She didn't want to stand any longer.
Jesse moved her hair to the side and began kissing her neck again, much more vigorously this time, pulling and sucking at the exposed skin. It hurt Beca a little bit, but not in an uncomfortable way. She angled herself so it would be easier for him, while also encouraging him further. While one hand was on her stomach and keeping her stable, the other was putting her stamina to the test. His middle finger was moving in circles exactly where she wanted to be touched. His hand moved lower, and his fingers were lightly stroking her. His hard-on was evident; she could feel it rubbing against her. Then, he pulled his hand away before she could say anything. The sudden gesture startled her.
"Why'd you stop?" Beca asked.
He responded by turning her around and kissing her. It was a heated kiss, much like before, but there was more passion in it. Jesse walked her back to the bed and laid her down a little roughly. He was hovering over her, and she could feel his warm breath on her neck. His hand reached down again and pulled her underwear off, then rubbed her clitoris in circles once again, causing her eyes to fall shut and her back to lift off of the bed. She could almost feel his smile lingering in the air. Beca's heart was beating like one of Lars Ulrich's drums and she could've sworn everything around them was blurry. She could feel his heart beating through his perfectly sculpted chest, and was sure he could feel hers too. His movements were enticing and inviting. They made her want more.
Jesse slipped two fingers inside, and because she was so turned on, they went in easily. Beca had, of course, done this before, but her previous sexual experiences did not match Jesse's exquisite, pleasurable touches. It was almost hypnotizing.
He removed his fingers from her and began kissing at her inner thigh. After a few teasing kisses, his mouth finally reached its destination.
"Jesse… I'm gonna…," Beca mustered out after a minute, her heavy breaths overshadowing her words.
He immediately ceased all actions and his mouth was by her ear in seconds. She could feel his breath again. "Not yet," Jesse said in a husky voice. "I want to fuck you first."
If words could send someone over the edge, Beca would be falling off of a cliff right now. Jesse's words made her shiver. She wanted him just as badly as he wanted her.
Jesse unbuckled his belt and practically ripped off his jeans and tossed them to the side. He was grinding intensely against her before he removed the last clothing article of his that was separating them. His member was trailing up and down Beca's folds in a teasing motion, making her beg for more.
And then he entered her. Slowly, then all at once. Beca's moans matched his repetitive thrusts. They say some people don't fit together, but Jesse and Beca were like puzzle pieces. It felt so right. He moved in and out at a pace that could've driven Beca insane.
There were fireworks going off. Whether they were outside and real or just simply inside her head, she couldn't tell. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except for what was happening in that moment. Nothing mattered except Jesse, and how he was holding her and making her feel. Her insides were twisting and her heart was hammering in her chest. Everything around them was blurred in the dim, blue, romantic light of the room.
Beca finished, and she could've sworn the fireworks she saw earlier were, without a doubt, inside that very room. Jesse finished not too long after, but he remained hovering over her. He kissed her ferociously. One would think they'd be tired, but they never felt more awake.
Jesse pulled out and rolled to the side. His eyes lingered on her for several moments. The glow of the moonlight illuminated her face and body, enhancing her features: the defined curve of her cheekbone, her jawline, the swoop of her collarbones. Her body was voluptuous in any and all ways. She was beautiful.
Beca rotated on her side so she was facing him, and met his gaze. "What?" she asked.
"What?" Jesse pondered innocently.
"You're staring at me."
Well, yeah, you're kind of gorgeous and I like you, he thought. After a few moments, he asked, "What are you doing tomorrow?"
She seemed a little surprised by this. "Um, nothing that I know of."
"Good," was all he said.
"Good?"
"Good. I was making sure you were free."
"Free for what, exactly?"
He just smiled with his usual grin. "How about lunch? My treat."
Beca propped herself up on her elbow. "Are you asking me on a date, Swanson?"
Jesse nodded. "I should've done it years ago. Sorry it took this long."
She let out a soft giggle, then rolled on top of him. This time, it was her breath he felt on his neck. Beca nibbled on his ear, then pressed a light kiss to his lips. He smiled behind it, then kissed her back, more spiritedly. Jesse pulled her down so she was laying all the way on top of him.
"Is that a yes then, Beca Mitchell?"
She nodded. "It's a yes. I'll go out to lunch with you. As long as there are juice pouches."
"Deal."
Neither Beca from middle school nor Beca from four hours ago would have ever pictured this moment. Yet here she was, with her old best friend, now lover. Ew, Beca thought. Lover? That is a disgusting word and it should be left in 2016.
So yeah, New Year's resolutions weren't exactly her thing. But there's a first time for everything right?
Right.
A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed this cheesy little one-shot :)
If you are reading my other stories: I'm sorry I have not updated anything in like thirty thousand years but I have just been so busy. I don't know if I'll be able to continue them, but I haven't forgotten them. I will definitely try to update, but I can't make any promises.
Thanks for reading! xx