The first time you wake up that night, you startle at the sight of someone's arms wrapped around your torso. They're not even holding you tight, yet you feel like you're suffocating. You're quickly able to free yourself from the limbs hanging over you which is when you're able to see the person they belong to.
You relax and lie against the wall. You fall asleep again fast.
The second time you wake up is because of the lack of air, and, again, your body startles. There's someone lying on your chest, you knew that even before your eyes opened, but now that you can see ginger hair taking up your eyesight, you're able to breathe again.
You sigh and close your eyes. You fall asleep again fast.
The third time, there's no legs draping over your thighs or heads on your chest, but something has yet again taken the air from your lungs. You turn to see the person lying completely still and a few inches away from you. Your eyes follow her curves down to where you see your hands are enlaced and it all makes sense then.
You're too tired to get your hand from out her grip.
(Sure, Beca. You tell yourself that.)
You fall asleep again fast.
The final time you get to open your eyes that night isn't anything like the previous times. There's no lack of air or lingering of your eyelids as if they were glued together; no. This time your eyes fly open and the bed's still creaking from Chloe's body movements.
"What the fuck, man." You slowly spit out as you rub your hand over the place just above your eye that she just hit with her elbow. The girl seems to be a light sleeper, because she lets out a hum and turns back to face you. You watch how she curls up against your side and slowly opens her eyes. You could have guessed what happens after that. Her pupils dilate when she meets yours and her lips work on instinct, you reckon, as you watch the corners lift and curl. She then wraps an arm around you and her face disappears into the creek of your neck as you feel her placing kisses there.
"Ho, ho, ho, hold up there, woman." You say confident and her head snaps back up so quickly, you gulp at the realization of how close her face is to yours. You remove her arm from your stomach, both to make sure she knows just because you let her sleep in your bed, doesn't mean you're up for cuddling now, and also to watch her eyes shrink in confusion, which regains you your voice. "Time for you to get into your own bed now."
"Why?" She pouts and you have to hold back a smile at how cute she looks. Within the blink of an eye, she's on top of you, straddling your thighs as she places her lips on your collarbone. It takes you a while before you realize why you were mad at her in the first place.
"Hey, no, wait." It comes out as a stumble, which you will beat yourself over for later. "You don't get to do this."
She rests her forehead against yours and her breath on your lips makes your skin gain goosebumps. "Why not?" Her voice is low now and you catch her staring at your lips.
"Because you just hit me in the face, dude! You slammed your elbow into my eye in your sleep."
She stares at you, probably wondering whether or not you're lying, and then falls on top of you and bursts out in laughter.
Great.
"Yeah, my pain is hilarious." You state dryly.
She recovers quickly and places her head back against yours, but you can still see the joy within her eyes and the way she's biting her lip to prevent herself from smiling. "Did I really do that?"
You nod and she chuckles before apologizing and her fingers softly move over your face to run themselves through your hair. They leave a path of smoke and fire on your skin and you have no time to put it out, because her lips follow soon. She kisses the place above your eye first, as if she knows that's the place she hurt. Or maybe it has already turned into a black eye, since she did hit you kind of hard.
Whatever. Now you have an excuse to wear sunglasses inside.
Her lips move from your forehead to your cheeks and your eagerness probably shows when she finally meets your lips, because she giggles and you hate it, so you bite her lip to shut her up.
You're only a few minutes into your make out session when you hear your phone buzz. You ignore it, obviously. You hate people who drop everything just to check on their phones. You see it all the time, couples dancing to your music in the club when one person reaches for their pocket faster than light and they practically run out of the club. You see it in stores, and bars, and even Luke does it. You'll be halfway through a conversation with him when you hear My Chemical Romance's 'Na Na Na' blast out his pants. You guess that's different, since that's work.
Work
Shit
You would've said it out loud if Chloe's tongue wasn't roaming your mouth, which you have to do something about immediately or you won't ever make it to work, so you pull back and she sits back on your lap. You miss her warmth as soon as she's gone, the open space between your two bodies makes your skin run cold and your back shiver.
Wait, what?
Ugh, Mitchell, get yourself together for fuck's sake.
"Everything okay?" She asks as you blindly search for your phone on the counter behind you.
"I have to get to work." You speak as you try to get her to move off of you. You need your phone, but you are not able to twist your arm in a way if she continues to prevent your lower body from moving. You groan a little when she doesn't get the hint and stays put on your thighs. "Beale, could you move for God's sake, I need my phone."
"Beca, you cancelled work, remember?"
"I cancelled the club. I still have to get to the record store."
She grabs your wrists and you really don't wanna snap at her like you usually do, but you need her to get off of you, so you can get your ass to work. It's like she can tell you're about to get pissed, because she releases the tension she had on you and instead slips her fingers between yours.
"Becs, I really don't think you have to go."
What the fuck is she talking about, of course you have to get to work. Luke can't control both the radio and the store. The new delivery of rock CDs came in yesterday, so you need to get that stocked. And you haven't even finished stocking the previous shipment. "I don't know what you're talking about, okay? Whatever you started here-" Your hands roam the air between the both of you in opposite of each other to make sure she understands. "-isn't more important than work. I have responsibilities, Luke is waiting for me, I have to-"
You hadn't realize you were rambling and trying to get up with the ginger on top of you, but Chloe must have, because she pushes you back into the mattress hard. Her hands stay on your chest as she keeps you in place. You wonder where that strength came out of, because her eyes are still bright and her smile is present as always.
"Beca. It's not even six o'clock yet."
Oh.
Ooh..
Chloe scooches closer until her knees aren't besides your hips anymore, but next to your chest. Your breath gets caught in your throat when she leans in even more and her boobs brush against your face. Then she moves back and sits down on your stomach, a sneaky smirk on her face that lets you know she put her body that close to you on purpose, one hand up and between you two, holding what must be your phone.
You have to blink a few times to erase the sight of your roommate's chest from your eyes, and then you're able to tell it is indeed your phone she's holding up and it shows she was right about the time. You roll your eyes and Chloe laughs at you.
What a bitch.
"How are you so cheerful anyway? Aren't you supposed to be hungover?"
"Nope." That's all she says before connecting your lips again.
Looks like you do have time for sex.
.
Somehow, you've managed to still make Beca late for work, which wasn't your intention, but you can't really say you feel bad about it. You got caught up in her. In her lips, in her touch, in the way she would pull you back every time you had to take a breath. Then you got lost in how she tasted, how you tasted on her lips, how she cursed out your name, how her body panted after getting her over the edge.
You think having sex with Beca is one of your favorite activities of all time.
"What are you doing?" You ask as you collect your underwear from where it was thrown to the ground earlier. You quickly hop back into them and go into the kitchen to make some tea. Beca's cursing and groaning in the small closet, probably looking for something. You can't make out what, since she's mostly talking in swear words again.
You're pouring yourself and your new friend a cup of Earl Grey when you hear something buzzing on the counter. You know it's not yours, because you have the default ringtone still set on your phone. "Oh, Becs, your phone is going off." You say as you pick up the thing to hand it to her. You expect to see something work related as the caller, but you're surprised to find it says 'Dad'.
"Yeah, it's probably Luke asking why I'm not in the store yet." Beca sighs.
You're not sure you should say anything. You don't want Beca to think you were snooping again. Which you weren't. You just wanted to give her to phone, so she could answer it on time. Your eyes just happened to land on the screen, since the item was in your hand and all. You weren't invading her privacy.
Were you?
"No, it's-, it's your dad."
Beca practically jumps out of the little space that's filled with clothes and her eyes find your reached hand with her now silent phone on it. She's only got one leg down her pants yet and any other time, you would be giggling at the sight. But you're not sure what Beca is about to say and you should probably stay neutral while you await her reaction.
You can feel the thing starting to vibrate again and you keep your eyes trained on Beca who's watching the phone without making an attempt to get it from you. Then she looks up and her eyes go anywhere but to your face, which is when you realize you haven't put on any clothes besides your underwear yet.
"Uh, thanks. You can just-, put it there." Beca stumbles as she heads back into the closet.
You do as she asked as you wonder whether or not you did something wrong here. Beca didn't seem mad at you. She didn't yell or throw a fit. She didn't even curse, which is a rarity.
You take your hot cup of tea in your hands as you think to yourself you may have handled this alright.
Soon Beca appears and fully clothed this time, headphones around her neck and her black leather jacket already on. She's struggling to get her shoes on as she hops around the room in an attempt to get ready faster, when she could just sit down for a second and probably be done quicker.
You don't suggest her this idea.
"I'm sorry I made you late." You grin as you hand her the tea you made and you think she can see you're not sorry at all.
"Why do I not believe that?" She chuckles and denies your beverage.
"Beca, you have to drink something." You say as you finish hers as well.
"Oh, I will." She says as she dives into the fridge and reappears with four Red Bull's pressed against her chest. "This is how I survive my morning." She winks and heads out the door before you're able to wish her a good day.
You text Aubrey if she's up for a run and you meet her fifteen minutes later outside of the chemistry lab. You have figured out years ago that that's the place just in between your two dorms. You had planned to bring up Beca and see if she could maybe tone it down a bit, but Aubrey has just received her grade for the English paper and she is furious with only getting a B minus.
She's still rambling when you pass the record store where Beca works. You've run by that place a million times, but now is the first time you take a look inside. It doesn't look as dusty and gross as the picture you had created of it in your mind. It actually looks rather modern and hip. You hear a man's voice blasting through the speakers that are on either side of the small building and you reckon that voice must belong to Beca's boss. Luke, she called him. You turn the corner with your eyes still glued to the place when you spot your roommate inside. And Jesse. You ignore the weird knot your stomach turns itself into and instead focus on Beca. She looks bored and uninterested as usual, which is nothing compared to the last time she was talking to the young boy. She was all smiles and talks then. Now, she looks like she wants to glare him to death.
You know that, because she's looked at you like that plenty of times before.
The moment you've passed the store completely and turn your eyes back in front of you, you collapse into a group of students. You smile bright and big until everyone of the girls and boys do the same and then you're back next to Aubrey.
"Chloe, where is your head at?!" She yells.
"Nowhere, I was just listening to you." You lie. You think she can tell, because she sighs in that annoying way.
"We have to talk about Beca." Aubrey states without slowing down her pace.
You indeed need to have a talk about her, but you wonder why Aubrey thinks so as well. You spent the entire way towards the Starbucks thinking of possible things your best friend might want to say to you about your new friend. You don't come up with any rational ideas.
"So, what's up?" You ask Aubrey as nonchalantly as possible while placing two latte's on the table in front of her and taking a seat beside her.
"The girl is trouble, Chloe. I saw it last night. You were wasted, so I know you don't remember anything, but she needs to go."
That's not true. You remember everything that happened very clearly. Well, maybe not clearly, but you remember. You remember drinking and dancing with the girls, you remember Stacie jumping on everyone's back, you remember Fat Amy asking you if you had any thoughts on Black Beauty. You didn't know who she meant, so you grabbed her face and smooshed her cheek.
And then you remember your new friend. You remember kissing Beca, flirting with Beca, dancing with Beca. Technically, you were dancing and she was laughing at you while trying to keep you from falling with her hands continuously on you. But you file it under dancing nonetheless.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Bree."
"Well, obviously." She says offensive. "Chlo, she was all over you!"
You start laughing without realizing it, but you can't help it. The idea of your cold roommate being all over you is hilarious. She was just trying to get some later, which she didn't, but that's beside the point. "Are you serious?" You're able to breathe out in between laughter.
"Dixie Chicks serious." Aubrey crosses her arms and glares at you and, okay, she is indeed serious.
"Aubs, ten minutes ago you were convinced she wanted to hook up with that Treble boy." You don't know why you don't just call him by his name. Somehow, this is easier.
"That was before I saw the way she looked at you."
Your heart skips a beat when you hear Aubrey's words.
"I'm just telling you to be careful. Maybe she's not a murderer, but she can still be a creep who takes advantage of drunk girls."
"She's not, Bree. I promise."
You think about telling your best friend about the deal you made with Beca, but you're not sure it would make any sense if you said certain words out loud. You've never kept anything from Aubrey, but after the event that took place between the two of you last school year, you don't feel guilty about having your secrets. You don't owe it to her to tell her everything that goes on in your private life.
"While we're on the topic,-" You say as you empty your cup. "-I think maybe you can be a little less mean to her, Bree."
"I am not mean to her!" Aubrey shoots back and you just hold her gaze as a response. You know she doesn't need an explanation. "Fine." She folds. "I will try. I can't make any promises."
That's good enough for you and you spend the next hour gossiping and chatting like you always would. You're happy that even after going through some tough times last year, you will always have moments like these and you know you can go through anything together.
Aubrey leaves to meet Stacie shortly after to go over some Literature. Stacie is great at science and anything abstract, but she's asked for some help on the other courses. You're glad Aubrey offered to help, because you don't think you understand it well enough to teach. This whole thing makes you think of Beca. The girl still hasn't gone to classes and you're pretty sure she didn't make any of her midterms.
She doesn't need straight A's, but you know that Aubrey won't accept any of the Bellas to stay with anything under C's. You have to talk to Beca and make sure she goes to classes next week. She can probably arrange something with the professors, so she can still make the tests she's missed, but it would take some work on Beca's account. She's going to have to figure out how she'll manage two jobs, college, being a Bella and everything that comes with it.
Chloe: interested in a hot drink w/ a hot girl? ;) ;) ;) (10:58)
Tiny DJ: oh my God (11:10)
Chloe: that doesn't sound like a no, Becs ;) :D :D (11:11)
Tiny DJ: fine but you're paying. Be there in ten (11:19)
That was easier than expected. You order an Iced Coffee for yourself and for Beca a Chocolate Dalmatian, since she seemed obsessed with chocolate chip cookies. You were introduced to that drink a while ago when you decided to try out everything off of the secret menu. You absolutely loved this drink and you think Beca will, too.
"Hey!" You shout out when you see your new friend entering the coffee shop. You wave to get her attention, because her eyes skim everywhere but in your direction. The waving helps get her into the right way.
"Beale." She states semi-serious. "I figured you'd be sitting at the window, in between all the happy people in here. Being all social and shit."
You chuckle at her choice of words. "I was, actually. Aubrey and I went to get coffee earlier, but I moved into this dark corner when I heard you were coming."
She glares at you, trying to look angry, but you can see her fighting back a smile.
"Here, I got you this." You say as you push the drink over the table and into her hands. She looks horrified at the cup and you can tell she doesn't trust what you've just given her. "It's basically a hot white chocolate with chunks of chocolate chip cookies in them. I figured since you-" Then she looks up at you, lips parted as if she's about to yell at you, her pupils are wide and shiny, but her face looks neutral and you can't tell what she's about to do, so you continue. "-since you're not a big fan of coffee and you seemed to like those chip cookies."
She exchanges looks between you and the drink in between her hands as time ticks by. You don't think about filling the silence. You know she wants to comment on this, but she's probably looking for words. You've learned by now she's not great at communicating, so you give her time while you take zips of your own delicious drink.
It's kind of funny when you stop to think about it. How quickly you've been able to figure certain things out about this girl. You can admit to yourself now that you had your doubts along the way. Back when she was distant and sometimes plainly ignoring you. You had moments where you thought she'd never let you get close, but even then, you never thought about giving up trying. Beca is too interesting. You want to know everything about her. You want to understand how she works. What makes her tick and what makes her tack. What makes her snap at you and what makes her laugh.
"You got me a drink with little bits of chocolate chip cookies in them?" She asks after a good three minutes.
"Yeah. Just see if you like it, if you don't, I will get you a Red Bull from around somewhere." You reckon the campus store must sell it.
"No, I-" She shakes her head and meets your eyes and then she smiles. You don't think you've ever seen anything as honest and loyal as that. As if it's a promise that whatever this moment is, it's real and forever. You smile back at her, because what else can you do when there's such a pretty sight? Then she chuckles and takes the cup to her lips. You watch closely and see her eyes rolling back into her head and a moan coming from the back of her throat.
You can't say you've never seen or heard that before.
"Oh my God, this is so good!" She breathes out quickly before returning the cup to her mouth. "What is it again, hot white chocolate?"
"Hmm-mm, with vanilla syrup, whipped cream and the chips sprinkled on top of it." You explain. "Is it good?"
"Good?!" Is all she yells back and you take that as a yes. "How did you even get this?" She asks after finishing the hot beverage in record time.
"Oh, it's on the menu. The secret one." You whisper and add a wink for effect. Beca blushes, so you figure it's worked. "Was Luke alright with you leaving early?" You ask to get a conversation started.
Beca leans back in the booth and her hands disappear into her hair as she sighs. "Yeah, shipment didn't get in yesterday, so there wasn't much to do."
You nod, but she doesn't say anything else. "And you don't have any classes today?" You hope you're as subtle as you planned to be, but by the look on your friend's face across from you, you think maybe you weren't.
"Okay, so that's what this is about?" She laughs mockingly, but understanding. As if it clicks. Which it should, because this is the reason you called her over. Yet it's hurting you to think Beca now assumes you just came here to lecture her. You also want to spend time with her, chat with her, laugh with her. "Alright, then. Spit it, Beale."
"Spit what?" You ask shyly, but your devilish smile probably gives you away.
"Whatever you want to so desperately know. But it comes off of your questions!" She warns you, one finger pointed at you and her body now resting on the table in between the two of you. "What are we at, five now?"
"No, I had ten!"
"Yeah. Five questions ago."
"I've only used two, you cheater."
Beca stays quiet then. Her eyes staying locked on yours, refusing to give up first and you happily take the challenge. Watching her is easy. Possibly the easiest thing you've ever done. Her features are exceptional. The way her locks fall perfectly fine around her jawline. The way she's leaning on the table with both arms, her left hand turned into a fist against the side of her forehead, the other hanging open and her pinky caught between her grinning teeth.
You could say that she's never looked more beautiful than right this moment, but you know that would be a lie. Every single time you've looked at her, she's looked beautiful. Whether she's been angry or at peace, she was beautiful to you. Different in each way, but special nonetheless.
"Ugh, you're the worst." Beca gives in and lets her eyes rest on the space around her, hands falling next to her in the booth.
You clap excitedly at your victory and she sends you a death glare in return.
"Shut up. You play dirty, Beale."
"We can do that later." You tease, and Beca's shocked face is priceless. "Now spit it, Mitchell." You reenact her famous words.
Much to her dislike, Beca starts to talk about how she has no time nor interest in following any classes. You know she would never give up DJ'ing and she seems to like the job she has in the record store, so you'd never even ask her if she would consider giving that up. Besides, you're pretty sure the only thing that makes Beca happy is music. You support anything that favors her in that way.
Yet you're aware something has to change. She can't skip all classes and think she can get away with it. Soon, there will be consequences that you'd rather not think about.
"Aren't you scared they're going to kick you out?"
"Not really." She shrugs. You see an emptiness in her eyes you haven't yet seen. It scares you, but awakes you at the same time. All the times she's told you she wasn't going to stay here for long. All the times she walked away without a doubt in her movements. When she told you she wasn't here to make friends.
You're not exactly sure you can connect those dots, but you understand each and every one of them better, you think.
"You didn't come here voluntarily, did you?"
"Not really." She looks anywhere but at you when she breathes out those heavy words. "My dad said he'd support me going to LA if I'd just try out college first."
You understand now. She's doing this for her dad, to get his acceptance. You don't really know why anyone wouldn't be proud of Beca for doing all the things she does, but you have a feeling he's not too happy with a DJ as a daughter. So you understand why she came here, now. Yet that's the only thing she did in regards of his request. She's living on this campus, but she's not trying out college like he asked. You wonder why she would go the lengths of trying to make him happy by enrolling school, but then doesn't go to any classes and will most likely be kicked out of college in a few weeks.
Why would she give the man hope only to disappoint him later on?
Like a lot of things, you can't quite understand Beca's move in this little game between her and her dad. But you don't have to understand.
"You know, Beca, I'm in my senior year and I have no idea what I'm going to do after school." Her eyes snap at your face for the first time since she started talking and she looks as though she's witnessing water burn. "You have the rest of your life figured out. You know what you're good at, you know what you want to become. That's special, at least I think so."
She doesn't speak, but her eyes shrink and her lips are pressed together as she nods. You think she gets what you're trying to say.
"And I don't think you should be wasting your time in a place like this."
You can tell she wasn't expecting that, but it's the truth. Beca's got everything figured out. She should start her life now, instead of drowning time on this campus until she's kicked out and let go. You ignore your personal feelings about Beca leaving, because this is her life and that's more important than whatever is building up in your stomach.
You've said what you wanted to say, so you keep quiet after that. You watch how your new friend is fidgeting with her jacket's sleeve, you can hear her feet tapping underneath the table and you think for a second she might get up and run out of the coffee store.
"I don't really want to be a DJ for the rest of my life." She says finally.
"You don't?" You kind of assumed she wanted to, since she's so passionate about it.
"No, I want to produce music."
You don't really know the difference between a DJ and a music producer, except that one of them makes you think of Beca in a sweaty, stinky club, rocking her mixing skills and getting everyone dancing, while the other makes you think of Beca in a suit sitting behind a desk, judging songs that people have made.
Although Beca in a suit is not a bad thought.
Beca explains to you the difference after you've asked her about it. Turns out, you were wrong. A music producer sounds a lot like a director of movies to you. She guides people in the whole process of making an album. She would still create music, just a little bit different than what she does now. More important than any of the words she's saying, is the sparkle in her eyes you see every so often. You know that's what makes or breaks this for you.
"That sounds amazing, Becs." You tell her honestly. You couldn't think of anyone more fitting for that job. She shrugs, but the joy is still to behold in her eyes. "But, don't you need a college degree for that?" The words have left your mouth without thinking them over, like truly anything you ever say, really.
"I guess." She looks as if she's never thought about that.
"Why don't we go to the Dean of Students right now and see what's possible for you?" You don't want to push her, but if that's her dream job, you want to help her get to it.
"No." She says after you've barely been able to finish your sentence. She's up on her feet now and she looks as though she might be panicking. Hands go through her hair and her feet move a bit uncoordinated from side to side. "I can't right now. I have to finish this mix I was working on."
"Okay." You say with a smile, hoping it can calm her down. "Maybe next week, then."
"Yeah, next week." She agrees, and with a "Thanks for the drink, by the way" she's out.
Overall, you think this has been a good step into your newly found friendship. You've talked for a bit. You got her to open up a little. Maybe even got her to reconsider leaving college. Yes, this morning has been good, you decide as you leave the coffee shop and head for the gym.
.
You feel your feet moving faster and faster once you get outside. This whole morning has been weird. First, your dad starts calling you again. The last time he did that was around three weeks ago, but you didn't pick up then, either. For a split second you had thought about answering. You feared something might have happened to him, to Sheila, to anyone. But you know that's just the fear that's been rebooted inside of you years ago. So you told your ginger roommate to put it back and you hadn't wasted another thought about your dad again until you were forced to bring it up during coffee.
But before that, another weird thing happened. That stupid guy comes into your workplace again, basically telling you that you could be beautiful if you took the earrings out and smiled some more. What a shitty thing to say, by the way, but alright. That was nothing compared with his lame jokes and attempts to get you to smile. You will admit, it was kind of funny when he held those records in front of his face and he tried to match their looks. But more so than not, he was annoying you. He totally did not respect the fact that you had work to do since, oh I don't know, you work there. And yeah, Luke is chill, but you don't want to be someone who only works when their boss is looking at them. You're glad the shipment didn't get in yesterday, because you would have never gotten that done with Jesse around.
Then the annoying roommate decided to text you. Seriously, why can't anyone understand that you're working? Anyway, you figured you'd rather be around her and listen to her stupid stories than wait until Jesse leaves the store, which could very well be never. So you accept her offer for coffee and leave the boy behind in the store. When you get there, you're introduced to the most magnificent thing your tongue has ever tasted.
A hot white chocolate with bits of chocolate chip cookies in them.
I mean, even the description is enough to make your mouth watery. You don't want to drink anything besides that drink ever again. But soon, the real reason why she asked you to come over pops out. The nosy snooper she is, she wants to know why you're not going to class. Not that it's any of her business, but you tell her eventually. You expected her to say that college is important and you should be grateful you have access to education and all that shit. But instead, she tells you that you shouldn't be somewhere you don't want to be.
Never have you heard someone say that you should make your own path instead of follow the one that's been lied out before you by other people.
You wish it was as easy as that.
Anyway, you're forced to bring up your dad and you wonder if she thinks you're a bad person for not answering his calls earlier. You hope she doesn't.
(Not that you care, though.)
But the weirdest thing of the day is that you learn you need a degree to be a music producer. Which is kind of obvious, but you never thought about it. You figured you could be a DJ for a while, roam into that world of music makers and then end up as a producer eventually. Maybe you're an idiot for thinking that.
(You are.)
Then Chloe asked you to go see the Dean to discuss possibilities and you couldn't get out of there quick enough. For months now, you've set your mind on leaving for LA at the end of this year. There was a plan. First, you go to whatever crap school your dad tells you to go. That kind of went wrong already, since the first school he recommended you had to send you away, because you got caught fighting one time and you spent a night in jail.
It was just one night, what a bunch of lunatics.
Your dad got mad at you, of course he did, but eventually calmed down and enrolled you in this Barden place.
Step two was to not go to any classes. Nailed that, of course. And you would work as much as you could as a DJ, to gain experience and maybe even a name, so things would come easier to you in LA.
But now the whole plan is fucked up. Yes, you want to be a music producer, but is it worth changing the plan? What would be the new plan, then?
Step one: go to all the classes, get good grades, last four years in this shithole doing just that.
That sounds like an awful plan. Your original plan is much easier. You're good at your original steps. You're probably not good at this new plan. What if you go to the classes and you actually try, but you fail your courses anyway? What if you get your hopes up for this new plan and it all crashes down? Then what? You can't go back to your original plan, then. That would be embarrassing.
No, better just to stick with the things you know you're good at.
You start your Fast Car mix as soon as you're in your dorm. You record yourself singing the version of it that you had in mind and you were right. It's finally starting to sound like what you need it to be. By the time your roommate makes it back to your room, you've just finished singing it and started to edit the song. You've still got the original Tracy Chapman version playing on your laptop and you're lucky you hadn't put your recording microphone away yet, because Chloe starts to sing along and she's got this one sentence sung so beautifully that you can hear it in the version you've made of the song in your head. You think about editing that in, just to see how it sounds.
She leaves the room shortly after and it takes you another half an hour to finish up the mix. By the time you're convinced it's perfect like this, you disconnect your headphones and let the mix play as loud as you can.
You need to hear it burst to the walls and back like it does in the club.
There's a few things that you need to adjust, but it's close to perfect. And you really like the one sentence you have in there that Chloe sings. Although it's not really a sentence, more like two simple words that she stretches out, but still. You think it's a little twist that suits the song well.
You save the edit and send Kevin the mix. You know he'll be just as excited as you are about it. And you have enough other mixes you previously made to spin at Flashin'. You put your laptop down and crawl under the blankets as you close your eyes quite satisfied with yourself.
You haven't even been able to fall asleep completely when you hear the door open and the humming of what can be no other than your roommate. She's whispering your name and you can feel your bed lower at what can only be her weight added to it. You're too tired to open your eyes, so you groan and hope she gets the message and backs off.
"Did you finish your mix?" She asks and you think it's kind of nice she's interested.
"Yeah, ' did." You mumble.
You roll around a bit, because you're no longer lying comfortable. You twitch and turn until you feel soft lips on your forehead. You open your eyes to see the girl hanging over you, a genuine smile and her eyes studying your face. You think she's about to say something, so you pull her close and kiss her lips.
It was just supposed to be a quick one, just to prevent her from speaking, but the feeling of her lips on yours makes you want more, so you keep kissing her. She leans into it and eventually rests her body on yours.
She chuckles against your lips and you know why. You've basically been lying there with one arm still against your side and the other around her neck. It always takes you a second too long to realize what's happening. You haven't gotten used to this. Where you officially move into that part of your deal and you're allowed to touch her. To actually put your hands on her wherever you want.
You choose her hips first. It's like the obvious choice since she's on top of you. Then you move them over her back. It's soft and muscled at the same time, which is strange to you. You keep them there for a while, moving your nails from her shoulder blades to the dip in her back, until she takes off her top and she holds your hands and guides them onto her chest.
You probably took a little too long. But, to be honest, you kind of forget time when she's got her tongue down your throat.
You flip her over, so you're able to properly take off your own clothes and you decide there has been enough of this soft kisses, boob massages, giggles and smiles stuff. This time when you drag your nails over her skin, it leaves scratch marks at her abdomen and you can't say it looks bad on her. You make marks until you reach her waistband. You kind of forget she was still wearing pants, so you make quick work of them and she's in just her underwear underneath you now.
She has a nice body. Hell, she has a great body, you can admit that. But you snap yourself out of that admiring state, because you know it will end up in you drooling over her like you basically did this morning when she was trying to give you your ringing phone.
Instead of doing that, you connect your mouth to her neck and work your way down over her chest and stomach. You make sure to follow the scratch marks and add some bite marks to her while you're at it.
When you've reached her thighs, you look up to witness the painting you made on her body. The sight makes you ridiculously proud, and you find her face at the head of the bed. She's looking at you with desperation in her eyes and you think for a second about making her beg, just because you can.
But then you realize you can't.
It's in that moment you find clarity about the deal you made days ago.
It's about getting each other off. Which, yes, you knew already. But that's all it's about. The kisses and hand holding have to stop, because the deal is this. Orgasms. That's all. Relieving stress for each other, because you live in the same space and your beds are less than three foot apart. Sex. This is just about sex.
Your mouth finds out how wet she is and her back arches off the bed instantly. It's not long until she's panting out the nickname she created for you and you let her ride out her bliss on your fingers. She grabs your face with two hands and she's kissing you before you know it. You kiss her back until she needs to fill her lungs with air, which is your cue to get up and leave the bed.
You grab a Red Bull and she asks you if you're alright. You answer truthfully, because you are fine. Nothing's wrong or bothering you. On the contrary, actually, because you've finally been able to figure out what this deal you so quickly made in that shower stall is truly about. You finally have some guide rules for yourself. You know what can and can't happen. You're convinced sharing beds is on the 'can't' side, as of now.
"Come here." She speaks slowly, and you know what that means, but you're not really in the mood. You don't feel like you need her right now, not like she needed you when you found her lust filled eyes begging you to touch her. You are okay, more tired than horny. And you now feel like you have some rules for yourself, which is why you deny her offer. You don't need her, so you tell her. You can tell by the way her jaw hangs open and she nods slowly that she's offended to say the least, but she moves away from your bed and that's all you wanted.
She tells you practice starts in four hours before the door closes behind her and you fall asleep alone, knowing you did the right thing. And when you do need her, she'll be there for you like you were there for her. Because that's what the deal is. No more getting coffee, no more talks about the future, because you are not friends and you won't ever be friends. You're roommates and it happens to be convenient for the two of you to have sex. That's it.
You understand now.
The faster Beale understands as well, the better.
A/N: Beca, why are you such an idiot?!
Anyway, let me know what you liked and want to see more of! As you lot probably noticed, I won't make a chapter a week, but I promise I will try and keep it around ten days! Thanks for reading and all the lovely people leaving comments! Much appreciated!
Again, the song is the remix made by Jonas Blue.