The next week Beca is back to her distant self again. You barely see her and when you do, she's got her headphones on and wordlessly screaming at you not to talk to her. You're pretty sure you would've said something about it first thing on Monday afternoon, had you not spotted her holding folders and college books in her arms and pressed to her chest the minute she entered your joined room, had she not stayed every night that week in the room, not necessarily sleeping, but with her laptop on her lap placed on the floor. It wasn't exactly perfect, but you slept better at night knowing Beca was in the room, and you awoke with a smile each morning when you saw her drooling and snoring.
You gave Beca the space she requested. You were busy yourself anyway. In between your normal classes and the ever building tension filled Bellas' practices, you found yourself going to the art section more than you intended. You were glad to find that the building doesn't close until around midnight, because after a full day of classes and settling arguments with the Bellas, you were more than happy to still have plenty of time to spend in the art section of college. There weren't any classes that late, but there were other students that you could talk to and Hannah in particular was one of the few people who would always be around after dinner time.
Hannah was nice to have around. She could hold a conversation when she felt you were up for it, but kept quiet when your responses lingered. You can appreciate that. During the course of the week, you started bringing dinner for two into the room and she brought wine without discussing it. She talked about her parents at times and you shared some of it right back, although it wasn't nearly as interesting as her stories. Instead, you've tried to keep the conversation light; discussing college and hobbies, like the Bellas. And Hannah didn't stray outside those lines, which you appreciate.
On Friday evening, you enter the building for the fifth time that week, this time holding two pizza boxes and a deck of cards, hoping to either find inspiration in them for your new assignment or just as a distraction when you and Hannah get bored.
To your surprise, Hannah is not the only one in the class. There's a guy in the back keeping to himself and Paul, the middle-aged professor, is talking to your auburn haired friend about her newest painting.
"Hi, Paul!" You exclaim happily as you enter the room. "Care to join us?"
He stays and it's nice to hear him talk about his role models and the different influences while the three of you eat dinner. You had asked the shy guy in the back of the room if he wanted some, but he just looked at you, then stuttered a quick declination of your offer and skipped out of the room.
You play some poker after dinner, but your head isn't really in the game. You keep thinking about Beca. You're proud she actually went to the appointment with the Dean and that she's going to her classes, finally. You just figured you'd see her a bit more. And even though she's around more than she used to, even if it doesn't feel like it, you foolishly have to admit you miss her.
You miss her as a friend. You haven't really talked in days and she hasn't accepted your offers to get coffee, which you have asked her almost every morning this week. You miss her sighs and roll of the eyes whenever you flirt with her. You miss listening to her music, or just her in general. You miss those things the most, more than that part of the deal that you made. But you're pretty sure you can't tell Beca those things, since she was clear about what kind of thing this is between the two of you.
(You are still not sure how to define it, though.)
You should however be allowed to tell her you miss her in a physical way, although that's not really something you should use words for. When you got home around midnight on Wednesday and saw her sitting at the small desk, head bent over some books and her blue headphones on, preventing her from hearing your feet approaching, you decided to inform her without words. You couldn't deal with Beca ignoring you anymore, so you made your way over, careful not to let your hair touch her when you moved your head down. You wanted your mouth to be the first thing she feels and notices about your presence.
And it was.
It felt great to finally feel Beca again. The soft patch of her earlobe between your teeth, her beating skin underneath your lips, more than anything you've missed the way her body tenses completely at your first touch, but totally relaxes after that. The sigh that always comes from deep down Beca's throat.
You lifted her jaw softly to reach the bottom of her neck better, but Beca moved away from you then. "I'm on my period." She explained while turning in the chair to face you, but you didn't even care. You just wanted to be close to her, so you awkwardly positioned yourself on the crappy chair on top of Beca and you kissed her lips.
She had let you for a little while. Lips moving against each other, occasionally allowing you to suck on her bottom lip before quickly going back to kiss her, not wanting her to have the time to stop this.
But it was useless, because Beca pulled away as soon as you tried to deepen the kiss. It was worth it, though, to be pushed away and ignored again shortly after, for a kiss like that.
"Chlo?"
Hannah's hands are shaking you lightly and it's disappointing to say the least, right after the remembrance of Beca's hands on you, you're not sure anyone's would be anything but disappointing after that.
"If you're gonna be a million miles away, we're gonna see that as folding." Paul joked and you have to look down at the cards in your hand to remind yourself you were in the middle of a poker game and not in your room with Beca's body underneath you on some cheap chair.
You play a few more rounds before heading out and leaving Paul and Hannah to the game themselves. You make your way across campus, sure of where you're going, not sure of what to do when you get there. There's many things that are plausible to happen when you get to the room where Beca is.
You could start rambling about how you don't believe this is just a physical thing. Not that you like her, oh no. You definitely don't like Beca Mitchell. She interests you. Keeps your mind occupied at almost every hour of the day. You wonder what she's doing, what class she has while you're at English Lit, what she's having for dinner when you're not in the room, what songs she's mixing right before you fall asleep. You think of her a lot, sure. But you don't like her. You just want to be her friend; want to know what she's doing and thinking during her days and what makes a day good or bad for her.
It's kind of like you're friend with benefits, but without the friendship part.
(This option is probably the most likely one, because, see, you're already rambling.)
What's also a possible scenario is that you flirt with Beca until she gives in and lets you touch her for a little bit. Maybe she'll let you kiss her for a few minutes like last Wednesday, even though you know she'll cut you off at some point.
Or maybe you won't say anything as you walk through the door, finding Beca with her headphones on once again and unbothered by your presence, also once again. It hurts, but you don't let it show. Somehow, it matters what Beca thinks of you and you don't want her to think you're weak. If she can play the cool card, then so can you.
Turns out you can't, even though you've only been in this room for around twenty minutes. You're up on your feet before you can assess whether or not this is a good plan. Beca's eyes fly open and her body tenses completely when you take a seat on her bed and rest your hand on her arm. You really should have thought this through some more, because you don't even know what to say.
So you smile at her grandly and wait until she loses her headphones with sighs of annoyance. You watch how smoothly they fall from her head to around her neck and then you watch her lips as she snaps at you. "I thought we could have some girl talk." You reply with a smile that you know will cause Beca to roll her eyes.
She does.
"Why? Is there a cute boy in your art class that you've been passing notes with?"
"What?"
"What?"
You laugh. "No." That wasn't the kind of girl talk you meant. "I just thought we could hang out. Maybe get something to drink."
"I can't, I'm busy." She answers cold as her eyes go back to the screen on her lap.
"Really?" You try to sound tempting, but when Beca looks up from her screen and just glares at you, you're not sure it worked. You shrug and head to your own bed, placed against the wall and not looking at Beca anymore.
"What?" She asks annoyed, but your smile only grows wider when you see her putting her laptop next to her and trying to make eye contact with you.
"Nothing. It's just funny." You shrug nonchalant.
"What is?"
"The fact that you're supposedly a cool DJ and yet you're staying in on a Friday night." You let your eyes find hers then, only to see she's glaring at you again, yet there's not a hint of annoyance or anger to find. She scoffs at you and you could not be any more amused.
"Well, I don't know any cool DJs who go to Starbucks on a Friday."
"I never said Starbucks, Becs."
She scans your face, trying to figure out what you're saying. You see the shift in her eyes the moment she figures it out. "Kevin said I could only get in on Saturdays." She speaks slowly and doubtful.
"As a DJ, sure." You smirk devilish. You know Beca told Kevin she was going to focus more on school and he immediately banned her from the club on schooldays and only lets her DJ on Saturdays. You wonder if he was so strict, because he wants the best for Beca, or because he knows Beca couldn't possibly propose this deal on her own and at least this way she could roll her eyes and act like this isn't exactly what she thinks needs to happen, too.
Perhaps it's both.
"Beale, what are you saying?"
"Not sure." You say playfully. "But I feel like going out."
Somehow, you ended up walking to a club with Beca. You're not entirely sure how you pulled that off, but you don't care. Passing by the line at the entrance to follow Beca into the staff entry creates a fire in your chest and you can't stop smiling from excitement. Every person that passes the two of you greets Beca enthusiastic and you're not surprised she barely notices their existence.
(It sure is a relief to know she doesn't just do that to you. )
You ignore Beca's attitude and greet every person with even more joy in your voice than usual. Some shake your hand and others try to engage in a conversation, but your grumpy friend doesn't wait up for you, so you're forced into short exchange of words.
You hop gracefully and happily after Beca and find her talking to a man in his early thirties. He looks professional, but his scruffy beard and band shirt that's hidden perfectly underneath his jacket give him away. You knew this was Kevin before you even heard him talk.
"-and if I hear you're failing even one class, you're in trouble."
"Whatever, dad!" Beca scoffs, but you hear the glee in her voice nonetheless.
"You must be Kevin!" You exclaim as you're within their reach. He shakes your hand and you're glad to see him return your smile.
"And you must be the girl who's responsible for bringing this little rat back into my club." Kevin pulls Beca close and they fake wrestle for a bit, until your roommate twists his arm and he taps off.
"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I promise, I'll keep her on the dancefloor." The wink directed at Beca comes almost as natural as your smirk. You keep your eyes on her until you see her cheeks fluster which is when you decide to let her breathe.
"Well, it was nice to meet you." Kevin tells you. "Drinks are on the house for you. Beca, I know how much you make, you can just pay for them."
Beca scoffs shockingly, trying to come up with some sort of retort, but Kevin is gone before she could find something. "Disadvantage of him being my boss." Beca explains as she heads through a door and the music starts becoming hearable. It's not until she opens another door that the beats vibrate through your body and take over. The dancefloor is bigger than you thought it would be, groups of people filling the space. You search for the DJ booth and find it up high. There's a young man standing there right now, but it's so easy to imagine Beca in there, with her headphones on and doing what she does best.
"Keep up, Beale." Beca yells at you and takes your hand roughly in hers. You follow her through the crowd and purposely press your body against her whenever you can. Beca looks back with a small grin, and to you that's an invitation to place your other hand on her hip, keeping her even closer to you than before.
"Am I keeping up alright?" You whisper in her ear and you feel her shiver underneath your touch. You wish the dancefloor was bigger, because you've already reached the bar before Beca could reply, even though you doubt she would.
You take a seat next to your friend and watch as she engages in a conversation with the bartender. He's older than Beca, maybe around your age, eyes as green as you've never seen, blond hair big and up and quite frankly it looks perfect. They both turn to you, silently asking what you want to drink, and you just say you'll have the same as Beca, even though you didn't even hear what she ordered.
You're not surprised when the gentleman comes back with two beers.
You keep quiet for a while and listen to the music, taking in the setting of the place. The beats might be going fast, but it's relaxing in a way, to listen to this with Beca besides you with a beer in hand. She seems to enjoy herself as well. Her head is slightly moving along to the music and she looks calm. Content.
There's two new beers ready by the time you've both finished yours and Beca makes eye contact with you. It takes a few seconds, but eventually her lips start to curl and she's smiling at you.
"So, what do you want to do? We could play Never Have I Ever?" You tease, leaning closely towards your friend, letting your chest make contact with her on purpose, obviously.
Beca rolls her eyes before glaring at you. "We are not playing that."
"Twenty Questions?" You ask with a grin.
"No, those are all just new games to get me to talk." Beca says chuckling and you can't help but laugh. It's not like she's wrong about your intentions.
"Fine, what do you want to do if you don't want to talk?" You whisper in her ear, your lips brushing over her skin, before returning to your drink and watching Beca lick her lips as her eyes scan over your body.
"We could dance?"
You follow Beca into the crowd. This time you're the one who reaches out for her hand to hold, because it's crowded and you don't want to lose her and it's totally a great excuse to hold her hand.
When Beca stops, you have to look around to wonder why she choose this place. As if she can tell what you were thinking, she explains the place you're standing right now is the place where the music gets heard best, because of the audio equipment that's installed everywhere in the club. You don't ask any questions, because you don't want Beca to lose her voice due to all the screaming, trying to make herself clear while there's music blasting.
Instead, you start dancing. Your hips always seem to lead what you're doing, and you're happy to let them. Your arms follow, roaming through the air that's mentally claimed as yours and your fingers run through your hair every now and then, feeling more free somehow.
Your movements change every few seconds, yet your eyes stay glued to Beca. The girl is moving smoothly and steady. Her dancing is actually quite good, if you ignore the fact that she's not moving her hips at all and her feet are only limiting themselves to the invisible circle around her. Moving forward, back, sideways. Never more than one step.
But it's fascinating. Her shoulders and arms are fascinating you, the way they move in front of her torso, the way they look like music's flowing through them. And her hands are an art in their own. They're sliding through the space between the two of you, moving slowly to the beat, as if she's setting a pace. When the beats go faster, her fingers start a life on their own, moving apart from one another, spread and trembling, they somehow still follow the music.
Dancing with Beca is fun. She makes funny faces when she lip syncs to the songs and you're pretty sure you're getting a six-pack from all the laughing. You, in return, make her laugh by reenacting her funny hand dance moves. She punches your shoulder lightly, but this act caused her to be a lot closer to you now, so you don't complain. You're not sure if Beca hasn't noticed how close you now are, or if she just doesn't care. Either way, you're not complaining.
Slowly, with every movement, you close the distance little by little. You're starting to think Beca just hasn't noticed yet, but then her hand reaches out, touching the hem of your shirt and the skin that's exposed below it. Your breath gets caught in your throat, but you quickly swallow, afraid that if Beca notices, she'll back away.
She doesn't. She rests her hand on your hip and before you can think things through, you wrap your arms around her neck.
You stay like that for a while, eyes locked on each other as your feet both continue to somewhat move. The music is just as loud, yet somehow you can barely hear it. The beating of your own heart drowns everything else out and when Beca puts her other hand on you as well, you can't possibly hold yourself back anymore.
You taste the beer she had earlier on her lips and it sends waves of electricity through your body. Her hands move up on your sides and she's kissing you back just as passionately as you.
You don't know how many minutes passed with your lips locked on hers, your tongue in her mouth, your hands keeping her close, but you pull away eventually. Beca seems annoyed that you broke up the kiss, the sight of her swollen lips, however, tells you it was time. Her eyes are dark and she's staring at you. You wonder for a split second if she's either going to yell at you and walk out, or get your lips back on hers.
She does neither of those, but she grabs you by the wrist and you follow her without questions asked. You know where you're going.
Beca moves so fast, you're barely able to process everything she does. Dragging you into the bathroom, locking the door behind you, connecting your lips again after what feels like a much longer time than it probably has been.
/
Monday is as awful as you expected. You don't even remember the lecture that stupid Dean of Students gave you about missing class and what not. She has you retaking all the tests you missed in two weeks and she started scolding at you as soon as she saw the slightest of eye rolls about how important this is, or something. You barely listened.
You took the schedule she made for you and picked up your books from some woman at the front desk, then you went to your classes. All boring eight of them. You were bored through every single one of them, but you guess it wasn't as awful as you expected the classes to be. Most people left you be, probably because of the look on your face. The classes were stupid, but you understood most of it. Overall, it wasn't the worst. But the entire thing, including now only getting to DJ on Saturday and taking a few weeks off work in the record store, you're cranky and annoyed to say the least.
Your bad mood only increases during the course of the week. Maybe it has less to do with classes and more with the fact that you've barely been able to sleep at night, still used to the schedule where you're wide awake during those hours, but it's easier to blame the stupid college duties.
By the time Thursday rolls around, you're bored out of your mind because of the dull schedule. Every day is just the same, you don't understand how people do this. Waking up early, going to classes, going home, doing the stupid assignments and trying to fall asleep before three a.m.. You don't think you'll ever get used to that, nor do you want to get used to it.
You blame the low number of hours you slept that night when you're picking a fight with a guy that runs into you on Friday morning. He was all apologies and picking up your books, so you walked away eventually when you were sure that there wasn't a chance in hell he was going to fight you.
Your last class ends quite early that day, so you head to the record store to check up on Luke. He's in the middle of his show when you enter the building, but he notices you and you stock some CDs while you wait for him to come out of his booth.
"Be-caw!"
Great. You throw your head back and wonder if it's too late to run out the door. When you open your eyes dramatically, you're not surprised to find Jesse standing awfully close to you.
"What?!" You snap when he just keeps looking at you with a huge smile on his face.
"You're not supposed to be in here, Miss Alternative."
"Miss Alternative?"
He just glares at you in response and you have to look down to see what he's talking about. You're wearing all black and your leather jacket on top. Of course he's a dick like that. You roll your eyes and head to the other section to check out the new releases.
"Becky!" You're glad to hear Luke's voice, because you don't think Jesse would've let you just be. "I thought I told you you're not welcome here anymore." He says, smile big and bright, totally contradicting his words. He is so happy to see you.
"Relax, I went to all my classes." You say with your hands in front of your chest to show your surrender. "I come in peace. Wanted to check how awful you guys are doing without me." You speak playfully.
"Sappy here is not that bad,-"
"It's Jesse." The young guy speaks annoyed as if he's been hearing that nickname all week.
"-but it's safe to say the store misses you."
"You know I can handle one or two days a week, just to-"
He cuts you off angrily and you can't say you didn't expect him to. He heads back into the booth and you follow him. He asks about classes and you answer, as brief as you can. You stay there in that radio booth for a while, listening to Luke's show and the music he plays, until Jesse comes in telling Luke he has someone on line one, and you head back into the store to leave him to it.
"Sappy, huh?" You ask Jesse when you grab a box to unpack and stock. He just shrugs and smiles at you.
"Oh, I totally forgot! How'd your gig go?" He asks with more enthusiasm than you've probably ever felt in your life.
"Oh, yeah, it was great." You reply, because it was. It was great. What more could you say about it?
"Yeah? What did your uh,-" He pauses, obviously looking for words, but with a huge grin that you can practically guess what he's going to say. "-let's go with roommate, think of it?"
"Shut up." You tell him, your eyes focused on him as a warning, but his grin stays all the same and he doesn't seem intimidated by you. "Besides, she wasn't there."
"No? Because you two seemed pretty close."
"Okay." You say annoyed, dropping the remaining CDs back into the box and making your way towards the door. "That's it."
"Like holding hands, fingers entwined, kind of close." Jesse chuckles from behind you.
"Shut it!" You tell him before slamming the door closed. God, he's such a weirdo. Yes, you were holding hands, but he doesn't have to make it sound like there's more to it. Because there's absolutely not.
You cross campus and spot the Starbucks on your right. You stop in your tracks, wondering if you should go in. You blame stupid Sappy for implanting Chloe in your mind, because all you can think of is her. If she's inside the coffee shop with her best friend. And if she isn't, if you should get her something to drink for when she gets back home later. You know she loves coffee, and she's had quite a busy week as well. You've barely seen her, now that you think of it. Most mornings, she was up before you were and she hasn't bothered you a lot when she got home and found you studying.
Studying. Mostly you just stared at your books and thought about what mixes you could be working on instead of learning about physics.
A group of girls exit the shop and you get snapped out of your thoughts. You decide to keep moving. Getting coffee is not part of the deal. It would just be another thing Sappy can hold over your head and bother you with.
You continue your way to your dorm when you spot a familiar red head walking down the street, heading straight towards you. You freeze instantly, trying to figure out what the best escape route out of this situation is, but she crosses the street before you can make a move. She's holding two pizza boxes in her arms as she happily skips the streets with that always smiling mouth of hers. God, she's so annoying. How can someone be happy as a default like that?
You watch as she heads to the building you recognize all too well, and you don't wait to see her actually enter, because you don't think it would benefit your already bad mood.
Of course that's where Chloe spends her Friday nights. In a fucking art room with Hannah eating pizza's. Or with whomever she's bought that second box for. You don't understand how she can be so oblivious. Your roommate is way too nice, and it will lead to people taking advantage of her.
(In whatever way that might be, you don't want to think about.)
You're busy writing an essay, or more so staring at your laptop trying to get it to write itself, when your roommate returns from her dinner date. You check the time on your laptop and you're quite surprised it isn't past midnight yet.
She doesn't try to engage in a stupid conversation with you, to your surprise. She's just sitting on her bed, and you suddenly have an even harder time focusing on this stupid essay. You don't know what causes it, but Chloe makes you nervous. Whether it's the fact that she's unusually quiet, or if it's just her presence that's making you break out in sweat.
You close your eyes, trying to ignore she's even in the room as music flows through your headphones and you focus on the beats in the song instead of the ones in your chest.
A couple of songs in, you feel your bed shift and find Chloe sitting so close, you have to gulp and pretend to be annoyed to get rid of all this nervousness.
"I thought we could have some girl talk."
If there's one thing you don't do, it's girl talk. What even is that? It makes you think of a teenage girl who tells her friends all about her crush on this guy she's never even talked to. You tell yourself that's why your mind picked those words to leave your mouth, and definitely not because you are still thinking about those two pizza boxes in her hands.
You're glad Chloe doesn't see through you. Instead, she's basically telling you to go to your club tonight. Your club! Kevin said you were only allowed in on Saturdays, but Chloe's right, he just means as a DJ. You can totally check out how busy it is and who's working tonight and get some drinks with your roommate, if that's what it takes.
You quickly get dressed when Chloe tells you to, and you're out the door not even fifteen minutes later. You could call a cab, but your roommate looks content with walking.
"Did you have an art class today? Or, this week?" You ask when the silence gets unbearable. You know you should've brought your earplugs along.
"No, no classes, but I still went there a lot this week, just to work on my stuff." She explains with a smile. "Oh, and Paul was there today, the professor. So I was able to get some feedback on my painting."
"Great." You say, trying to sound as sincere as possible, but somehow you always sound disinterested, even when you're not.
She's quiet again after that, probably under the impression that you're not interested in hearing more, so you act before you can think. "So, uh, the painting,- what is it about or, whatever?" You stumble, trying to forget what an idiot you were earlier for thinking she had a date with Hannah when she was just having dinner with her professor.
"It's kind of hard to explain." Chloe decides after staring at you for a few seconds. "You should come over sometimes and take a look."
You roll your eyes, because why does she have to make everything so hard? "Or you could just tell me what it is."
"Well, where's the fun in that?"
That goddamn wink will be the death of you some day. "Fine, whatever." You say after she's done chuckling.
"Stop it, don't be like that, Becs!"
But she's laughing and her eyes shine as bright as ever, so you don't think you'll ever stop.
You've been to this club many times. You probably couldn't count them if you tried. Every single one of those times was different, but being here with Chloe is a whole other experience. You should have known it would be from the moment you walked through the staff entry and heard her chatting with every person she saw. This was gonna be a weird night. You can only hope it'll turn out a good kind of weird.
You find your boss at the end of the hallway and you're kind of glad your roommate gets to meet Kevin, because he's just a great guy and you think she'll like him. Although she probably likes most people she meets.
You needed a drink long before Chloe started flirting with you on the way to the bar, but you definitely need one now. You don't like to admit it, even if it's just to yourself, but you've missed her touch. Not necessarily in a sexual way, just the simple way her hand rests in yours and how her thumb brushes over your skin.
But you can't have those thoughts, because that's not part of the deal, so you ask her to head down to the dancefloor to take your mind off things.
The quite opposite happens as soon as Chloe starts to dance and you can't see why you thought this would be a good idea. Your head gets cleared, that much is true. But the thoughts you wanted to leave, the thoughts about her touching your skin, only increase with every second you spend watching your roommate move.
You're lucky your body remembers to move, too, and you can only hope you're moving somewhat to the beat, because you can't really tell.
You find out that she'll laugh if you pull funny faces or do a weird dance move, so you keep those going and you've lost track of time and space by the time you finally reach out and touch her. Her skin feels soft underneath your fingertips and her lips are even softer against your own.
You can't even remember the last time you kissed her, not like this.
If you had to guess, you'd say it was before your mind ruined everything by overthinking. The first kisses you've ever shared with her were passionate and exciting, just like this one.
She's the one to pull away. You wish she hadn't, but you're glad now that she has, because you realize that the middle of the dancefloor of the club where you work might not be the best place to jump your roommate's bones.
You don't remember the staff bathroom being this far away, even though you're practically running across the floor.
God, you're an idiot.
But you're an idiot who gets to have sex with a gorgeous ginger, so you are like the luckiest idiot in the world.
The noise of the door locking is the most fulfilling sound your hands are able to make. Well, up until the moment your hands find Chloe Beale and then the most fulfilling sounds are produced by her mouth. You have her up against the tiled wall and placed on a sink in no time.
It's not as awkward as you thought it might be. You, a below average sized person, placed between the legs of someone who's already a bit taller and right now sitting on a bathroom sink, but you make it work, though. You're at eye level with her chest, so you don't really need your lips to be in contact with hers. She's already having trouble breathing as it is, with your mouth on her chest and her pants down her ankles.
She pulls your head up a few times, however, to kiss you and moan in your mouth. Her fingers move through you hair and dig in your skull to tell you she's close. She falls apart quickly, but you don't let her go until she's collapsing again, your name rolling off of her tongue as she does.
You help her off the sink and don't release her until she seems steady on her feet, which is when you go to wash your hands and throw some water on your face, needing to cool down in at least some way.
Chloe helps you dry your face and tells you she's looking forward to return the favor in a few days. You usually don't mind when it's your time of the month, but this time you really hate it. She kisses you before you can reply and you instantly forget what words you would even form. Or how to.
You don't believe you've ever been with someone who's such a good kisser. Her mouth seems innocent and professional at the same time. Teasing and playing you until you deepen the kiss, only to be defeated by her tongue seconds later. It annoys you, would it not be so damn good.
You head to the bar minutes later, eager to get some alcohol in your system and Chloe keeps up surprisingly well, although you can tell the drinks get to her a lot more than they get to you. Drunk Chloe Beale is not much different from sober Chloe; she's just everything multiplied. Ten times as happy, ten times the laughs, ten times the flirting. The last one is a problem, but she's adorable and hilarious, so you can easily ignore the innuendos.
It must be after three a.m. when you and your roommate leave the club. She's hanging over your body and it takes everything in you to keep her up on her feet. You're too small to carry her home, you know that much. She doesn't seem wasted, though. Her coordination is just a little fucked and her feet occasionally drag over the streets, but besides that, she seems fine. Intoxicated, yes. Drunk, probably not.
"Becs, I had such a great time tonight." She tells you, exaggerating almost every word of the sentence.
"Me too, Beale." You tell her honestly, not caring if she remembers your words in the morning or not.
"I have more fun with you than with anyone!"
The words should probably remind you of the sex in that cold bathroom, but it doesn't. It brings you back to that dancefloor with her arms wrapped around your neck and the two of you slow dancing to whatever house song was on. "Yeah." You realize. "I do, too."
"Friends?" She asks, her hand reached out in a formal way, her smirk big enough to know she's not in a state to actually be serious.
You don't really like the word 'friend'. You've never had a lot, especially not a lot of girls. You mostly get along better with guys, but even those you don't really call your friends. I mean, now that you're thinking about it, it's kind of stupid. What else would you call Kevin? And Luke? You don't think anyone else could fit the list, but you also don't think Chloe could not be on that list. You're pretty sure it's all the alcohol and sex and flirting, because if you were rational right now, you'd be able to see you could never be her friend and that friendship wasn't part of the deal. But with Chloe's bright, blue eyes on you, her smile even prettier in the night sky, you just can't help yourself.
"Friends." You lie.
Or maybe you're telling the truth for once.