Aubrey's confused by Beca's text telling her to meet in the rehearsal space. Their agreement to keep the Bellas and their relationship separate extends to the Bellas' space itself. She hopes that it's just a good location to meet.
It's late, so the space is locked. Aubrey arrives to find Beca there waiting for her, a stuffed messenger bag thrown over her shoulder.
"Do you mind opening it?" Beca asks, gesturing to the door. "I promise I'll explain inside."
Aubrey nods, swallowing her need to argue, because there is definitely a chance someone will see them together if they're out in the open too long. It's late, but not that late. Besides, she'd rather argue somewhere a bit more private.
"So I know that we agreed that the rehearsal space was in the, uh, Bellas category," Beca starts. "But I'm hoping that the roof doesn't count."
Beca looks so hopeful and Aubrey is curious what Beca has planned. "I suppose that's fine."
Beca drags Aubrey to the far corner of the space where there's an iron ladder attached to the wall.
"I'll go first so you can enjoy the view, " Beca says as she starts to climb.
Aubrey scoffs as she waits for Beca to climb a bit before following her. It's a long climb, but she does admit the view upwards is nice. However, she also worries about getting in trouble. Students aren't allowed on roofs. But Aubrey's been trying to relax a bit more with Beca, so she tells herself to let it go. The hatch to the roof isn't locked which seems unsafe, but Aubrey continues to follow Beca onto the roof.
Beca leads Aubrey to an already inflated pool mattress. She sets down her bag and pulls out two blankets. She lays the first on the float and sits on it. She pats the fabric, encouraging Aubrey to join her.
"Water?" Beca asks, offering Aubrey a bottle from her bag once the blonde has sat down.
Aubrey accepts it and sets it on the ground next to her. Beca does the same with another bottle. They stretch out together and spend the blanket over themselves.
"I can't help but notice that all your ideas seem to be about getting me to lie down with you," Aubrey teases.
"We're star gazing," Beca pouts. "It's supposed to be romantic."
"Does that mean you know the constellations?" Aubrey asks.
"Uh..."
Aubrey laughs.
Beca elbows her and then rolls onto her right side, facing Aubrey, who in turn, rolls onto her left to face Beca.
"So there just happens to be a mattress up here?" Aubrey asks.
"Course not," Beca replies. "I came up here earlier to check things out and blow it up. It took forever to inflate."
"You're sweet."
"I just figured if you wouldn't lie on that couch, the roof would definitely be out of the question," Beca explains.
That is one hundred percent true. Aubrey leans in for a kiss. It's too soon for much more and they eventually pull apart, laying side by side, Beca's head on Aubrey's shoulder, allowing her to wrap left arm around Beca.
Aubrey's never felt more comfortable and relaxed with anyone. As is their way, they both seem content to enjoy the silence between them.
"Did you and your dad ever get along?"
Beca tenses in her arms, but doesn't make a move to sit up like Aubrey was expecting.
"He used to tell me bedtime stories every night," Beca eventually says. "It wasn't until years later that I realized he was just paraphrasing his favorite books. And even though I wouldn't go to bed without hearing him tell me some sort of story, his love of books and literature never really transferred to me. I did okay in school, but I never had that... academic drive. It was never said, but it's obvious I disappointed him."
"Beca..."
"Him demanding I come here isn't really that surprising," Beca continues. "I mean, it did catch me off guard, because I'd spent so many years trying not to think about him, you know? And we hadn't really talked in years—my choice. But there's no way he'd let his daughter get away with skipping college, especially if she could go for free. The fact that he offered to help me get to LA, though, that is surprising, shocking even."
"So you're still leaving at the end of the year?" It's too soon to have this conversation in relation to their relationship, but the question still slips out.
"Uh... probably," Beca replies, not sounding certain.
"Oh."
"You could come with me," Beca offers.
Aubrey has no response to this. While it's true that she could, it feels too soon for anything like that. After all, if Beca stayed at Barden, it wouldn't be solely because of Aubrey.
"I mean, if you wanted to," Beca says when Aubrey doesn't reply. "I was just thinking out loud. But it's definitely way too early to even joke about that."
"Sorry," Aubrey says. "I just... you caught me off guard, is all. I didn't think that you would even... I mean, like you said, it's..." Aubrey sighs.
"Can we just pretend like I didn't say that?" Beca requests. "I so didn't want tonight to be about our futures or whatever."
"I know," Aubrey says. And she does. Though the fact that Beca is even thinking along those lines is an unexpected delight that Aubrey can't let herself enjoy just quite yet. It's too soon.
"Good," Beca replies. "Instead, you can help me solve the mystery of why Lily's decided that she and I should be hanging out."
Huh? "What does that mean?"
Beca precedes to explain how Lily's been silently sitting next to her in the quad the past couple days. It's a strange occurrence that has them both distracted from heavier topics—those can definitely be saved for another day.
…
The next morning, Aubrey returns from her run happier than usual. She spent the time thinking about her date last night with Beca and she can't seem to stop smiling. She hums to herself as she opens the fridge and pulls out some orange juice.
"Someone's in a good mood," Chloe says, taking the orange juice from Aubrey and pouring herself some as well.
"I had a good run," Aubrey replies, setting her glass down.
"Oh, I thought that maybe you were finally relaxing a bit," Chloe says.
"It's the exercise endorphins," Aubrey tells Chloe. "Please let me enjoy them. Rehearsal starts in a few hours and I definitely won't be relaxed then."
"Are you sure?" Chloe asks. "Because you seemed, I don't know, less tense yesterday."
Aubrey takes another drink of her orange juice as she thinks about yesterday afternoon's rehearsal. They'd done a bit more cardio than usual which had resulted in a lot of grumbling, but everyone, except Fat Amy had done it. They'd run through the set list four times and Aubrey had only stopped because it seemed like people were getting tired enough to start making mistakes. "It was a typical rehearsal. And no one complained too much."
"Beca did," Chloe replies. "She was griped about the extra cardio and she was pissed for the entire last run of the routine."
Did she? Beca whining about the amount of cardio is standard, but Aubrey hadn't really noticed yesterday. She'd—admittedly—been a bit distracted by the texts that "dating Beca" had been sending her earlier in the day. "Beca hates everything I do. I wasn't in the mood to listen to her yesterday, so I just blocked her out."
"I don't think that's it," Chloe says. "I think maybe you might be starting to like her a little."
"Don't be absurd, Chloe," Aubrey snaps, panicking. "Just because I didn't feel like wasting any energy on Beca Mitchell yesterday, doesn't mean I actually like her."
Chloe looks hurt and Aubrey feels bad, but she can't have Chloe thinking she likes Beca. At least not yet; she's not ready. She throws Chloe an apologetic look and goes to shower.
…
Aubrey spends the walk to rehearsal trying to lower her panic. If Chloe noticed that she was being nice to Beca, then what if the others noticed too? That means, it'll only be a matter of time until someone realizes they're... whatever. And Aubrey's not ready for that. She's been enjoying the little bubble she and Beca have been existing in. Plus, Aubrey worries that she'll lose "dating Beca" if the others find out; even when it's just her and Beca.
Not to mention, Chloe. At first, Aubrey thought it was just an interest in connecting with someone who "embodies music"—Chloe's words. But as the year continues, it seems more like a crush, like Chloe might make a move if she was getting a signal from Beca. And though Aubrey knows Beca wouldn't deliberately lead Chloe on; she also knows that Beca is a bit oblivious. Aubrey's seen her with the Treble—seen how he looks at her. He's so desperately looking for a signal, thinking that Beca's friendship means that they might be more some day.
By the time rehearsal starts, Aubrey is a swirling mess of fear, jealousy, guilt and panic, which is definitely not good. She really doesn't need all that in addition to the usual tension she feels during Bellas' rehearsals. She takes several breaths and tries to calm down. She's not very successful.
Chapter Nine: Part Two
I'm feeling pretty good about the flowers. Though ma scoffs at romantic gestures, the fact that mom sends her those flowers every year has to mean something.
I find another hiding spot behind some folded up bleachers because it's good to always keep moving. Mom taught me that.
The rehearsal starts with cardio as usual. Mom seems extra harsh today, there's a lot more yelling than the last time I watched rehearsal.
I glance around the bleachers and see that I'm not the only one who's noticed. Aunt Chloe is shooting mom questioning looks, which mom is pointedly ignoring. The cardio also continues longer than expected. Despite my distance, I can easily see how worn out and irritated everyone is getting.
Ma is the one that finally stops and refuses to continue. Mom orders her back, but ma just ignores her and downs a bottle of water. Chloe slows and the others follow, watching Mom approach ma who is surprisingly walking around the chairs to—I assume—cool down.
"What the aca-hell are you doing?" mom asks as she blocks ma's path.
"Does adding aca make it not count as swearing?" ma retorts, stepping around mom. "Because then you should use something more serious."
"Why can't you be a team player?" mom questions as she tries to block ma's path again.
"Just because I refuse to acknowledge your dictatorship doesn't mean I'm not a team player," ma scoffs as she allows her path to be blocked.
"Dictatorship?!"
Ma smirks. "Did I stutter?"
Mom seethes for a moment and then says, "Who exactly are you trying to impress here, Beca? No one here buys your little rebellion act."
Ma's postures relaxes even more as mom's tenses. "Well if that's what you want to call me speaking up, whatever."
"You're disrespectful and disruptive," mom growls, stepping closer to ma. "The worst example of a Bella that I've ever seen."
"Then why don't you kick me out?" ma questions. "Oh, you can't. You need me."
"Oh please," mom scoffs. "We just needs a singer. You're easily replaceable. It's you that needs us."
"The hell I do," ma scoffs, leaning closer.
"Are you sure about that?" mom asks. "Whether you're kicked off or you quit, it still means you didn't last the year. And that would nullify the deal, wouldn't it?"
What deal is she talking about? I'm not the only one wondering. The other Bellas are sitting on various bleachers watching the argument with interest. Especially because the last statement has ma looking murderous. She gets right in mom's face and growls, "And you were so worried about me breaking the rules."
Mom looks contrite at that, but quickly resumes her glaring.
"I'm done for the day," ma says, taking a big step back. She looks over at the bleachers. "I'm out of here.."
Aunt Chloe jumps up and blocks her exit. "Beca, please." Her face is full of pleading and though I can't see ma's face, I can tell by the slump of her shoulders that she's going to give in.
"Fine," ma grumbles.
Aunt Chloe's grin is dazzling.
"But keep her away from me," ma continues.
"Of course," Aunt Chloe nods.
Mom, meanwhile, is staring at them, looking heartbroken and jealous. It is so dam obvious that she likes ma. Is that why she was acting the way she was?
I watch them go through the routine a few times, the whole space drowning in tension while the other Bellas constantly look at mom and ma, obviously waiting for another blow up. But they both behave themselves. Mom only giving the most basic orders and ma not saying anything.
So apparently the flowers weren't the solution I thought they'd be. Oh, god, what if the flowers are the reason mom is so pissed? Except, why would she be? How is it that after fifteen years, I still don't understand my moms' marriage?
Once rehearsal is over, I lean against the stack of bleachers and let out a frustrated groan. I quickly cover my mouth and listen. It's always possible that someone is around to hear me, but after a minute, I hear nothing. Relieved, I begin trying to come up with a better plan.
…
Watching my moms argue isn't something new. They've been arguing since the day I first stepped foot into the house. I have vague memories from the first few years of hearing harsh words countered with sarcasm. But whenever, I stepped foot into the room, any signs of a fight were nonexistent; and whenever we all spent time together, it was so obvious how much they loved each other. And it's not like it was the first time I'd heard grown ups fighting. At least they never yelled at me.
Still, I can admit, it made me nervous. Every time people got divorced in movies or on TV, it was because they were arguing all the time. Well that and other stuff, but still.
I was seven years old when I met Aunt Amy. She and the other Bellas were in town for ma's thirtieth birthday. Ma didn't want to make a big deal about it, but Aunt Chloe convinced her otherwise. It wasn't a surprise party, because everyone agreed that surprising ma wasn't a good idea. So ma brought me along to pick up Aunt Amy at the airport.
It was an interesting ride home as I watched ma and Aunt Amy together. Aunt Amy talked mostly, telling all sorts of crazy stories with ma occasionally cutting her off when things got inappropriate for a seven year old to hear.
When we got back to the house, I showed Aunt Amy to the guest room since mom dragged ma into the kitchen to talk the moment we got back. Wanting some juice, I headed back downstairs, only to stop halfway down when I heard my moms arguing. I almost tripped turning around, but once I did, I saw Aunt Amy at the top of the stairs. She listened for a moment and then beckoned me back up.
She was sitting on the top of the stairs and I joined her. We were far enough away that we couldn't really hear what my mom were arguing about, but I still remember feeling a little worried.
Though she really wasn't looking at me, Aunt Amy must have known I was feeling anxious. Because after a moment, she inched closer and said, "Look small fry, no need to worry."
"Okay," I whispered back, afraid of my moms hearing.
"I'm serious," Aunt Amy continued. "Your moms are two stubborn bit—women. They've been arguing with each other since the day they met."
"Oh."
"It's their thing," she explained. "Neither of them is willing to back down for anyone or anything, even each other apparently."
"Parents who fight, get divorced," I replied quietly.
"Some do," Aunt Amy agreed, wrapping an arm around me. "But your moms won't. They're so crazy in love, it's kind of disgusting. But that doesn't stop them from fighting. It's just how they are. But I promise you that you have nothing to worry about. Trust your Auntie Amy about this. Okay?"
Leaning against her, I nodded.
"You'll understand more when you're older," Aunt Amy told me. "This definitely won't be the last time you come down the stairs to hear them arguing. In a few years, you'll overhear them arguing and if you just listen, you'll hear how much they love each other. I swear."
All I could do is nod again. I liked Aunt Amy and so I wanted to believe her. So I did my best to push aside my worries until I was old enough to understand.
I don't remember exactly how old I was when I realized that Aunt Amy was right. I just remember one day coming down the stairs and stumbling onto another argument. But this time, I listened to their tone and not their words and suddenly Aunt Amy's words made sense. For whatever reason, arguing with each other made them happy.
…
Desperate times call for desperate measures. Things between my moms actually seem to be getting worse. The argument I witnessed earlier was bad; ma's never threatened to leave before. I wonder if I should be as surprised as I am.
It's not like my moms' relationship is like other parents. Once I'd figured it out, it'd seemed endearing and confusing; but as long as they seemed happy. At the moment it's frustrating as hell. Pacing in the empty rehearsal space, I decide the best thing to do is lock them in a closet together and force them to realize they're perfect for each other.
The next question is how to get them here to do it. The rehearsal space just makes sense. It's probably the easiest place to trick them into coming to. And having spent so much time here, I feel familiar enough with it to plan things out properly.
Coming up with a way to get them both here is still a bit difficult. I finally decide to seek out Aunt Lily's help again. I quickly jump to the next day and head out to the quad until I see her and chase after her.
"Come up with another plan?" she asks as I fall into step with her.
"Sort of," I reply. "I'm just not sure of a couple of things."
I explain my plan to lock them in a closet together and how I know how to get mom back to the rehearsal space. Ma is a little tougher.
"I have a few ideas," Aunt Lily says.
"Ones where ma will remain conscious the entire time?" I question.
"All right, I have one idea," she amends. "When do you want to do this?
"When do you have rehearsal today?" I ask.
"It's our day off," she answers. "It's the only day where all our schedules didn't mesh."
"Perfect," I say. "Do you remember if my moms are busy?"
She pulls out her phone and checks the time. "They should both be free in about an hour."
"Great, meet me in the rehearsal space in an hour?"
She nods. "See you later."
I spend the time figuring out exactly what I want to say to mom to get her here. I pray that the timing will work out. Because I can't imagine either of them remaining quiet after being locked in a closet.
As the time draws near, I pick the lock and open the maintenance closet in the far corner. I leave it open just enough and pray that it doesn't somehow close. I'm pretty sure mom would find it suspicious if I'm picking the lock instead of using a key.
I then choose a spot to hide. It's close enough that I should be able to keep an eye on the door, but far enough away to not really be noticed. It also has room for Aunt Lily if she wants to stay.
Aunt Lily shows up fifteen minutes later. She texts ma explain that she has to come to the rehearsal space ASAP. She starts to hand her phone over to me to call mom, but changes her mind and instead, seems to be reprogramming it. Once finished, she hands it to me.
"Should come up as an unknown number this way," she explains. "That way it'll seem like it's really from maintenance."
Her attention to detail is one of the reason I wanted to learn from her. It's cool that it's apparently true in the past as well.
I dial mom's number and weave my string of lies about there being a problem in the space that she should look at immediately. It takes a bit of convincing, but eventually she agrees. I hand Aunt Lily her phone back and she makes herself scarce.
Mom shows up first and I begin leading her to the maintenance closet. Just as we're in front of it, ma arrives. Hearing us, she walks towards us as I'm opening the door.
"What are you doing here?" ma asks mom.
"There's a maintenance problem," mom replies. "What are you doing here?"
"I got a text telling me to rush over," ma explains. She looks at me and I can practically see the recognition dawning on her.
"Hey! I know you—"
I shove them both in the dark closet and pull the door shut, it locking automatically.
Immediately they're banging on the door and shouting. I walk away, trying to make as much sound as possible so they realize I'm leaving and that they're alone. Hopefully this way, they won't spend all their time shouting for help.
"That went better than I expected," I say quietly as I join Aunt Lily behind stacks of chairs. "How'd you know ma would show up after mom?"
"It just makes sense," she replies.
The banging and shouting dies down after a few minutes and now it's just a matter of waiting. I hadn't really thought about how long they should stay in there. But a couple of hours seem like decent amount of time.
I settle back against the chairs with Aunt Lily. She hands me a book and opens up a text book. I look at the cover and see that it's, A Brief History of Time, one of the first books she had me read. Grinning, I settle back and start reading.
A mere twenty minutes later, I see and hear something I probably should have expected: the door being taken off its hinges and being pulled into the closet, allowing my moms to exit. Mom is furious and storms out. Ma is irritated, but seems more intrigued by what she just witnessed. Her exit is more of a stroll.
Once they're gone, we both stand and walk over to the closet. Aunt Lily leans in and looks. "She took the hinges off."
I nod.
"Impressive," she says. "Shouldn't you have expected that?"
I nod again.
…
Mom always says she opened The Lodge at Fallen Leaves because of her knack for barking orders and bending people's wills. But it always seemed to me that it was also because of the wilderness survival skills she learned from her dad growing up; skills she passed on to me.
Summer vacations were spent with mom, watching her order people around and forcing them to perform ridiculous physical tasks. In between, she taught me how to swim, shoot a gun, build a fire, making purified drinking water and other survival skills. I learned how to use all sort of tools and solve problems like changing a flat tire or fix a leaky faucet.
Summer vacation was my favorite time of year. Not just because of the time off from school, but because I got to spend time with mom learning stuff I'd never learn in school. Mom was a big believer in academics, but she also thought education should encompass more than just books. It's why she, reluctantly, allowed me to spend time with Aunt Lily.
The summer before I started high school, mom gave me a Swiss Army Knife, a box of waterproof matches and a compass. She then blindfolded me and drove me into the woods. Once the blindfold was removed, I was told I had to find my way back using everything mom taught me over the years.
Though I hadn't be expecting it, a test like this seemed like the perfect culmination of all the things I'd been taught over the years. Ma didn't exactly see it the same way.
I still remember the argument between my moms as I was driven around in circles, so I wouldn't know exactly where I was.
"This is such a bad idea."
"She has a compass and a knife. Not to mention matches."
"You don't think it's a bit dangerous?" ma asked.
"Perhaps if she didn't have the knife," mom replied. "But I've been teaching her for years. She'll be fine."
"She's fourteen!"
"I know how old she is," mom said. "Besides, my dad did the same thing to me when I was ten. And I turned out just fine."
"I'm not so sure about that."
"Says the woman who proposed to me."
"Hey, I've already admitted that I'm messed up, Bree," ma argued.
"So then there's nothing to worry about," mom said.
"You don't think it's a little crazy to leave a teenager in the middle of the woods and just hope she makes it back?" ma questioned.
"So you're saying that I'm a bad teacher?"
"Of course not."
"Then you're saying that Claire hasn't learned anything over the years," mom continued.
"You know I'm not," ma growls. She always worried that her attitude would have a negative effect on me.
"Then I'm confused about what the problem is."
Ma huffed in annoyance. "Sorry for being concerned about our daughter's safety."
I was still blindfolded, but it was obvious that ma was sulking at this point. She hates losing an argument. Mom hates it too, but she usually just gets more irritated. Ma pouts, though she always vehemently denies it..
"I'll be all right ma," I spoke up. "I want to do this."
"Of course you do," ma grumbled. "You're just as crazy as she is."
"I know. It's great, isn't it?" I smirked, knowing how much she adores mom.
"I hate you both," she groused.
Mom laughed softly.
The rest of the drive was spent in silence. When we finally arrived, ma refused to get out. She sullenly wished me good luck, leaned her head against the car window and closed her eyes.
Mom got out, chuckling and gave me a few last minute instructions.
"How long do you think ma will stay mad?" I asked.
"She'll be fine once you make it back," mom replied. "You know how she worries."
"I do not!" ma shouted.
Mom and I shared a laugh.
"Any other questions?"
I shook my head.
"See you soon, then," mom said, giving me a hug.
"See you soon," I echoed.
Mom then got back in the car and said something to ma. Ma ignored her, eyes still closed. Mom started the car and I watched them drive away.
I made it back in five hours; I wasn't that far away from home. Mom was very proud of me while ma grudgingly congratulated me.
…
"Your moms are beyond drastic measures," Aunt Lily comments. "I think I might have to change my bet in Cynthia Rose's pool."
I look at her questioningly.
"I had after we qualify for nationals," she replies. "If Chloe doesn't make a move first."
I groan. Another worry I'd let myself forget.
"You're just going to have to try harder," Aunt Lily says.
"Locking them in a closet should have worked," I retort.
"You're thinking too small, too conventional," Aunt Lily replies walking back to the stack of chairs to grab her books. "Try thinking out of the box."
"Yeah, yeah, like I haven't heard that before," I grumble.
"Well, you obviously forgot, since you're not," Aunt Lily tells me. "Brainstorm a little longer next time. You know where to find me if you need any more help."
I watch her leave the rehearsal space before slumping to the floor. She's right, of course. I need to think of something... severely radical. My moms' marriage isn't like other people's and I need to react accordingly.
Chapter Nine: Part Three
This is the most furious Beca's ever seen Aubrey and considering how much they argue, that's saying a lot. They've both given up shouting for help, since it's obvious that it's not coming. Beca is currently leaning against a wall, watching Aubrey pace angrily back and forth, which is a bit difficult in the small space.
And then without warning, Aubrey spins to face Beca, eyes blazing. "Did you do this?"
"Did I lock us in a maintenance closet?" Beca repeats, rolling her eyes. "Why would I do that?"
"As payback for yesterday," Aubrey replies.
"Then why would I lock myself in here as well?" Beca counters.
"To throw me off or to make me feel guilty, or... I don't know," she says, throwing her hands up.
"Since I really don't want to be around you right now, that seems dumb."
Aubrey looks down as her shoulders slump. Beca knows she feels bad, but Beca's still hurt. When they'd been talking about the rules, Aubrey had been so sure that Beca would be the one to break them first. The fact that it was Aubrey would have been amusing, if she hadn't brought up Beca's dad. They haven't told each other everything yet, but they both know their dads are a sensitive subject.
"Beca," Aubrey says quietly, suddenly close. "I know I messed up badly. And an apology isn't enough for you to forgive me. Just... just promise me that you'll give me another chance. Please let me make it up to you."
The need to say whatever it takes to wipe the heartbreaking, pleading look off Aubrey's face is strong, making Beca realize how deep her feelings for Aubrey are becoming. It's a bit overwhelming. But all Aubrey is asking for is time, which Beca is willing to give. Plus, it'll give her time to sort through her feelings a bit more. So she nods. "We're not over, if that's what you're asking."
Aubrey's smile is bright and happy and quickly becoming Beca's favorite thing.
"Thank you," she says. Her arm raises, but Aubrey stops herself before she can caress Beca's cheek. Beca wants to lean into it, but holds back, worried it'll seem like forgiveness.
Aubrey nods at this as her smile wavers slightly and drops her arm. "All right. Well, now that that's settled, let's get out of here."
"How?" Beca asks. "My phone doesn't get a signal in here and I don't know how to pick a lock. I should have got Lily to teach me."
Aubrey shakes her head and steps away. She then turns towards the door and walks closer, examining it. After a moment, she spins around and begins searching the closet for something. After a moment, she stalks over to the corner on Beca's left and opens a red, metal tool box. Beca watches her dig around before pulling out a hammer and a flat head screw driver. Holding each in a hand, she walks back to the door and crouches down. Beca watches in awe as Aubrey positions the screwdriver on the bottom hinge and begins hitting it with the hammer.
It takes a few hits, each one echoing loudly in the small space, but soon Beca sees a large pin fall to the ground with a clank. Aubrey stands and repeats the process with the middle hinge. The clank of the pin is louder this time, having fallen from a larger height. The door seems loose at this point and Beca lets out a relieved sigh as Aubrey beckons her closer.
"I need you to hold the door, so it doesn't fall on me," Aubrey explains.
Beca nods and leans against it. Aubrey stretches and attacks the last hinge. Beca side steps closer to the door knob, not wanting to be hit by the falling pin. It clanks loudly on the concrete floor. Aubrey turns to Beca with satisfied grin and then sets the hammer and screw driver on the ground.
Beca takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself down, because satisfied, problem solving Aubrey is incredibly attractive—almost as hot as pissed off Aubrey—and it's taking every bit of restraint Beca has to not slam her against the door and forgive her.
Following Aubrey's directions, they pull the door out of the frame and then lean it against the wall.
"Call me later?" Aubrey asks.
Beca nods.
Aubrey exits first, stomping out of the closet, looking pissed as hell. Beca follows a bit slower, the urge to forgive Aubrey even stronger. Witnessing innovative Aubrey, followed by pissed off Aubrey is almost too much for her libido. She decides she needs a cold shower and some time to think.
…
Turns out that the biggest obstacle to resolving things with Aubrey is trying to find the time and space to talk in private.
After two days, Aubrey goes to the music department and reserves a practice room for two hours—the max amount of time allowed—so they have a place to talk that they won't be bothered. The text Beca receives tells her they have the room from four to six p.m.
Aubrey is already there when Beca arrives. Her phone beeps, telling her to go to practice room nine. Beca knocks loudly on the door and is quietly yanked inside.
It's not a particularly big space, it can't be more than five feet by five feet. It's obvious that Aubrey has done some rearranging. There are two chairs facing each other and the three music stands are as compact as possible in the corner.
"Hi," Aubrey says once Beca's done looking around the small space.
"Hey."
It's been a while since they've had tension between them. And after the weeks of dating, the tension is even more uncomfortable.
"I really am sorry," Aubrey starts. "I just... the argument got away from me."
Beca can understand that. "Apology accepted," she replies. She knows she could make Aubrey really work for her forgiveness, especially after being told she'd be the one to screw up first, but she just can't. She knows how stressed out Aubrey is; and though she hopes she helps her relax sometimes, the fact that they are keeping their relationship a secret, also means she has to add to it. And though she truly enjoys fighting with Aubrey, she doesn't like stressing her out more.
Aubrey grins in relief.
"But we do need to talk about it?" Beca asks.
"Talk about what?"
"Whatever it was that was bothering you," Beca clarifies.
"I told you, the argument just got away from me," Aubrey replies.
"Aubrey, you can tell me."
"I promise to be more conscientious," Aubrey continues as if Beca hadn't spoken. "Keeping this a secret is tougher than I was expecting."
"For me too," Beca tells her.
"And I just..." She sighs. "Maybe I over reacted."
"What happened?"
"I got scared, paranoid, I don't know," Aubrey tries. "Chloe congratulated me on not fighting with you during rehearsal the other day."
"Oh."
"And I got scared, obviously," Aubrey finishes.
"You're worried that she knows?" Beca asks.
Aubrey nods. "Or at least suspects."
"Would that be so bad?" Beca questions. "I mean, it's Chloe."
"I'm not the only one who was worried about her finding out," Aubrey points out.
"Yeah, but..."
"The reasons for not telling her are the same," Aubrey adds.
"I know. I just worry about how hurt she's going to be that we didn't tell her sooner," Beca replies. "Especially at you."
"I know. But it really hasn't been that long," Aubrey says. "It's only been a couple weeks since we started... this."
"Two weeks is hardly anything," Beca agrees. "But maybe Chloe is the exception?"
"Not yet," Aubrey says. "We'll definitely tell her first. But it's still a little too soon."
"If you're sure..."
"I am," Aubrey nods. "Eventually. Maybe. Just not yet."
"So are we going to talk about—"
"It really did just slip out," Aubrey interjects.
"I know," Beca says. "I just wanted to say that I don't think you have to worry. I doubt anyone realizes anything's going on between us."
"Oh. I guess that's a relief."
"Maybe next time just give me a heads up," Beca requests. "A text or something."
"I can do that."
"So now that we've figured that out, what can we do for the remaining ninety minutes?" Beca asks.
"We are not making out in a practice room," Aubrey tells her.
"Why not?" Beca questions, stepping closer to Aubrey. "It's a perfect opportunity. We should take full advantage of it."
"Because there are people who actually need this space to practice," Aubrey replies.
"And they can use one of the other four rooms that were open when I walked by," Beca says. "And we definitely need more practice too." She has Aubrey pressed against the far wall, though they're not touching. It's up to Aubrey to pull Beca towards her. It's obvious that Aubrey wants to, but is fighting the urge. Beca starts counting in her head, trying to guess how long it'll be before Aubrey gives in.
Beca makes it to one hundred and thirty-seven—her guess had been two hundred—before Aubrey's grabbing her and pulling her in for a kiss.
…
For once, Beca is actually studying in the quad. She has a test on Middlemarch in two days and her English professor dad would not be pleased with her failing it.
Lily's arrival is quiet except for the clanking from the bag she's carrying. Lily takes the book from Beca's hands, marks her place and closes it. Knowing she has Beca's attention, she pulls a pad lock out of the bag with her left hand and with her right, holds up a hair pin and an unbent paperclip . Beca watches her pick open the lock.
Lily says something, pointing to the bag and Beca assumes it's to pick out another pad lock. Beca does so and is handed a hair pin and bent paperclip of her own. Beca listens closely as Lily explains how to pick the lock. Lily has to repeat herself several times and after each failure, Beca begins to question if it's something she can actually hear. And then after her tenth attempt, there's a click and the lock pops open. Lily's "not bad" is almost kind of audible.
"Thanks," Beca says.
Lily hands her another lock and this time it only takes four attempts. The next one she is handed actually opens on the first try, as does the next one. She's able to unlock the remaining ten locks with almost no problems.
Lily returns the locks to the bag and sets it next to Beca. "For you to keep practicing," she says. She then hands Beca Middlemarch back. And then from seemingly out of nowhere she pulls out an Advanced Chemistry textbook and begins studying.
Beca glances between Lily and the bag of locks a couple times. She feels like she should say something, but nothing comes to mind. "Thanks," she says to Lily and then returns to her book.
