Reviews make me happy. God I wish I had actual writing talent when I have to write chapters like these
She takes you out to a club where she worked at once, telling you that it's about time you saw how the rest of the peasant world have fun. She also coyly recounts a vague story of a frisky redhead and blonde she saw one night. You laugh with her and agree to it, realizing you'll gladly go anywhere with her. You're surprised because in your 21 years of existence, nobody's ever not tried to impress you to get your attention, yet somehow, this girl just waltzed into your life captures it so effortlessly.
Your days practically revolve around her now, after Paris. You remember everything about her smile, her laugh, her little quirks and everything she says without trying to. You actually have to hold back from contacting her sometimes so as not to seem like too much of a stalker, and every time your phone lights up with her name on the screen, you grin like a little kid on Christmas eve. She's your girlfriend now. The thought makes you so giddy it's not even funny. You've never had a proper girlfriend before, and it makes everything feel so different yet at the same time...not. People still want your attention, still worship the ground you walk on, heads still turn when you walk past, but now you don't even want to look at anybody else. You just want to see her smile, make her laugh and shower her with little gifts that remind you of her.
Your father would sometimes catch you smiling to yourself like an idiot and although he hasn't said anything yet besides the occasional cocked eyebrow and knowing smirk, you highly suspect that he will, soon. Good, you can't wait to tell him about Beca. You can't wait to tell everybody about Beca.
The first thing she does once you step foot inside the club, which isn't too bad, is down several shots of vodka and drags you to the dark and crowded dance floor, kissing you hard once there, pulling you closer.
You've been official for a couple of weeks, but she knows exactly what your weaknesses are, just how much to get you to grip her hips tighter and kiss her back with fervor, making you forget the mass of bodies surrounding the both of you. When you pull back, there's a mischievous glint in her eyes as she throws her head back and laughs half drunkenly at something, which turns into a soft sigh when your lips kiss down her jaw to her throat, her hands sliding up behind your neck and casually playing with the hairs there. She drives you absolutely crazy. All the time.
You've always enjoyed sex, but with her, it's amazing. You have to marvel at just how well you fit each other, moving together like you've been lovers for years, like you know all her secrets and she knows yours. You make out and grope at each other like a couple of horny teenagers on Prom night, and seriously, you can't stop kissing her. Her lips are more addictive than any drug, any kind of alcohol, and you can't get enough. When you do get back to 'dancing', slightly dizzy and out of breath, you're not paying attention to the music, and neither is she, so you're both moving slightly out of sync with the beat. It's beautiful, seeing her let go completely, and trusting you enough to be there when she does. A few people must be seeing the same thing you are because they begin to dance closer to her, up against her even. You feel a twinge of what people call jealousy for the first time, and your arms slide around her waist possessively leaning down to kiss her neck, making sure to let them know. She is yours and yours alone.
When you suck at that extra sensitive spot just below her ear, she moans your name (which happens to be the sexiest sound ever) and pushes you back against the nearest wall. You don't know what's gotten into her, but you're not about to question a good thing.
Like most nights, it ends with you two stumbling through the door, giggling madly, hastily removing your clothes and getting lost in each other.
When you wake, the other side of the bed is cold. All the drowsiness is gone in an instant, replaced by a sense of panic. You find her in the kitchen soon after, burning some bacon, and the relief is overwhelming. She hasn't left. She hasn't left you.
You notice she's wearing one of your T-shirts and looking so cute in it that you just have to lean forward and give her a kiss that's too short for your liking. She says something about morning breath and not distracting her while she makes breakfast. You almost snort because the food is so obviously burnt, and you have your own private chef on call 24/7, but she's probably right about morning breath so you just pout (adorably, you might add) and leave her to it.
Half an hour later and you finally have some food to eat after Beca has gotten rid of any and all evidence that she's horrible at cooking, snuck out to a nearby cafe and bought a greasy breakfast for the both of you.
"So, I have some news," she begins, and she looks like she's about to burst with glee.
"You're not about to tell me you're pregnant, are you?"
She rolls her eyes, but grins anyway. "Ha ha, but seriously. I had a meeting with this guy from a record label yesterday. The same label as David Guetta. They said they might be able to arrange a collaboration some time."
You're not too surprised. She's talented as hell, and you're involved in the music scene enough to know a star when you see one, but her excitement is incredibly infectious.
"You're like, the only person who knows, aside from Jesse. I couldn't wait to tell you," she says sheepishly and you know that if your grin gets any bigger, your face would break.
You reach across the table, grab her hand and entwine your fingers together, liking how they fit perfectly.
Days later, and you're sitting on your bed, reading French love poems and saving the words in your mind (because your girlfriend loves it when you whisper them into her ear when you're alone. No, seriously, she loves it) while Beca's mixing away on her laptop with those big headphones over her ears next to you.
Just when you're enjoying the domesticity of it all, she starts humming 'Titanium' by David Guetta. A couple of seconds into it and she starts singing softly. By now you're just watching her sway her head slightly to the song, fascinated. You've never heard her sing before, but now you know that she can sing, is actually really good at it. When she hits the chorus, you join in as if on instinct, but even you're surprised at how good you sound together. Beca snaps up from her computer screen and stares at you, but she doesn't stop singing, so neither do you. The song fades out soon after and then you're just sitting there smiling at each other.
You've honestly never felt so connected to someone.
That night, you surprise yourselves. You don't end up having sex, instead you stay up and talk about anything and everything, with your arm safely around her waist.
The next time you see your father, you have every intention of telling him about Beca, your girlfriend, but he beats you to it.
"So tell me about this girl then. Does she make you happy?" He asks with a smile, leaning back onto his chair and putting both feet up on the wooden desk.
"Yes, dad," you answer him earnestly. "She makes me so happy."
"You know," he says, leaning forward. "When I met your mother, I fell head over heels in love. I was crazy about her."
You don't know why he's telling you this now. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that when us Beales fall, we fall hard. We give our whole heart away."
You look at him blankly. He's always been a source of wisdom, of knowledge, but he's never been...this vague to you.
"Be careful, okay?"
"It's too late for that, dad. I'm falling in love with her."