She's Not Afraid

A Pitch Perfect Story

Disclaimer: I do not own anything familiar.

Song Recommendation: She's Not Afraid by One Direction

Author's Note: A big thank you to the guest reviewer who suggested this song! I listened to it and read over the lyrics, and I think it is outstandingly perfect for Beca/Jesse. This one is AU, too. It takes place when Jesse and Beca are in their mid-twenties in LA. There are only going to be a few of the other Trebles/Bellas in this. I hope that you enjoy it. It is from Jesse's point of view, since I apparently didn't suck in the last one-shot. I hope that you like this one, too.

Sorry if the spacing is messed up or there are missing words or something, because every time I tried to submit this, my internet would crash. So, finally, I just copied and pasted it. So, sorry about any mistakes. Hopefully, this issue will work itself out...GRRR!

Jesse rolled over onto his stomach, his arm flying out and hitting nothing but the mattress. He groaned, lifting his head from the pillow to glance around the room. It was empty now, all signs of her gone. He frowned, realizing that she snuck out in the middle of the night, again. Jesse rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, frustrated. His mind traveled back to earlier in the evening. She had walked into the bar in a tight black dress that was so low cut that it barely covered her breasts, which highlighted several of her tattoos (but he knew that she had several more that were only visible when she was naked, and she looked outstanding naked). Her eyes were lined in dark eyeliner and mascara that made her blue eyes popped. Her hair was loose and curled. She looked beautiful. Her arm was hooked through the arm of her best friend, the redhead dressed in an equally skimpy dress that was light pink. Even though the redhead was beautiful, his eyes were drawn to her. They were always drawn to her. They made their way to the bar, ordering their drinks.

Jesse watched them from his seat at the table, barely listening to the stupid conversation that Benji, Donald, and Bumper were having. He knew it was about the women in the bar that night, or maybe it was about Benji's new girlfriend at his office? (What was her name again? Lilly or something like that?) His eyes were locked onto her back, and he couldn't seem to pull his focus away from her. He watched her flirt with the bartender; he watched the man slid her money back towards her, obviously offering to pay for her drink. She and the redhead turned away, glancing around the bar for a table to sit at. Damn Bumper and Donald for coming by that night and taking up the two free seats at his table. Their eyes locked as her gaze settled on him. She just barely inclined her head toward him, a small smirk slipping onto her face, in greeting to him. She kept her eyes locked with his as she leaned over to whisper something into the redhead's ear. She sipped her drink and laughed at something that the redhead said to her.

"Who's the broad that you are eye-sexing from across the bar?" Bumper said, slapping Jesse's upper arm with the back of his hand. Jesse glanced away, turning to look at his friends, who were staring at him pointedly. He gave them a tight smile. He didn't want to talk about her, because she liked to keep their…whatever it was that they were…a secret. He didn't know why, because it was him that she went home with every night.

"Just a girl from work," he said, shrugging his shoulder like it was no big deal.

"She's hot. I'd fuck her." Bumper told him, and Jesse narrowed his eyes at him, taking a sip of his bourbon.

"Shut up, asshole," he muttered, rolling his eyes. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at her as she finished off her drink and turned back to the bar to get another. This time, the guy standing beside her, trying to pick her up most likely, held a bill towards the bartender. She smiled appreciatively at him, sipping her drink carefully.

Jesse hoped that she didn't drink too much tonight. He knew that she liked to let go of everything in her mind. He knew that she liked to build up the walls around her heart, and she liked drinking and forgetting everything with him. He would probably even describe her as being addicted to the alcohol and the sex—of getting out of her head—of letting everything go. He hated when she drank too much, because he would wind up spending the night holding her hair back as she emptied her stomach over the porcelain throne rather wrapped up in her arms and worshiping her body. He certainly preferred the latter to the former.

The first time he saw her, he had walked into the studio to work with a new producer for his latest composition for an independent film that wound up getting a lot of buzz and a few nominations during the award season later. She was dressed in a pair of jeans, a black tank top, and her hair was pulled into a ponytail. Her face was focused on a computer screen, and she had huge headphones over her hears. She was humming along to whatever she was working on. Every moment since then—every time she walked into the room, it was almost as if the room lit up even brighter. She was so beautiful, so smart, and so passionate about music. He was completely smitten with this woman, and she seemed to think that he was worthy enough to go home with every night. Unfortunately, she didn't want people to know. Unfortunately, she built up her walls even higher every time he tried to tell her that he wanted more than just a hookup almost every night. The first time he said it to her, she practically pushed him out of her bed and out of her door. He kept telling her that they could be something special, that they could—should—be more. She just shut the door in his face, and he could see the flash of pain behind her eyes.

Jesse just didn't understand her. Looking at her now, she wasn't afraid of a lot of things. She wasn't afraid of all the attention she received; in fact, she loved it. She wore the tight clothing—like the dress she was wearing now. She wore the heavy eye makeup; she was covered in tattoos. She knew that she was beautiful, and she flaunted her body, her makeup, her tattoos—everything about herself, because she loved the attention that it drew her. She wasn't afraid of saying things that would insult others; she was very tongue in cheek, and she often had a few choice words for anyone who bothered her. On one of their first…dates?...hang out sessions?...whatever the word is to describe what they did, she pulled him from his bed in the middle of the night to go skinny dipping in a local pool near his gated community. She then proceeded to steal his clothing and then ran naked down the street with them, dropping an article here and there, making him follow her, gathering the clothes as he came upon them. She was insane, with a wild side a mile long. She didn't care about the consequences or the risks; she was free. The one thing that he didn't get about her was her fear of falling in love. Two hours later, after she had drank about four of the fruity cocktails her friends had hooked her on during college, she caught his eye, gave him a suggestive smile, and whispered to her friend before sauntering toward the door. Jesse excused himself, ignoring the rude comments from Bumper and the pleas that he stay with them from Donald and Benji, and followed her out of the door. He caught up with her, climbing into the cab with her, kissing her heatedly as they made their way back to his apartment.

As Jesse continued to stare at the ceiling, he thought about how he had convinced her to stay in one evening, rather than going out to party, to watch a movie with him. He had been shocked to learn that she thought movies were boring and that she never made it to the end. He convinced her to let him educate her in the power of the movies, especially their musical scores (since they were both music phenoms). This became a regular thing with them, every Tuesday and Wednesday night, he would eat dinner at her place, and bring two movies that they would watch before having sex and then she would force him out the door—all by midnight. He began showing up earlier and earlier at her place in the evening, hoping to spend as much time with her as possible—he now arrived at her place at six in the evening, with a bag of groceries (he somehow began to make her dinner on those nights, and she would watch him because she somehow burned water) and a couple of movies. The only movies that she only seemed to enjoy turned out to be horror movies. He couldn't help himself, because the Halloween theme music was one of his favorite compositions ever. She didn't get scared. She laughed, and when she got startled by the villain jumping out at a character on the screen, she would laugh even harder at herself.

Their first kiss was the night they celebrated the conclusion of their first project together. She was quite possibly his favorite producer, and she told him that she loved his scores, even though she wasn't a fan of movies (this is what led to his constant harassment about giving her a movication). They had gotten drunk at the bar that night, and she had grabbed his hand, pulling him out into the center of the parking lot where it was dark and secluded. She had pushed him against a car, kissing him forcefully, heatedly, her tongue swirling against his in the most amazing ways. She was in control, and he decided to give her a taste of her own medicine. He pushed her against the car opposite of them, and they both jumped and laughed when it set the car's alarm off. He grabbed her hand, pulling her out of the parking lot towards the street, where he flagged down a cab. They climbed inside of it, and with barely a glance at each other, he told the cab driver his address. Their first kiss turned into the night they spent together. Even after all of these amazing moments they shared, she was still scared of letting them take the next step—to be something more than fuck-buddies.

Jesse sighed, running a hand over his face, wondering if this was all a test. Did she want to know how hard he would fight for her to finally fall in love with him? He was certainly on his way there. They would spend their days working on his music for whatever film he was composing for, and then almost every night together in his bed or hers. They would talk about everything and anything. They would laugh. They would kiss. They would make love (he knew that she would kill him if she ever knew that he thought those words in relation to her). They were the perfect couple without actually using the words couple, girlfriend, boyfriend, relationship, or love. He wanted that. He needed that. With her. Surely, this was all a test to see if he could tell just how amazing she is—how much she is worth fighting for. Because, she is. She is so worth it.

Then again, there is that fuller-figured Australian woman that she works with that always hits on Jesse in front of her. Then, there is the skinny blonde that she works with that always looks like she is about to puke and has a dirty look for him whenever he comes into the room. Apparently, it is against the rules for her to date a client—as in him—so the two women he works with are probably constantly in her ear, telling her that she better not get close to him. These women might have told her that he would break her heart. It honestly doesn't matter either way, though—it could be that she was testing him, or it could be because she had people telling her that he would only break her heart or ruin her career—it didn't matter, because she was a tease. She knew that he cared for her—he told her as much—but she still put her walls anyways. She would tell him that it isn't really love that he was feeling—it was lust, infatuation—it wasn't love, because love didn't exist. That couldn't be true. She couldn't honestly believe that, right? He had shown her enough movies that she had to believe that love existed. He knew that love existed. He had been in love three times in his life: with his high school sweetheart, with his college sweetheart, and the first woman he dated a year after he graduated from college. Sure, none of those relationships had lasted, but it didn't mean that he didn't believe in true love and soul mates. He just knew that he hadn't met that girl yet, and he honestly believed that she could be that girl.

Jesse grabbed his phone from where he had left it on the end table earlier in the evening. Her number was the one that he called and texted the most, ahead of his parents' and siblings and his best friends, like Donald and Benji. He held the phone to his ear, listening to the ringing and the click of her answer. "Hey," she whispered softly.

"You left again," he sighed, and she heard her mumbled apology.

"I have an early morning meeting with Aubrey—I couldn't be late…" She said as an explanation. Jesse scoffed.

"More like: 'I had to run away.' Why did you do that? Because I told you I am in love with you." He could hear her discomfort through the phone. "I told you I love you when we were having sex." He said again. "You ran away."

"Jesse," she said after a moment. "Please, don't…" He sighed loudly, and he could hear her sniffle.

"You know you feel the same way for me, Beca," Jesse said. "You know tonight was different—a hell of a lot better—because I said those words. I can see it in your eyes; you love me, too. I just don't know why you push me away."

"Please, stop." She said again. He shook his head.

"I can't keep doing this anymore, Beca. I love you, and I want more, but if you can't give me that, then I am going to have to walk away. I will see you later…or talk to you later, or something. Bye." He hung up the phone and closed his eyes.

Jesse didn't want to give her up. He needed her. He loved her. He wanted only her, but he couldn't keep putting his heart on the line only to have her walk away like she keeps doing. He wanted more than a fuck-buddy. He wanted a relationship with her, because he loved her. More than he had loved any of the other women he had loved in the past. She was better—worth more to him.

They didn't talk for two days. They were the longest two days of his life, and he felt almost sick with the longing to hold her in his arms, to kiss her, to see her. He didn't go out, because he didn't want to risk seeing her flirt with other men or to go home with another man. Because, she surely was going to move on, because he had to use the l-word and scare her away. He pretty much spent his time at home, on his couch, watching movies, or in front of his piano, composing songs (heartache-filled breakup songs, it appeared). He hardly ate. On the third day, he jumped when someone knocked on his door. He stood up and made his way over to the door, opening it carefully. His eyebrows flew up into his hair as he took in her appearance. He didn't expect to see her there, at his door.

"Beca?" Jesse said, stepping back and holding the door open, allowing her to enter. "What are you doing here?" He said, shutting the door behind her. He took in her appearance. Beca was dressed in a pair of jeans, a pair of flip flops on her feet, and a baggy gray t-shirt (was that his?). Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, and she looked like she had been crying. Her nose was red, as were her cheeks and ears, and her eyes were puffy. She wore no makeup—it was the first time he had ever really seen her without makeup, aside from when she was just out of the shower. He certainly had never seen her crying. "Are you crying?"

"You haven't…you didn't come over for our movie nights." She whispered, wiping at her cheeks. He groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. "You just…you…" She buried her face into her hands for a moment. She dropped her hands, glaring at him. She pushed at his chest, punctuating each of her words with another push. "I hate you, you know that? I was perfectly fine the way that I was, and then you had to fuck everything up!"

"Why are you here, Beca?" He said, catching her hands to keep her from pushing him anymore.

"I hate you…" She whispered. She kept repeating the words over and over. She pulled her hands from his and turned her back on him, wrapping her arms around herself. Jesse sighed, stepping behind her to wrap her arms around her body. He buried his face into Beca's neck.

"I love you, too." He whispered, and she turned in his arms to wrap her arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his lips.

Even though she didn't say the words that he wanted to hear, he knew that she loved him. Beca could have walked away after their conversation in the middle of the night those few nights ago. But, here she was, in his home, crying over the fact that he had missed movie nights with her and had somehow planted himself in her life and "ruined" it. He knew that she loved him, and he loved her. He was going to show her each and every day that she didn't need to be afraid of love. He was going to show her how amazing love can be.