"Beca! Beca!"
I take my eyes away from my friends headed down the stairs and direct them towards Jesse, who's climbing over multiple rows of seats to get to me.
"Be-caw!" He takes one last step and ends up right in front of my face. "Do my eyes deceive me, or are you a Barden Bella?"
I shake my head no, mostly to discourage whatever's going to come out of his mouth next. I can already tell he's wasted.
"You're one of those acapella girls, I'm one of those acapella boys, and we're gonna have aca-children. It's inevitable," he says, so very pleased with himself.
"You're really drunk right now," I say, dissuading.
"No."
"I don't think you're gonna remember any of this."
"I'm not drunk at all, you're just blurry."
I can't help but laugh at that. A big, stupid smile appears on my face and betrays the facade I'd been trying so hard to keep up.
"You okay? Yeah? You almost fall over?" I waver a bit to imitate the way he's swaying, then push on his chest. "Could you… pass a sobriety test?"
He leans back, then comes forward again. "See how I come right back?" he says, thoroughly amused by himself. "And… I come right back."
We spend a short, fleeting moment just looking at each other, and I notice his eyes are warm and brown. I hadn't noticed the color before.
"Can I get you a drink?" he asks, nodding.
"Sounds great."
"I'm gonna get you a drink."
"Go for it."
"I think you need to get on this level."
He steps back over the seats just the way he came, and I call after him, "Please, be careful!"
As I watch him leave, I think about our conversation at the radio station earlier in the week. He was annoying as hell, acting like he knew me. But the comment about being best friends and/or lovers - no matter how repulsive the word 'lovers' is - stuck with me. I have no idea why, and it's a little disturbing.
He comes back a few minutes later with the drink he promised and says, "This is awesome."
"It's definitely something," I say, not willing to give in to the whole thing quite yet.
"We are the kings of campus!" he bellows, arms wide open.
I stare at the back of Jesse's head and close my eyes, eyebrows raised in disbelief and amusement, against my better judgment. A few people turn to look, but most are too caught up in their own conversations and drinks to care all that much.
"You're gonna fall," I mumble, taking big sips of my beer until it's gone. It's warm and tastes horrible, but I still stomach it. It's better than nursing the same cup for the entire party, and my guess is that tonight will be infinitely better if I'm a little drunk.
Jesse turns around to look at me with a glint in his eyes. "You'd catch me," he says.
I scoff. "No way. You'd crush me."
"Ouch," he says, laughing. "Well, at least I'd have a soft place to land."
"Whatever," I say, crushing the cup in my hand for something to do.
"Oh!" he says. "Drink's empty. Know what that means?"
"What does it mean," I say, trying not to give away my smile.
"Top 'er up!" he shouts, once again way too loud.
"Dude!" I say, yanking him down from where he's perched. He stumbles but stays upright, a goofy smile painted on his face.
"Hey," he says. "You only said I'd fall 'cause you wanna make me fall."
"Ya got me," I say, then extend one arm towards him. "Are you gonna get me another drink, or what?"
"Oh-ho!" he laughs, then takes the cup. "Jesse Swanson, at your service."
I watch him walk away again while still pretending not to. Every time I try and look somewhere else, I only end up gravitating back to him, standing at the keg and dancing to a song that someone just turned on.
And of course, he sings it to me when he comes back. "Starships were meant to fly… hands up, and touch the sky… can't stop 'cause we're so high… let's do this one more time…"
"Seriously…" I say, rolling my eyes.
"Come on! Sing along," he says, nodding with the beat.
"I don't know the words," I say.
"Liar," he says, pursing his lips. "Everybody knows Nicki Minaj. Come on. Everybody."
"Not me," I say.
"Stop lying!" he says, laughing. "If you don't sing, there's no way you're getting this drink. I'm gonna just… I'm gonna down the whole thing right in front of you."
"And get even drunker?" I ask. "How am I supposed to handle you then?"
"Handle me, huh?" he says, eyes swimming. "I think I like the sound of that."
"Don't make it weird," I say, snatching the cup to take a huge swig out of it.
"Are you trying to keep up with me, or something?" he asks, eyebrows all screwy. "Because it's gonna take you a while. I'm one… two…" He holds a hand up and tries to count, but gets mixed up. "I honestly have no idea."
"No," I say, draining the rest. "I'm just trying to soften the edges of… whatever this is."
"This?" he asks, motioning between the two of us.
I shake my head. "No," I say, making a grander gesture. "This."
"What's wrong with Hood Night?!" he says. "It's tradition!"
"Like I said, it's… something."
He snorts with laughter and takes my wrist. Only then do I realize that I've begun to wobble, too. Two beers will do that, I guess.
"Could you pass a sobriety test?" he asks, mirroring my words from only moments ago. He takes me by the hips and for some reason, I let him. He sways me side to side and I roll my eyes, hands overlapping his.
"I'd prefer not to," I say, then look over his shoulder to see Aubrey staring daggers into both of us. The words from the weird, sanctimonious oath ring through my mind as I meet her eyes: and I will never have sexual relations with a Treblemaker, or may my vocal cords be ripped out by wolves. "Come on," I say, extracting his hands from my waist.
He gives me a confused look. "Something wrong?" he asks.
I lift my empty cup. "I just want more," I say. "One more."
"Where're you putting all that, anyway?" he asks, narrowing his eyes as we descend the cement stairs. "You're too tiny."
I take two steps for every one of his, and when he tries to slink an arm around the small of my back, I wriggle away.
"Stop," I say, though my thoughts have become foggier. The alcohol is getting to me, and a third will create the perfect storm.
"Sorry," he says, and I hear the twinge of hurt in his voice.
"Just… it's Aubrey," I say, throwing a glance behind me to check if she's still watching. Luckily, she's not. But that could easily change. "We have some stupid rule."
"A rule?" he asks, handing me a cup that's nearly overflowing.
"Jesus," I say, taking a big gulp.
"Jesus!" he echoes, laughing.
He winds both arms around my waist again, and I compulsively check for Aubrey's eyes, paranoid she'll turn up at any moment. I'm not scared of her, but that tinny voice in my ear bossing me around is the last thing I want any more of tonight.
I touch his hand gently with my fingertips, glancing around the amphitheater as he nears his face to mine. He smells like beer and soap, which isn't actually a bad a combination. I find myself more drawn to it than I'd like to admit.
"What is the rule?" he asks again.
I turn to find our noses only centimeters apart. I don't make any moves to get away; even if I tried, I couldn't. He has both arms around my waist, standing one step lower so we're close to the same height.
I slug the rest of my beer and feel its effect instantly; the ground dips and spins, but all it does is make me laugh.
"Oh," I say. "Well, I'm not supposed to have sex with you."
His eyes practically bug out of his head. "Who said anything about sex?" he says. "This isn't sex. Last time I checked."
"You're right," I say, but I still can't stop looking for Aubrey. "But they… she's on our asses about it, and she'll flip. Literally. She might explode."
His brow furrows a bit. "Do you want me to stop…?"
"No, no," I say, looser now as my body warms and my muscles relax. "We should just go hang out… somewhere else."
"Well, Benji's in my dorm tonight," he mutters, sounding glum.
"I think my roommate's gone," I say, remembering Kimmy Jin saying something about visiting her family this weekend. "We could hang out in my room… if you want."
He nods vigorously, and I do one last sweep of the area before jetting off towards Baker Hall with him. A Treblemaker, who could definitely get me in a significant amount of trouble.
…
"So… here it is," I say, laughing at nothing as I turn on the lights in my dorm. "Sorry about the mess."
I quickly hurry over in attempts to clear the discarded clothes off my bed, but in my inebriated state, my legs aren't very reliable. So, instead of a straight beeline, I stutter-step and trip over my backpack, which sends me stumbling forward clumsily.
"And she sticks the landing!" Jesse says, fist pumping.
"Yes…" I say, lying halfway on my bed with my feet still on the floor, knees bent in a crumpled position under me.
"That doesn't look comfortable at all," he says, toeing off his shoes and coming over to join me. He sits on the foot of the bed and watches me as I turn around to face him. He made himself right at home, and if I weren't so drunk I'd make some sort of remark about it.
"Better," I say, climbing up on the mattress and leaving my shoes on the floor. I take off my jacket and scarf so I'm left in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt and face him with a smirk on my face.
"So…" he says, and I watch his eyes dart between my eyes and my lips. He's thinking about kissing me, I know that for sure. My heart speeds up and I lick my lips while trying to seem nonchalant. I don't want to look like an idiot, even if I am drunk.
"So…" I echo, looking at him mischievously.
He clears his throat and gets a little closer. "So, why can't you have sex with me?" he asks.
I snort. "It's not just you," I say. "It's all of you. It was part of the oath we took." I shake my head. "It was super weird."
"We didn't take an oath," he says, now fully staring at my mouth. "I don't have any kind of rules like that."
"Oh," I say, smile dying as I stare at him. Now, I bite my lower lip and breathe heavier, wondering what's about to happen. "I…" I say, closing my eyes as the grin comes back. "Well, I don't think our oath said anything about making out."
"Yeah?" he breathes, leaning in. He moves one hand to rest solidly on my waist, rooting me in place as if I planned on going anywhere.
"Uh-huh."
"So, it would be alright if I kissed you right now?"
"Yeah," I say. "Sure."
In high school, I didn't have a ton of friends, but the ones I did have were guys. So, of course, it crossed my mind every now and then what it would be like to kiss them. I'd had a short-lived relationship that consisted of a lot of making out in his car, but it didn't last. Meaning, I have some experience with kissing, but not a ton. I can't help wondering how far Jesse has gone - if he's been all the way or not. I'm not stupid enough to ask right now, though. Not in the heat of the moment.
He holds my head with both hands and presses himself closer, and I wrap my arms around his waist. He tastes like beer - I'm sure I do, too - but it isn't unpleasant at all. His lips are soft and gentle, there's nothing rough about him. Even his face is smooth and free of facial hair as it moves against mine without any chafing or scraping.
He tilts his head and I move with him, draping my arms around his neck instead. I open my mouth and exhale loudly, which makes him pull me closer by the waist and keep me there. I smile to myself, thoroughly enjoying the way this feels, then gently push against him so he lies flat on my bed.
He smiles while on his back, and I feel a twinge of nerves as I get comfortable sitting on his stomach. I've never been in this position before, and I wonder if he can tell. I don't want to look like the inexperienced virgin that I am. I figure that if I pretend to know what I'm doing, he'll be none the wiser. It can't be that hard to pick up. It's just kissing and touching, not rocket science.
"You're so light," he says, laughing as he runs his hands up my back. My shirt ripples in the process, allowing his fingers to graze over my skin. I freeze when he does, affected by the skin-on-skin contact, and we lock eyes. "That okay?" he asks, still respectful even as his speech slurs.
"Yeah," I say, then reach for the hem with nervous fingers. I don't let myself hesitate, though, I just do it. I yank my shirt over my head so I'm left in just my jeans and black bra, sitting on top of a boy.
"Damn," he says, hands hovering in midair. He doesn't know where to put them, that much is clear. So, I make a bold move and grab his wrists, to solidify his grip on the bare skin of my sides. "Damn," he says again.
I smile and lean forward, kissing the corner of his mouth and moving lower. He turns his head and I graze my lips over his jawline, then further to his neck. The skin is warm and soft, and when I open my mouth on it, he holds me tighter around the middle.
He lets out a long sigh when I close my lips around his Adam's apple, skimming up my back until he gets to the band of my bra. He doesn't undo the clasp, but he slides his fingers under it and keeps his hand there, right in the middle of my shoulder blades.
I'm proud of myself, that I can make him feel this way. I still don't know what I'm doing, but it seems I'm making some headway because I can feel how hard he is - right between my legs.
I swallow hard and sit up, tearing my lips away from his neck. I can see the wet spots and red marks where I'd just been, but my heart is hammering too hard for me to concentrate on them for long. With parted lips and a heaving chest, I reach behind me and make a bold move - I grip the bulge in his pants with one hand and stroke the length of it. But his reaction isn't at all what I expected.
Suddenly, he seems 100% sober. He jolts up to a sitting position and accidentally knocks me backwards off his lap. His eyes are wide and buggy, and I'm confused and embarrassed.
"Sorry," I mumble, face heating up with humiliation. "Sorry."
He lets out a huge breath. "No, no," he says, and neither of us can look the other in the eye now. I'm staring at the floor, and when I steal a glance at him he's studying my comforter like there might be a secret hidden in there. "It wasn't… it's not you."
"Oh."
I don't know what I'm supposed to say. I don't know what happened, or why he reacted like that. All I know is that I'd prefer to dig a hole to the center of the earth and disappear there forever. It would be better than being stuck in this awkward situation.
"It's just…" he says, adjusting the way he's sitting. His erection is still obvious, and it's probably uncomfortable. "It's just, uh… yeah, I'm a virgin."
Relief floods through my body as I look at him. The smile that finds its way to my face is uncontrollable. "You are?" I say.
He flops onto his back. "Make fun of me all you want. I didn't wanna say anything… I didn't think we'd get this far, we're drunk… it's… I don't know."
"No, I am, too," I say, positioning myself on my hands and knees to look at his face.
"What?" he says. "Drunk? I know."
I sit back down as he looks at me again. "No, no," I say. "A virgin. I didn't wanna say anything either." I recall back to just seconds ago when I'd made such a brash move and grabbed him. "Sorry about… before. I don't know what I'm doing, really."
"Yeah, me neither," he says.
"You seemed like you did."
"Well, you did, too," he says, eyes wide.
I start to laugh, though I'm not sure why. Maybe it's the whole thing. Plus, I get really giggly when I'm drunk. It's a thing.
"What's funny?" he asks.
"I don't know," I admit, moving to lie on my stomach. With him still resting on his back, it puts us parallel so my head is level with his chest. He turns to look at me, chin crinkling, and I watch him with my fists under my chin.
He pokes the middle of my forehead, then an eyebrow, then gently touches the tip of my nose. He's smiling about nothing just like I am.
"Honestly, I don't have much experience at all," I say, then look at him pointedly. "And know… for a fact, that I would never tell you this sober."
He laughs, mouth wide open. "Yeah, same."
"Whatever. You're a blabbermouth without the alcohol."
"I take offense to that," he says, pretending to be hurt.
"Are you self conscious about it?" I ask, blinking into his eyes while searching for an answer.
"About being a blabbermouth?" he asks, trying to keep a serious face. It doesn't last long though, before his lips wobble and he breaks into a huge smile.
"You're an idiot," I say, grinning too. "No. About being a…" I widen my eyes for effect and he nods solemnly. "'Cause I am."
"Beca Mitchell? Self conscious?" He shakes his head. "Unheard of."
"You're not helping."
He chuckles to himself, moving to rest his hands behind his head and stare at the ceiling. I furrow my eyebrows and place one hand on his chest, jostling him.
"Are you, or what?" I ask again.
"I don't know," he says, tossing his head to one side. "The room's spinning."
I huff and roll my eyes, still studying him.
"You're staring," he says.
"I'm thinking."
"About what?"
I sit up, crossing my legs as he still lies flat. "We could help each other," I say, testing the waters. The idea is beyond stupid, but I never claimed to be smart while drunk.
"How?"
"We could like… practice on each other," I say. "And give each other tips… so, when we do the real thing with someone, we aren't totally shitty at it."
He looks at me confusedly. "What?" he says.
"Come on," I say, getting excited by the idea. "It can be like, a no-strings-attached thing. It doesn't have to be serious."
"You just mean… kissing, right?" he asks.
I shrug one shoulder, because that isn't all I mean. I mean everything, but I don't know how to say it quite yet. "Um… we'll figure it out," I say.
He closes his eyes for a long moment and takes a deep breath. "I mean… sure," he says. "What's there to lose?"
I smile brightly and brace my hands on his chest, kissing him heartily as he wraps his arms around the small of my bare back. I let myself relax on top of him, our chests pressed together with our legs next to each other on the bed, and try to get better at kissing.
"Is the tongue good?" I ask, pulling away. I keep my face close, because I don't have another option. He doesn't unwind his arms around my back. "Or is it too much?"
"Uh…" he says, eyes flitting to my mouth. "I don't know?"
"That's the point of this whole thing," I say, a bit snappily. "We're supposed to help each other."
"Do it again," he says, and I try to get just as into it as I was the first time. I part my lips and slip my tongue into his mouth, touching his while the pads of his fingers dig into my skin. When we come up for air, the apples of his cheeks are flushed. "No, it's good," he says.
"But is it too much?" I say.
He shakes his head no, so I decide to take his word for it and kiss him again.
We spend a lot of time making out, and with the lights still on, we fall asleep with bruised lips. I wake up hours later, completely confused, half of my body resting on his. When I look at the clock, I see that it's almost 4am; I have a pounding headache and class in 4 hours.
I look at Jesse's face, completely calm and serene, and feel something twist in my belly. Like a twitch or a nervous jump, a butterfly or something. I push it away, though, and nudge his shoulder so he'll wake up.
He's not easy to rise, that's for sure. It takes a few tries and a significantly strong shove to even get him to stir. And when he comes to the surface, he's foggy and out of it.
"Jesse," I hiss, standing up. "We accidentally fell asleep. You… you should go home."
He squints against the harsh light, rubbing his eyes while lifting himself onto an elbow. "Wait, what?" he rasps.
"It's 4am," I say. "And I have class in the morning. You…" I don't know how to say that I'm kicking him out without sounding rude, so I need him to pick up the hint. "Um…"
"Oh," he says. "Yeah. Sure, right."
I cross my arms to cover myself, standing in the middle of the room in rumpled jeans, a bra, and socks. Though we'd been all over each other hours ago, now I feel exposed. I don't know why, but it's not a good feeling. I need my space.
"See you tomorrow, maybe," he says.
"I'll text you," I murmur, opening the door and shielding myself with it as he leaves. I close it after he walks out, without watching him disappear down the hallway. I have to take care of whatever's going on inside my head first.
…
A week or so later, I'm at a Bellas rehearsal.
I can't help but feel nervous after two girls were kicked out of the group after being 'Treble-boned,' as Aubrey so quaintly put it. It's not a lie to say I wasn't, but I have a feeling that what Jesse and I did wouldn't fly in her book.
So, as I try not to stare at the innocent girl dragging her chair out of the room, I bite the inside of my cheek and wonder what it would mean if we got caught. I try and tell myself that I wouldn't care; that this group doesn't mean much to me, but it's not a very convincing thought. I think I'd be pretty upset if I got kicked out, though I'd never, ever show it. But I also don't want to stop what I'm doing with Jesse, so I'm stuck.
The rule is stupid, that's the problem. Aubrey is too controlling, trying oversee not only every ounce of our free time, but our sex lives, too. Sex life. It's a weird term to even think about, seeing as I don't really have one. Kind of. Maybe.
All I want to do is get rehearsal out of my mind, namely how horrible the song choice is. But I'm not so lucky, because as I turn away while looking at the pages I hear, "Beca? A word?"
My stomach sinks. She knows. She definitely knows.
I stop myself before my thoughts get away from me. What do I care if she knows? She has no hold over me. So, I steel myself and turn around, prepared for whatever's to come.
"What's up?" I say, turning to approach her.
"You know, you'll have to take those ear monstrosities out for the fall mixer," she says, clasping her hands together.
I squint a bit and look at her sideways. "You really don't like me, do you?" I ask, getting right to the point.
She's perky as ever when she responds with, "I don't like your attitude."
"You don't even know me," I say, shaking my head.
"I know you have a toner for Jesse," she says, head twitching.
My throat clogs, but I beg the signs not to show. I have a feeling she'd go in for the kill if I gave anything away. "What?" I say, trying to seem oblivious.
"A toner," she says. "A musical boner. I saw it at Hood Night. It's distracting."
"Yeah, that's not a thing," I say, refusing to entertain whatever this is. "And you're not the boss of me. So…"
"You took an oath," she says, like it's the most serious thing in the world. To her, it just might be.
I look her dead in the eyes and say, "That oath cost you two girls already today. I'm pretty sure you need me more than I need you."
She gives me a hard stare, but says nothing. I think I might have rendered her speechless, and I'm pretty proud over that. She takes a deep breath, chest rising, and I let my eyes linger to let her know I don't plan on backing down.
I've taken a few steps away when she calls after me, "I can see your toner through those jeans!"
I flip back around like it's nothing. "That's my dick," I say, casually, which I'm sure she hates.
After I leave, though, the worries get to me. I show up at the radio station feeling down and out, but my spirits are lifted a bit after seeing Jesse is already there.
"Becs in effects, y'all," he says, lifting his eyes from the stack of CDs to smile at me. "She made it."
"Hey," I say, shuffling inside and glancing in the booth where Luke is ignoring our existences as always.
"What's up with you?" Jesse asks, pausing the movement of his fingers while studying me. "Something wrong?"
I sigh and shrug my messenger bag off my shoulder, then look back to make sure Luke isn't lurking. It's not like he'd care, but I still don't want to air out my personal business.
"Just came from rehearsal," I say.
"Yeah?" he says. "Was it that bad?"
"Well…" I say. "Actually, yes. We're horrible. No one knows what they're doing, the music is outdated, it all pretty much sucks."
"So, that's why you're in the dumps?"
I shrug and make a noncommittal sound, getting to work on alphabetizing the CDs where I left off yesterday. Even as I work, I can feel Jesse's eyes on me, though. I know I won't get away with not telling him; he's relentless.
"What is it?" he asks again.
I sigh, loud and frustrated. "Just stupid stuff Aubrey said," I mutter, eyes still on the CD titles.
"Oh," he says. "About the oath?"
I make a sound of displeasure under my breath. "She sort of called me out."
"Like how?" he asks, sounding worried.
"It doesn't matter," I say. "I'm not worried about it. Like, at all. She doesn't control me, no matter how much she wants to. I don't have to listen to anything she says."
I glance up to find that he's not looking at me anymore. Now, he's very intent on organizing. He says, "You know, we don't have to do… whatever we're doing if it's gonna come between-"
"No," I say. "She doesn't have that kind of power. She doesn't run my life."
"You sure?"
I narrow my eyes a little and ask, "Do you wanna stop?"
His face softens when his eyes meet mine, and I feel that stupid fluttery feeling inside my chest again. My hands go still over the CDs, and he abandons his job to walk over to me.
"I don't, no," he says, skimming my body with his eyes.
"Good," I say, turning to face him. I look at his face and smirk, inhaling deeply so my chest inflates with excitement. "I don't, either."
"Good," he echoes, then holds my face with one hand. I stand on tiptoes to kiss him slowly, softly - the first one we've shared sober.
I rest my hands on his chest and lean in further, with absolutely no desire to come up for air. He holds my sides with firm hands, keeping me right where I am, and nudges me even closer when I open my mouth against his.
I hum against his lips, loving the way they feel against mine, and let him spin me around. He lifts me easily by the waist to sit on the table we'd just been working at, and I widen my knees so he can stand between them. With his hands on my thighs, spanning over them almost completely, I arch my back to get closer. My heart speeds up tenfold as the space between our bodies gets smaller and smaller, and I'm just about to lose myself in him when Luke interrupts.
"What did I say about no sex on the desk?" he says, sounding irritated. "I told you, I've been burnt before!"
Jesse and I scramble away from each other, both of us clearly flustered. Jesse's face is flushed and my hands are trembling. Also, I can't seem to look up from the floor.
"Sorry, man," Jesse says, filling the silence for both of us.
Luke makes another fed-up sound and blusters out of the room, leaving us alone again.
"Whoops," Jesse says, a laugh in his voice. "Um… well, Benji is at this magic convention thing for the next two days. You know, my roommate. Would you want to maybe come over tonight?"
"Sure," I say, hoping my face isn't as red as his. "I'll be there."
…
His dorm is cleaner than mine by a landslide. He leads the way in and flicks on the light, widening his arms out as if to showcase everything to me.
"Home sweet home," he says, then tosses his backpack onto the desk chair. "Make yourself comfortable."
I sit on the bed, hands between my knees, and give him a terse smile. It feels strange, being in someone else's space. I'm so used to being alone in my room. This is so foreign.
"Take your shoes off," he says. "Seriously. Kick back, relax. I can make some popcorn. Do you want some popcorn? We should have popcorn. I'll put in a movie."
I groan a bit while unlacing my combat boots and he notices.
"What?" he says.
"Nothing," I reply. "Just… can we do something else?"
"Other than watch a movie?" he says. "What, don't you like movies?"
I shrug. "They're fine, I just get bored and never make it to the end. They're so predictable. The guy gets the girl, the kid sees dead people, Darth Vader is Luke's father."
"Oh, so you just happened to guess the biggest reveal in cinematic history?" he says, eyebrows up. "No way. Movies make you feel something. The acting, the cinematography, the music. The music - that's what I wanna do when I grow up, score movies. I wanna bring people like you to tears."
I scoff. "Me? Feel something? Never."
"Yeah, whatever," he says, then sets up his blue laptop. "The Breakfast Club. Ever heard of it? Or have you been living under a rock?"
"Yes, I've heard of it," I say, relaxing back on my elbows.
"Well, you're about to get educated. Movie-cated, if you will."
"I won't."
He rolls his eyes and laughs, then pops in the DVD to the disk drive before getting comfortable beside me.
"What about the popcorn?" I ask, tipping my head up.
His eyes are practically glued on the screen already. "This movie's too important for all that crunching," he says. "Pay attention."
"Oh, sorry," I say, smirking as I look back to the picture.
In all honesty, I have no idea what goes on during the movie. I lose interest and can't stop thinking about kissing him - he's in such close proximity, it's hard to resist. But at the same time, I feel awkward. I don't know how to initiate things, or if he'd even want to.
But then, I remember what happened at the radio station just hours ago. He invited me back here for seemingly one reason and one reason alone - and I'd been looking forward to it. It's not weird to want to make it happen. So, I sit up and inch closer so our shoulders press against each other, but he still doesn't look my way. I glance at his open hands in his lap and make a bold move - I reach to take one of them, and he jumps a bit.
"Jesse," I say, and he finally takes his eyes off the screen and rests them on me. I wrap my fingers more confidently up in his and see the recognition flash across his face; he understands now.
"Sorry," he says, smiling. "I tend to get caught up in…" He gestures towards the laptop where the movie still plays.
"I got that," I say, nodding with a grin.
He reaches to turn the volume down, then comes back to wrap his arms around my waist. "Let's see if I've gotten any better since last time," he says, getting me on my back.
"Have you been practicing, or something?" I ask, confused at how that would happen.
He makes a fist and shows me the back of it. "My hand is very impressed with me," he says, and I roll my eyes and laugh at the same time.
The laugh gets swallowed by his lips on mine, though, as he silences me with a heady kiss. It takes my breath away and makes my heart speed up to a thousand miles per hour; it wasn't that I'd forgotten how much I liked this, but I didn't sit and stew about it every day since our last time together.
I'm glad we passed up the popcorn, because the way his lips taste is too good to be tainted by something else. The movie is only background noise now, playing under the sound of our breathing, soft voices and lips on skin.
We kiss each other senseless, until I can't take it anymore. I'm so turned on with the way he's touching me and paying attention to my body - I need something else to happen. I'm not satisfied with just this tonight, and I hope he's on the same page.
Our shirts are already off, but I pull away from his mouth for a moment to get out of my pants, too. As I'm lifting my hips to get them off, he stares at my face while wearing a bewildered expression.
"What?" I say.
He grazes my near-naked body with his eyes and drinks it in, pausing for a long moment on my black bra and underwear. "Nothing," he says. "Just… what are you doing?"
"You've gotten better at kissing," I say, sitting up on my knees. "Have I?"
"You were never bad," he admits.
"Well, you weren't, either," I say. "But better. Is it better?"
"It's amazing," he says. "You're… you are amazing."
I smile and look down, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. "Jesse," I say. "Does it turn you on when we kiss?"
Suddenly, he looks embarrassed while adjusting his arms to cover his crotch. "I… sorry. If that was bothering you, if it was touching you, it-"
"Just answer the question," I say.
"Well, yeah," he says.
"Maybe we should do something about it, then," I say.
He furrows his eyebrows. "What are you saying?"
"I mean, we got better at kissing. Maybe we should try… I don't know, going down on each other. We have to learn somehow. And… I've never… have you?"
He shakes his head.
"I've always been kinda freaked out by the thought of it," I say. "I don't wanna look like an ass."
"You wouldn't," he says.
"Pretty sure I would," I argue. "So, that's why we should practice."
"Right now?"
I shrug again. "Why not?" I clear my throat. "I mean, unless you don't want to. Then please, forget I ever said anything. God, forget all of it."
"No, no," he says, eyes wide. "I want to."
"You do?"
He nods, and my face heats up even though this was my idea.
"Oh… okay," I say, reaching for a hair tie and pulling my hair into a high ponytail. "Well, I think it probably involves you taking your pants off."
The apples of his cheeks turn red, and he laughs to play it off. "I wanna do you," he says, getting situated. "Ladies first."
"Oh," I say. "Are you sure?"
"Very," he says, then nods towards the pillow. "Go ahead, lay down."
Shakily, I follow through. I lie stiffly, though, because I'm nervous and can't stop wondering what's about to happen. This is like, one step away from not being a virgin. Oral sex is still sex.
"Do you have any idea what you're doing?" I ask, tracing the waistband of my underwear with both of my pointer fingers.
"Not a damn clue," he says, shooting me a nervous smile. "Just… you're gonna have to tell me what feels good and what doesn't."
"Okay," I say, stomach jumping with nerves. "Um… do you wanna take my underwear off, or should I?"
"I can," he says. "Just lift up."
I close my eyes and raise my hips, feeling myself become completely bared for him. I've never been naked in front of a guy before; this is the closest I've ever been. I keep my bra on because I can only handle so much at once. I'm pretty sure he's in the same boat.
"Whoa," he says.
"Don't say 'whoa,'" I say, covering my eyes with my palms. "For any reason."
"Sorry," he says. "Um… I guess I just don't know where to start."
"This is why I need to do you first," I say, shimmying my underwear back up and trying to will away my blush. "Yours is easier."
"How do you know?"
"I've seen pornos," I say. "Mr. Movie, you should know all about those."
"Yeah, well…" he says, looking off to the side.
"Sit on the side of the bed," I say. "And take your pants off."
"Bec, you don't have to if you don't want to."
"It was my idea," I say, getting comfortable on my knees. "We're practicing. It's harmless. I mean, unless you don't want to."
"No, I do," he says, stepping out of his jeans and messing with the band of his boxers. "I just don't wanna make you feel obligated."
"You aren't," I say. "Just take them off, okay?"
When he finally does, I try not to react to the size of him. He's bigger than I expected, though I'm not really sure what I pictured. I've never seen a dick in person before, and it's a little intimidating. Actually, it's a lot intimidating. This must have been how he felt having a stare-down with my vagina a second ago.
I clear my throat and brace one hand on his thigh, then grip the base of his penis without warning or hesitation. He jolts forward, surprised, and I look up for validation.
"Was that bad?" I ask.
"No," he says, and he sounds strained. "Just… not used to it."
"Right," I say, then stare at it while trying to seem like I'm not. "Okay… I'm just gonna do what I've seen… actors... do. You can tell me if it's weird."
"I don't think it's gonna be weird."
I take a deep breath and start stroking him - slow at first. He extends his arms behind him and leans back, never taking his eyes off me. I'm not sure how to move my hand, nothing is natural yet, but I do my best. And my best seems to be enough for him.
When he closes his eyes, I know I'm doing something right. I take advantage of his unseeing position and open my mouth, covering the head with my lips while watching his face. His eyes shoot open and roll back, and his hand comes to rest on the crown of my head.
"Jesus," he moans, as I continue to work him. "That feels really good. Damn."
"Good," I say, pulling away for a moment to catch my breath. It's harder work than it seems. People always make it look and sound so easy, but it's starting to feel like an Olympic sport. Can he just come already?
My jaw gets sore, but I keep going until his orgasm finally happens. It comes out of nowhere without warning to either of us, and there's not enough time to move away. So, while he's still in my mouth, he comes and spills himself down my throat. Not all of it makes it, though, and it's messier than I imagined. It's all over my face, and I do my best not to seem grossed out. I'm not grossed out by him, not in the slightest, but this wasn't exactly as sexy as I thought it would be.
"Shit," he says, reaching for some tissue. "Umm… you have some… just let me…"
He wipes my face and I let him, bending my neck so he can get all of it.
"Sorry about that," he says, stuffing the tissue into the trash. "I should've warned you, but it happened so fast."
"It was fine," I say, and notice the way he's looking at me is different. He can't seem to look away; he's centered on me like I'm the only thing in the room. "Was I okay?"
"You were more than okay," he says. "That was my first BJ ever, number one, so it would've been awesome no matter what. And number two, well, it was you."
I scoff and look down bashfully. "Weirdo," I say.
"It's your turn now," he says, stark naked as he kisses me, speaking into my mouth. "I promise, I can do it."
"Jesse…"
"I want to," he says. "I wanna make you feel like you made me feel. Just lay back."
"Okay," I say, doing as he says. I rest my head on the pillow just as I did before, and watch him with my fingertips resting gently on the plane of my chest.
He crawls over me, overlapping my body with his, and kisses my neck with a hand over one breast. He massages it slowly, hardening the nipple, and I can't help but whimper against his lips.
"Can I take it off?" he asks, and I nod.
It takes him a good minute to work the clasp, and I force myself not to laugh. I don't want to break up the moment. After he finally unclips it and gets it off, I can tell he's trying not to stare at my boobs. Instead, he lowers his head and presses his lips to my chest, showering them in kisses that make my body melt against the mattress.
"Is that good?" he asks.
"Very," I answer, finger-combing through the hair at the nape of his neck. "Keep going."
With his mouth covering one nipple, a hand sneaks lower to ease me into it. I part my thighs, feeling much more relaxed, and he slips his fingers between them to stroke me gently.
I gasp and open my eyes, and he continues what he's doing. The movement of his fingers is slow and thoughtful, careful not to rush. I appreciate it, too - it gives me time to get used to being touched like this.
I whimper when he pushes them inside, and he looks to my face to gauge my reaction. "You okay?" he asks.
I smile breathlessly. "That was a positive sound," I say. "Good sound."
"Oh," he says, still grinning. "Good."
He kisses his way down my body, pausing on my belly as it twitches. He smiles a bit, just to himself, and runs one finger along the peach fuzz near my belly button before kissing the tiny bow on my underwear.
"I like this," he says.
"If I said I wore it for you, would you believe me?" I say.
"Nah."
I just laugh and continue to watch him, my hands resting over my ribcage now. He pulls my thighs a bit wider apart and settles between them, making quick eye contact before touching me.
I close my eyes while he tries to find his way around. It's not exactly graceful, since it's both of our first times giving and receiving, but it does feel good. He goes slow, navigating where he's never been before, and doesn't say a word. I think this might be one of the only times where he hasn't had something to say.
When he finds something that's right, my hand jolts to grab a desperate fistful of his hair. I clench his head between my thighs without wondering if he can breathe, and he makes a satisfied humming sound.
"Is that-" he begins, but I cut him off.
"Don't stop," I hiss, eyebrows knitted together. "Keep doing that. What you're doing. Touching whatever you're touching, I'm almost… almost…"
He gets back to work and I do my part in shoving my hips against his mouth, and then it happens. My first orgasm with him, and it feels amazing. My core lights up, muscles tightening and loosening in spasms, and I stop breathing for a long moment before everything comes rushing back.
"Oh, shit," I sigh, running my fingers through my hair. "Shit."
He lifts himself onto his elbows and looks at me proudly. "I gave you an orgasm," he says, holding my hips.
"Yeah…" I say. "You did."
We spend a long time staring at each other, wondering what the next move should be. We're both naked, bodies touching, and there seems to be only one more place left to go.
"Would you want to…" I begin, but lose the courage halfway through.
"Have sex?" he fills in. "Because yes. Yes, I would."
"Okay," I say, laughing. "Um… do you have a condom?"
"If there's a god," he says, clambering off the bed to dig in his nightstand. I can't help but watch his ass as he goes, but he catches me with a swift look over his shoulder. "Checkin' out the assets?" he teases.
"Okay, shut up," I say, rolling my eyes. "Or I'm revoking my offer."
"Whatever," he says, chuckling as he comes my way again, shaking the box. "Brand new. Unopened. Mom got 'em for me."
"Do us both a favor and never tell me something like that again," I groan.
He laughs again and crawls over me, kissing my cheek swiftly before ripping open the box. He lifts out a wrapped packet, smaller than I anticipated, and waves it in the air.
"You know, I never got to put one of these on a banana in health class," I say, reaching for it. "Such a shame."
"You can try it out on me," he says, and when I glance between his legs I see that he's fully hard again. It takes all my restraint not to stare; it's still strange, seeing a penis in person. I was starting to wonder if they really existed.
"Do you want me to?" I ask.
"You don't have to," he says, sounding less confident.
"I kinda wanna try," I say, sitting up a bit and unwrapping the condom from the foil. "So… you start at the tip and just… roll it down?"
"I think so," he says.
"That's not very comforting," I say. "I'm not gonna get pregnant, am I?"
"Not if you put this on me," he says, gesturing to where it should go. "If it's not right, I'll just get another one."
"Alright…" I say, and do my best. It's a weird feeling, the way his skin moves and the way the condom goes with it. But I don't shy away; instead, I run my hands down the length after it's on to make sure it's perfect.
"Stop," he says, and I look up with alarm. "If you keep on doing that… I'm gonna… before anything even happens."
"Oh," I say, and laugh. "Oops."
He rolls his eyes at himself and lowers to kiss me, and we draw the moment out to last. I feel his erection touching the top of my thigh, and I try and adjust so he has plenty of room.
"Try not to kill me with that thing," I say, scratching my nails down his sides. "And… um, just so you know, I might bleed. There's a chance. I don't know if I will or not. Did you wanna… maybe, I don't know, put something down?"
"It's fine," he says, and kisses my cheek. "Should I…? Are you ready?"
"Yeah."
He goes slow when he pushes inside me, and I breathe through it. It doesn't exactly hurt - at least, it's not a sharp pain. It's more like an extended, slow ache that I can tell I'll get used to. It'll feel good eventually, but the idea of him being inside my body is currently blowing my mind.
"Y'okay?" he asks, sounding out of breath.
"Yeah," I say. "Are you?"
"Fantastic," he says, unable to keep the grin off his face. "Just let me know when you're ready for me to like, move."
"You can," I say. "Just go slow."
He listens to me - what I say verbally, and the cues my body gives him. As his hips begin to move, I try to relax and allow myself to feel everything that's happening. I don't want to miss a single second, because even if it doesn't feel the greatest for me physically - emotionally, I'm feeling so many things I've never felt before in my life. I'm sharing something with him that I've never given to anyone else, and he's doing the same with me. We'll never get something like this again, and that's pretty cool.
It hasn't stopped aching yet when he comes, and even I know it happens pretty fast.
"Shit," he grunts, still in the middle of it. "I… oh, god."
"It's fine," I say, brushing his hair back from his face.
He drops his head to my sternum and I wrap my arms around it, closing my eyes as his body bucks and twitches on top of mine. When he finally lets out a long, loud breath, I do the same.
"That was nice," I say.
"No, it wasn't," he says, then laughs. "Don't bullshit, Bec."
"Okay..." I say, drawing nonsense shapes over his back with my fingernails while his face is still hidden in my neck. "Okay. It was kinda bad."
"You didn't even come," he says, finally lifting up. "But I'm gonna change that. Don't worry."
He does change it. It takes him a while and I start to grow a little impatient, but he eventually coaxes an orgasm out of me with his mouth for a second time. When he's finished, his ego a little less bruised and he finds his way to my face again.
"I'm not a total loser," he says.
"But you are a weirdo," I say. "A very big one."
"I'm gonna take that as a compliment," he says, then sighs. "No, for real. I feel like shit. That should've been better for you."
"Jesse, a girl's first time is always shitty," I say. "It's our penance for daring to be women."
"Be quiet," he says. "I don't want it to be bad. You deserve better."
"Then… I guess we'll just have to practice."
…
We do spend a lot of time practicing. I make it over to Jesse's place almost every night, and when Kimmy Jin isn't there, he comes to mine. We have sex a lot. A whole lot.
We get better, too. A lot better. Practice makes perfect, as they say. We start to find a rhythm and find out what the other likes. Along the way, we figure out what we like ourselves - since neither of us really knew. It's a huge learning experience, and doing it with him makes it all the more fun.
But still, it's hard to know how to act once it's over. Usually, it's late at night and a twin bed doesn't really have enough room for two. Jesse puts a sock on the door that keeps Benji out, and I always feel guilty for banishing him from his own home. When we do it in my room, we have to work against the clock. Kimmy Jin hasn't walked in on us in the middle of the act - yet. But she has seen us cuddling naked a few times and turned right back around with a disgusted look on her face. I always make Jesse leave shortly after that.
But even when we don't get interrupted, I feel tense. We're not in a relationship, and friends with benefits don't cuddle. Even though we sometimes do. He's almost always sleepy after it's over, and sometimes I am too. Sometimes, when we're in his bed, nothing sounds better than to curl up next to his warm body and just let myself go. But so far, I haven't given in to those urges. That's not what we're doing this for.
Also, keeping the secret from the Bellas has been a huge burden. Jesse is seemingly around every corner, and sometimes the smile that grows on my face when I see him is beyond my control. I can sense that Aubrey suspects something, but she hasn't said anything yet.
But on the night of Regionals when he's about to get the shit beaten out of him with a trophy, I don't have a choice but to step in. I don't want to see him hurt. So, I take the heat and punch the guy, which surprises everyone but me. I used to get in my fair share of fights in high school and I'm not new to it, but the look on Jesse's face makes me feel a little proud.
What I'm not proud of, though, is getting put in handcuffs and brought to the sheriff's office. But, of course, Jesse is there to bail me out.
"Hey, Hilary Swank in Million Dollar Baby," he says, meeting me with his fists up like boxing gloves. I smack them gently, smiling as I come down the steps.
"You know, you only have to say 'Million Dollar Baby.' You don't have to reference the specific actress," I point out.
He gives me a serious look. "Damn. Prison changed you."
I snort. "Thanks for bailing me out."
"I didn't," he says, and I'm momentarily confused until I see my dad standing outside his van, looking angrier than I've seen him a while.
"You called my dad?!" I shriek. "Why?"
"They put you in handcuffs, Bec," he says. "It looked pretty serious-"
"That doesn't mean you call my dad!"
"Why are you yelling at me?" he says, sounding helpless. "I'm the only one here."
Rage twists in my chest and I spit the words out at him. "I didn't ask you to be."
He physically recoils, eyes wide and mouth open. His voice is much softer when he says, "I was trying to help."
"I don't want your help," I say, glowing with rage. "You're not my boyfriend!"
"Yeah, you've made that pretty clear," he says, so low that I barely hear.
I stomp towards my dad in my stupid flight attendant getup without acknowledging Jesse's presence any further. I can't even look at him, I'm so furious. This could have been over so much more simply - he could have paid the bail money and I would have given it right back once I was out. It didn't have to be made into this huge thing. But now, I'm in deep shit. Just when things were starting to look okay for me at Barden.
…
Jesse and I don't speak for days. I don't run into him until the radio station, and there's an icy silence between us as we work. I feel the icy stares from Luke, but I don't give him the time of day, either.
I know it wasn't right of me to yell at him like I did, but I didn't say anything that was untrue. We aren't dating. We never came out and said that we weren't, but we've never said the opposite, either. We just get together and have sex.
Sex that I happen to really miss. I also miss him talking in the middle of it, when I really wished he'd shut up. In the moment, at least. But afterwards, I always think back to what he said - whatever random shit it might've been - and how cute he is. What guy starts talking about the miscasting of Halloweentown High while trying to make his girlfriend come?
Not girlfriend. Not. Girlfriend.
We aren't. We're not dating, and he can't act like we are. We never talked about it. He never asked me, and I never asked him. He can't just go around assuming and acting like he owns me.
Sure, I might still be rotting in jail if he hadn't done what he did, and me and my dad are fine now. But in the moment, it was a big deal.
It doesn't make me miss him any less, though.
Alcohol helps, though. A beer or two in, and I totally forget about him. My mind goes blissfully blank. But toss a third in the mix, and I'm deep in my feelings. Jesse is the only thought on my mind - his face, what he smells like, how comfortable he is to snuggle up next to. I even start thinking about his stupid, crappy movies and get all sentimental about them, too.
Kimmy Jin comes home with a group of friends when I'm on the dorm room floor surrounded by empty beer bottles, and they all immediately frown at me.
"What's with the white girl?" someone asks.
"She's leaving!" I shout, realizing only after the fact that my voice is way too loud. "Going, gone. Goodbye."
I don't have a clue where I'm going, yet I head out into the dark anyway. My boots might be on the wrong feet and my scarf is tied all wrong, but the brisk air should do me some good. I shove my hands into my pockets and hum a number of tunes to myself, still able to keep the rhythm while drunk, which is pretty impressive.
There's not many people out, which plays in my favor. Appearing drunk off my ass to people I see every day isn't on the top of my to-do list.
I try to keep my steps from stumbling, but it's hard when the world keeps tipping. I find a tree to lean against near a dorm building, and when I open my eyes wide enough, I think I see someone I recognize.
It's unmistakably Jesse, wearing the same jacket as always, walking side-by-side with a girl, arm around her… heading into his dorm building.
I blink hard to make sure I'm not hallucinating, and the image stays the same. They walk in the front doors together and before I know it, my feet are leading me to the exact same spot. That's my boyfriend with another girl. I'm not just about to sit back and let this happen. What does he think I am, stupid?
The brash light kills my eyes when I walk inside, and Jesse is standing there talking to the front desk as the girl flits down the hallway.
"Hey," I say, trying to sound stern and angry. I think it comes out more wobbly than I intended.
Jesse turns to look at me, thoroughly shocked. "Beca?" he says, in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"
I saunter over, trying to keep my balance. I promise myself, after tonight, I'm never drinking again. I'm probably the lightest lightweight that ever existed .
"Who's your girlfriend?" I ask, popping my weight over to one hip. "She looks really cute and really slutty."
"Beca…" he trails off.
"I just wanna talk," I say, trying to sound innocent. "And smack her around a little, maybe. Got a sec?"
He shakes his head and says, "You're drunk."
"Barely," I say, and try to make my way past him before he stops me with a gentle hand on my shoulders.
"Stop," he says, then turns around.
My feet stay rooted to the spot. I don't move. "Where are you going?" I call, my voice way too loud yet again.
He turns around wearing a determined expression. "I'm telling her to go home, and then I'm getting you some water."
…
The next morning, I wake up with a killer headache, but I'm very comfortable. When I open my eyes, I realize I'm not in my room, but I'm in one that's very familiar. Jesse's.
He's right beside me, already awake, wearing a worn-in shirt with faded Star Wars characters on it. "Morning, drunky," he says, and his voice is still raspy. He must not have woken up too long ago.
I rub my eyes and blink hard. I slept here. We actually slept a night together for the first time. Too bad I was too drunk to take it in.
"Hey…" I say, still trying to clear my head.
He starts to smile, one that comes out of nowhere, and I have no clue why.
"What?" I say. "You're being creepy."
He chuckles and his chest bounces. My head bounces, too, and I realize I'm in the crook of his shoulder, his arm wrapped around me, holding me close. We're cuddling, and we didn't even have sex. This is like, a thing.
"You like me," he says, going singsong at the end.
"Stop," I say, ducking my head. "Don't."
I try and turn around and roll the other way, but he grabs my hips playfully and rolls me right back. I fight tooth and nail to keep the smile off my face, pursing with lips with determination. Of course, it doesn't quite work.
He pokes them with one finger, softening me a bit. "Do you want to date?" he asks. "Like, go on physical dates? And not bring home hookups at emotional low points or try to attack said hookup out of jealousy?"
I narrow my eyes, still trying to keep up my tough veneer. I squint further, tilt my head, and ask, "If you were my boyfriend, would you make me pancakes right now?"
He rolls his eyes and snorts. "Yeah," he says.
I flash a satisfied smile. "Then you're totally my boyfriend. Weirdo."
He smiles so big I swear it breaks him in two, then holds the side of my face with one hand to kiss me. I throw an arm around his waist and break apart to giggle, then go back and kiss him again.
After, as I look into his eyes, words buzz at the base of my throat that desperately need to come out, and I decide there's no better time than right now for that to happen.
"Also," I say. "I do like you. Like, a lot. It's freaky and weird, and I don't wanna talk about it. I just want pancakes."
He smiles, but this time it's soft. He runs this thumb over the apple of my cheek, gives me a kiss and says, "Fair enough."