Seven seconds into the kiss and she can barely think straight when he puts his hands on her hips and pulls her flush against his body.
Seven minutes pass and the question that's been on the tip of his tongue since he saw her sing that song, their song up on that stage, finally comes out as he turns around to ask her, "So, I know you arranged that set list, but do they know why?"
She shakes her head, "It's an awesome song, and it doesn't require an explanation." He grins back at her when she adds, "Billy Idol was an idiot for passing it up."
Seven hours later and she wakes; her face just inches from his as they lie on the bed facing each other. It takes her a moment to remember how she got here, and when the details of the night come flooding back she smiles at him in the darkness. He looks so peaceful, and she wonders what he's thinking about in his sleep. As she stares at him, her breath catches in her throat as she marvels about how beautiful he is. His skin is flawless, his thick, slightly wavy hair is soft to her touch, and his chocolate brown eyes, although she can't see them right now, are so expressive and gorgeous that she finds herself getting lost in them. She reaches out and slowly trails her fingertips down the side of his face and along his jawline and he stirs slightly. Not wanting to wake him, she turns over, pressing her back into his chest, and he slings an arm over her in his sleep, holding her close to him. She smiles and falls back asleep, secure in his arms.
Seven days pass and they're lying together in her bed, her naked form pressed into his bare side. She's lightly tracing circles on his chest with her index finger and he sighs, closing his eyes at the sensation.
"Beca?" he asks tentatively.
"Yeah?" she replies, her fingers trailing down his bicep. She loves his arms.
"Was that ok for you? I mean, do you think we rushed into it?" he shifts on the bed.
"Yes. And no," she answers. "It's not like we just met, Jesse. We've known each other for months. You've been my best friend here for a while now."
"Good," he breathes a sigh of relief, "Because for me it was," he pauses, trying to come up with the right words, "A dream come true."
"Jesse," she elbows him playfully in the ribs, "Come on."
"No, really," he says seriously, "I've wanted to be with you like this since we first met. And then I heard you sing, and then rap, and I was a goner."
She rolls her eyes at him even though she's secretly thrilled at his words, "Dork," she teases him.
"When did you decide you wanted me?" he asks, his tone serious as he runs his fingers down the curve of her hip.
She thinks for a moment before answering, "That night we watched the end of The Breakfast Club," she admits, "You know, when we almost kissed."
"I remember," he says, "So why did you turn away then?"
"I was afraid," she whispers, laying her head on his chest.
"Of what?" he encourages her.
"Of how much I cared about you, of ruining our friendship, of growing attached to someone here when I was planning on leaving at the end of the year, of getting hurt, of complicating things," she explains.
"I think we've just complicated things," he jokes, his eyes shining, "Lover," he adds, and she tickles his abs. "Seriously Bec, I don't want you to be afraid. I'm not going anywhere."
"I know," she says softly, kissing his chest, "Now you better get dressed lover boy, because Kimmy Jin could show up here any minute now and I don't want her complaining about your nakedness."
"Kimmy Jin can talk?" he deadpans as he pulls on his shirt and boxers before climbing back into bed with her.
And when Kimmy Jin does return, she rolls her eyes in disgust at the couple as they sleep in Beca's small bed, enfolded in each other's arms.
Seven weeks pass and he arrives home from his summer job, exhausted and frustrated. His boss is a real jerk, and has him running mindless errands for him instead of working with music like he had hoped.
"Something came for you," his mother says as he enters the kitchen. She hands him a rather large package with his name and address neatly printed on top. When he sees that in place of a name on the return address it reads "Your Weirdo," he smiles and carries the parcel up to his bedroom.
He slices through the tape closing it and opens the flaps, to reveal a small piece of paper.
Just thought you might like a little surprise after a long day of working for your asshat of a boss. Hope you enjoy! I miss you. Love, Beca
He smiles and lifts the note to reveal some DVDs, each bearing a post-it note with a message.
On Fight Club: This is the best ending to any movie. Seriously, it's the bomb. See what I did there?
On Garden State: The soundtrack on this is phenomenal. Great closing song too.
On Watchmen: Can't say I made it through this one. This is for the nerd in you. But the opening montage set to a Bob Dylan song is fantastic. After that, I fell asleep.
He places them in a pile next to his bed and lifts the next item in the box. It's a rewritable CD with a note stuck to it that reads: Some of my mixes. Let me know what you think.
There's a box of microwave popcorn too, and a bag of M&Ms which she knows he loves to munch on while watching movies. He removes those to reveal a folded up garment with a note attached: I figured it's only fair since I stole your Trebles hoodie that I give you my favorite one in return. We can switch back the next time we see each other…maybe.
He smiles and lifts out the black zip-up sweatshirt and holds it to his face, breathing in the scent of her. At the bottom of the box there's a final note which reads simply: I love you, Becs.
He picks up his phone and dials her number. When she answers he says, "You know it's not really fair. You can actually wear my hoodie. Yours is child-sized."
"You got the package?" she asks, and he can tell she's smiling by her tone.
"Yup," he replies, "Thank you, it really made my day."
And later, she falls asleep wrapped in his hoodie while he curls up with hers, clutching it to his chest while he dreams of her.
Seven months pass and they're walking across the quad together, while he's talking on his cell phone, again.
"Sorry," he says as he hangs up, "That was Stephanie again. She's stressing over our presentation next month."
Stephanie is his assigned partner for his research design class. They have to complete a semester long project and then present it to the entire class, which counts as half of their final grade. Beca knows how much work they have been doing, but it just seems like Stephanie calls, texts, and meets with Jesse a lot.
And lately, these frequent interactions with Stephanie seem to be infringing on her time with him. When she points out that their last phone call hadn't exactly been project related, his reply is, "Well we both just hate the professor so much, so she gets it when I vent about him."
At first Beca didn't mind. She trusted Jesse and knew he was committed to her. Then about a month into the semester they ran into Stephanie at the dining hall. She was gorgeous, with long flowing blonde hair, curves, a pretty face, and a great set of boobs.
"You never mentioned how pretty Stephanie is," she had said to him later.
He shrugged, "I never noticed."
But it's later when they're in his room watching a movie together on his laptop that she hears his phone chime with an incoming text. He turns away from the screen to look at it.
"Who is it?" she says sleepily, yawning.
He laughs at whatever it says, and then holds up his finger to silence her while he dials a number.
"Hey Steph," he says into his phone before starting an animated conversation with her, leaving Beca to watch the movie alone.
Steph? Beca thinks, so now he's using cute nicknames for her too? Without saying a word, she picks up her phone and her keys and leaves the room, slamming his door behind her.
She's halfway across the quad when he catches up to her. "Beca! Beca wait!" he yells.
"What?" she snaps, turning around to face him.
"What's wrong? Did I do something?" he asks, out of breath.
"Oh, so now I'm important to you? Because it hasn't seemed that way lately!" she grits out, her teeth clenched in anger.
"What? You mean Steph? I told you we're working on our big project together. We're assigned partners, Beca. I didn't ask for—"
"For what? For her to be gorgeous? For you to spend most of your time now talking to her, texting her, and working on your project with her?"
He crosses his arms across his chest, a smile playing at his lips, "You're jealous," he points out.
"I am not! You're being an asshole!" she scowls.
"I'm sorry," he tells her, "I know I've been spending a lot of time with Stephanie, but I'm just so stressed about this class and she gets that. I don't want to burden you with it."
"I'm your girlfriend, that's my job," she argues, her back to him.
"Beca," he says softly as he moves to sweep the hair off her shoulders, "Please. I'm sorry. Stephanie means nothing to me. I love you."
"Prove it," she retorts, and before she can say anything else, he's swept her off her feet and is now carrying her in the direction of her dorm room.
"Jesse!" she hisses, but he ignores her and her attempts to wiggle out of his grasp.
"Keys," he demands as he reaches her building, and she reluctantly slaps them into his palm, having no real choice in the matter.
When he sets her down in her room minutes later, she still won't look at him. "You called her Steph," she whispers quietly.
"It's just a nickname," he replies.
"I'm not stupid," she continues, "I know you're a catch. I know Stephanie's not blind to that. I just, I can't—"
"Beca," he turns her face to his, "I swear to you, I look at her like she's my sister. There is nothing to worry about. There is nothing going on." He knows that because of her father, she needs more than words to reassure her.
He takes her hand in his and places it over his heart, "I am in love with you," he says softly, and her eyes fill up with unshed tears.
"I love you to," she sniffs, "I'm sorry I freaked out, I just get so afraid sometimes that I'm going to turn around one day and you won't be here. That you'll have found someone better."
"I promise you, I will never, ever do that to you," he whispers, pressing a kiss to her cheek, "And there is no one better for me than you."
"Prove it," she repeats, only this time her voice is softer.
He kisses her then, holding her hand in place on his heart, and she feels it beat rapidly beneath her palm. "Feel that?" he whispers onto her lips, "It's because of you, it's only for you."
She smiles finally, relaxing to his touch, and she returns the kiss, pushing him back on her bed as she tangles her tongue with his. She straddles his hips then, pinning him to the mattress as she begins pulling his t-shirt up by the hem. His phone buzzes again on her desk and she reaches for it, seeing a message from Stephanie. She types back, Sorry can't talk, having hot sex with my girlfriend who I am madly in love with.
Then she tosses the phone back on her desk, grinning wickedly at him as he gazes up at her, a mixture of adoration and lust etched across his handsome face. "You are so damn sexy when you're jealous," he tells her.
"Prove it," she purrs lowly in his ear and he moans, before flipping her over on her back and doing just that.
Seven years later and they're in one of the spare bedrooms in their house. It's early on a Saturday morning and she sits cross-legged on the floor in the middle of the room holding up paint samples to see how they look in the daylight. "How about this?" she asks him, handing him a blue paint chip.
"Don't you want to go a little more gender neutral?" he asks.
"What? Our parents don't like blue?" she questions. "This is going to be a guest room. Blue is supposed to make people feel calm and happy."
"What about green, yellow, or beige?" he suggests, "They're more versatile."
"I think this blue will match that painting I saw last week. You know the one we loved?" She turns to point at the wall, "We could hang it right there over where the bed is going to be."
"I don't know that we should be spending money on art for in here," he says, "Let's just keep it simple."
"It's not like we don't have the money," she counters, "Besides, last week you said you loved that painting."
"I do," he nods, "But I don't want to spend money on something that we're going to end up changing eventually."
"Why would we change it?" she asks, but the answer dawns on her before she can even finish asking the question. "Oh."
"Yeah," he says, looking at the floor.
"I told you before we got married, actually years before that, that I didn't know if I wanted children," she says quietly.
"I know," he replies.
"And I still haven't decided anything. As of right now my answer is still no. You told me you were ok with that, Jesse. You said that you still wanted to marry me, because you didn't want anyone else to be the mother of your children."
He sighs, "I know, but maybe I'm hoping you'll change your mind eventually."
"And what if I don't? Then what?" she looks up at him expectantly.
He shrugs, "I don't know."
"Besides, you know I might not be able to have any children," she's looking down at the paint chips scattered all over the floor.
"You don't know that for sure," he clarifies, "You're basing that off something some doctor told you when you were a teenager. There are tests you could have done now, if you'd just—"
"There's a reason I'm an only child, Jesse. My mother couldn't carry any more babies to term. I remember her last miscarriage, it was awful. I don't know if I could handle that," her eyes are glistening with tears.
He moves to sit down beside her, "Bec, we've only been married for a year. We don't have to decide anything yet, ok?"
"Ok," she says half-heartedly. She knows Jesse wants to be a father. She knows he'd be a wonderful dad. He's unusually quiet for the rest of the day, and she knows he's thinking about their conversation. He always gets this way when the topic of children arises.
A few weeks pass, and they are visiting Chloe's new infant son. And while she's awkward and unsure when Chloe hands her the newborn, Jesse is a natural. She looks at him from across the room and her heart breaks a little as she sees his face light up whenever he looks at the baby.
"Ok," she tells him on the way home from Chloe's that night, "I'll go to the doctor."
"Ok," he says, squeezing her hand, "I'll go with you if you want me to."
"No need," she replies.
A month later and she's subjected to a variety of invasive tests and procedures. The doctors are kind but clinical in how they explain each test to her. They tell her she'll have to wait another month for the results to arrive.
She tries to forget about it, and so does he. "It's just test results," she tells him one night two weeks in, "This doesn't mean I want to have kids, we're just going to find out if I can."
He nods at her over his dinner plate, but says nothing.
The phone call comes while she's at work. When her cell phone lights up with the doctor's number, she can feel her heart pounding as she answers it. The news isn't good. The gynecologist she saw as a teenager was right. She hangs up with the doctor's words on a continuous loop in her brain, "It is not impossible for you to become pregnant, but unlikely. And even if you do, it will be difficult to carry the baby to term."
She breaks down crying then, feeling as though she lost something she never really had. When her boss sends her home for the day after seeing her emotional state, she calls Jesse from the car and tells him the news. She's glad that she can't see him react, because she doesn't think she can stand to watch his heart break.
When he arrives home later that evening, he's carrying a bouquet of flowers for her and take-out for their dinner. He pulls her into a hug and kisses her hair, telling her that everything is going to be ok.
"No it isn't," she answers.
"Didn't the doctor say there's a surgery they can do that might help?" he asks.
"Yes, but it's only a temporary fix, and the recovery is painful, and it's very invasive and might not even work," she's trying not to just break down in front of him. She feels like she's failing him.
"Beca, don't," he leans down so that his face is even with hers, "This isn't your fault. I love you, no matter what, and I always will."
She manages to give him a small smile before they sit down to eat dinner together. He ends up falling asleep on the couch watching a movie, and she heads up to bed alone. It's then that she finally allows herself to cry.
She wakes around 3:30 in the morning as she feels him climbing into bed behind her. She's curled on her side and he spoons behind her, wrapping his arms around her. When he starts pressing light kisses to her neck and shoulders, she turns over to face him. She feels a pull in the pit of her stomach, and she realizes how much she needs him.
He closes the distance between them, kissing her passionately before rolling her on top of him. Pajamas are shed as they begin moving together. He pauses to reach into his nightstand for a condom.
"Don't," she tells him.
"Really?" he breathes.
"I just need to feel you," she replies honestly, and when he fills her, it occurs to her that this is what perfection feels like.
Two weeks later and she comes home from work to find him seated on the sofa, watching yet another one of his movies. She drops a plastic grocery bag down in his lap, and when he opens it to see what's inside, he looks up at her in shock.
"Beca, what—"
"I'm late," she explains.
They go to their master bathroom to take the test. He opens the box and reads the directions carefully, explaining each step to her. She's laughing at how awkward it is, peeing on a stick. They put the tiny blue cap back on the end, put the test face down on the vanity, and set his cell phone timer for three minutes.
"Can I be the one to turn it over?" he asks, and she agrees.
After what feels like the longest three minutes of their lives, the timer beeps. He stands, holding the test in his hand before slowly turning it over. His expression is unreadable for a moment before he looks up at her and says, "I told you it was inevitable."
"Wait, what?" she rushes over to him.
And sure enough, as clear as day, the test reads 'Pregnant'.
Weeks pass, and she safely reaches the thirteen-week mark, and spends the day telling her boss and coworkers the news. He's at work late, having had to attend a banquet for an important client. She's content to have the house to herself for an evening as well as sole custody of the remote control. She turns on a rerun of one of her favorite sitcoms, and settles comfortably on the couch.
She's immersed in the plot when she feels an odd sensation between her legs. She reaches down and feels something damp. When she lifts her hand, it is damp with blood.
"No, no, no, no!" she yells to the empty house as she rushes into the bathroom. She peels off her pants and sits down on the toilet. When she stands and looks into the porcelain bowl, it is tinged red with blood. "Please God, no!" She's frantic now, and rushes upstairs to get a change of clothes and to call her OB/GYN, who instructs her to go to the emergency room immediately.
She calls Jesse, but he doesn't pick up. "Jesse," she sobs to his voicemail, "I'm bleeding and I'm heading to the hospital with Chloe. Please call me as soon as you get this."
She lies on the floor with her feet up in the air, thinking gravity might help keep the baby in place, and is clutching a box of tissues to her chest like a teddy bear when Chloe arrives to take her to the hospital. She crawls into the backseat of the car and looks up at the ceiling, tears trailing down her cheeks.
She calls Jesse again, and again, but he doesn't answer. They arrive at the emergency room and check her in before assessing her vitals and then asking her to take a seat until a room opens becomes available.
"This can't be happening," she tells Chloe, "I felt him move today, I swear to you I did." They've been referring to the baby as 'he' even though they don't know the sex yet. She didn't want to call the baby 'it'.
She's shaking as they lead her back to an exam room, and a very kind nurse hooks her up to an IV and draws blood for testing. She's being wheeled on a stretcher into another room for an ultrasound when she sees Jesse running toward her.
"Oh my God, Beca," he's out of breath from running, "Are you ok? I'm so sorry! I couldn't hear my phone in there. I came as soon as I could." He's frantic, and looks as though he's been crying too.
She's never been so glad to see him in her life. They do the ultrasound with the monitor turned away from her so she can't see the baby. She's shaking so hard they have to hold her down, and she can't seem to catch her breath.
"Is the baby alright?" she keeps asking, but nobody will answer her.
They wait for what seems like years back in her exam room before the doctor finally comes back into the room. "The good news is, your baby is totally fine," he explains, "You just have a severe urinary tract infection which caused the bleeding. You're going to have to take strong antibiotics, but everything should be just fine."
They are relieved, and are told that she's free to leave. He helps her get dressed as the nurse brings their discharge papers. And as Beca's eyes flash over the words 'Threatened miscarriage' at the top of the paper, it hits her how much she already loves this baby, their baby.
And as Jesse sings to her growing belly later that night, she knows that everything really is going to be ok, as long as she has her wonderful husband, and this new tiny miracle now growing inside her.
