A very hungover Beca sat on a stool in her shared kitchenette with Fat Amy and Chloe while looking at her bank account balance. She took a sharp breath at her recent transactions and regretted every single penny she spent the night before. Things did not look good.

"You're up early." The chipper voice of Chloe broke her train of thoughts who had just entered the apartment and could see her since the apartment was the size of a shoebox.

"Yeah, not by choice," Beca grumbled, closing the lid of her computer and bringing her mug of coffee to her lips. —when they got home drunk off their asses, both Fat Amy and Beca crashed on the same bed that was Beca's. Fat Amy rolled over her and squashed her in the process.

"I didn't hear you when you came home, when did you get home last night?" Chloe continued to ask as she pulled the fridge door open and grabbed a bottle of water.

"I'm not sure." Beca watched Chloe drown the bottle then said, "Where do you find the energy to go out for runs on weekends?"

Chloe shrugged and gave no worded answer, proceeding to take off her sports bra.

"Jesus, Chloe, I thought we agreed on keeping our clothes on when we're around each other," Beca deadpanned, tilting her head to look away.

"It's sticky," Chloe complained.

"Take it off in the bathroom before you hop into the shower, weirdo," Beca reasoned and grabbed her phone when it vibrated, rolling her eyes when she saw that her mother was calling her.

"Who are you ignoring this fine morning?" Chloe asked, resting her elbows on the counter, facing Beca.

"Mom. All she wants to talk about these days is my love life and how all of her friends' kids are married and are having babies… Somehow the fact that I haven't jumped on the married life train affects her."

"Well, you can't jump on the married life train when you don't even have a boyfriend," Chloe noted.

"Mom doesn't know that," Beca mumbled, sipping her coffee.

"Your mother thinks you're in a relationship?"

"I told her I am just so she would leave me alone and she did for a few months," she sighed. "Now she wants me to bring the said guy home." Beca rubbed her temple, tilting her head for a second before she looked away again. "For the love of God, could you please put something on?"

"No," Chloe answered curtly. "You can't lie about something like this, Becs."

"I know. It's just Mom doesn't get it. She doesn't get that I don't even think about marriage. I don't think about finding Mr. Right. I'm not even sure there is a Mr. Right for me and that's fine." She shrugged. "It's just easier to tell her what she wants to hear."

"You're wrong." Chloe straightened up. "Mr. Right is out there somewhere. You just haven't met him yet. Or you have and you busted his balls and he's now afraid to talk to you." She sighed. "So, what are you gonna do? Rent a boyfriend and take him home to meet your mother?"

Beca rolled her eyes at her friend's words. "I'll tell her it didn't work out between us if she insists."

"Then lie again about meeting someone?" Chloe guessed.

"Maybe." Beca shrugged.

"I love you but I don't like the way you're handling this. It's very immature and you're way better than this," Chloe firmly said before she began making her way to the bathroom.

Beca felt bad for lying to her mother and knew Chloe was a 100% right but she was ready to get into a conversation about her love life with her mother and was going to postpone coming clean for as long as she could.

Work was a bitch, especially when you're only doing it for the money. Jesse promised himself that he was going to quit the moment he got an opportunity to do what he really loved and went to school for. It was a matter of time. His days waiting tables won't be long. His days putting up with rude costumers won't be long.

"Would you like a refill?" he was asking the costumer that he noticed had become a regular at the coffee place recently.

"Yeah, thank you," she answered, politely smiling at him.

He nodded and refilled her mug of coffee, quickly taking in her appearance: she was wearing an over-sized band t-shirt and flannel plaid lounge pants. She was in pajamas he soon figured.

"You live nearby?" he found himself asking.

"Eh, yeah," she replied. "I live upstairs, actually."

'Huh.' He thought it was weird that she lived so close yet only recently had become a regular.

"So, you can't be here for the free Wi-Fi," he joked, smiling a little when he heard her snort.

"Coffee is great… and cheap," she told him, bringing the mug to her lips.

"I wish I lived close to work. Is there a vacancy in the building?" He didn't know why he was making small talk with the costumer when he should be doing his work.

"Not that I know of but I can give you the landlord's contact information if you want."

"Thank you." He wasn't planning to move out from his place, his roommates were great, besides the job was temporary. "I'm Jesse by the way," he introduced himself.

"I know," she nodded at the name tag on his shirt as she took a sip of coffee.

"It's a pleasure meeting you, neighbor from upstairs," he said before he left her table, resuming his work.

When he was getting ready to leave a co-worker of his approached him while holding a piece of paper in his hand.

"A costumer left this for you," she told him.

He accepted the piece of paper and quickly read it. "Thanks, Megan." He folded the paper containing the contact information of the building's landlord and stuffed it in his wallet.

Jesse regretted not asking for her contact information. She was nice to him and other waiters, which was always a great sign that she was a good person.

He decided as he started to make his way out of the coffee place that next time he saw her he was going to ask her out.

"Hey." He didn't expect to run into her as soon as he exited the coffee place. "Um, I get that our coffee is cheap but you shouldn't be drinking so much coffee, it's not good for you heart," he told her and received an eye roll in response.

"I think I dropped my keys in there." She nodded behind him.

"Oh. I'll help you look for them." He opened the door and stepped back inside. "Thanks." He heard her say.

He helped her look for a while and couldn't find them. "Do you remember the last time you saw your keys?" he asked.

"No. Not really." She scratched her head.

"C'mon, you spent the whole day here. If they're not here they're in your building probably or on the sidewalk."

They looked on the sidewalk and found nothing.

"Dude, you don't have to wait with me. My roommates won't take forever," she was saying as Jesse leaned against the wall.

"It's fine. I don't have anything to do." He frowned when she wrapped her arms around herself. "You must be freezing." He shook his head for being such an idiot and not noticing sooner. It was late in the evening and it was getting colder every day.

"Here," he was saying as he shrugged off his coat.

"Dude, no. Keep your coat on."

He paused for a second. "Well, then get in here we'll share." She eyed him suspiciously but obliged. She was so small that it wasn't that hard to keep her warm.

"This isn't weird at all," she deadpanned.

"Nope. Totally normal." He rested his chin on her head. "I've kept strangers warm before, if you know what I mean."

"Shut up," she snickered.

He smiled to himself then tilted his head when someone stepped out of the building.

"Mr. Robin, thank god," she exclaimed, catching the man's attention.

"Beca, hello," he answered, glancing at Jesse for a second before he looked back at Beca who explained to him briefly what happened.

The man offered to let Beca stay in his apartment until her roommates showed up but Beca declined. She was just glad that she wouldn't have to wait outside anymore.

Despite how warm it was, Beca stepped away from Jesse and rushed inside the building while Jesse stood on the sidewalk his eyes falling on the hot dog stand at the end of the street.

"Hey, Beca, are you hungry?" he asked. He knew he was.

She shrugged, following his gaze. "I could eat."

"Hold the door, I'll be back in a minute," he said to which she nodded. "Okay."

He ended up, making a stop at a deli and purchasing juice pouches.

"How old are you?" Beca asked in amusement once they sat down on the floor near the door of her apartment, after looking around for her keys and failing to find them, to eat and Jesse held a juice pouch her way.

"How old do you think I am?" he asked, placing the straw in the pouch.

"Twelve," she answered and took a bite from her hot dog. "But seriously, how old are you?" she asked genuinely. He was nice enough to keep her company until the girls got home; she felt she should get to know him better instead of just sitting awkwardly.

"Twenty-Five," he answered. "You?"

"How dare you ask a girl about her age?" she asked, pretending to have taken offense. To which he rolled his eyes.

"Fine, I'll guess." He took a moment to look at her. "You're in your mid-twenties, too."

"Yeah, that's not an actual guess, smartass. Give me a number."

"Okay." He paused. "Twenty…Four?"

"Twenty-Five," she informed.

"Close enough." He shrugged. "You spent the whole day on your laptop, are you a writer?" he asked next.

"No, not a writer." She paused to swallow. "I actually make music. I'm a record producer." He didn't have to know that she quit almost two weeks ago and spent the whole day looking for jobs online.

"I'm a composer," he told her. "Well, I went to school to become a composer. It's all I ever wanted to be honestly. I've done internships here and there but they don't pay the bills so I haven't got to compose for a living yet." He scratched his head, feeling a little uncomfortable. The topic of work was quite embarrassing because usually his situation was the floor to many unfunny jokes.

"I quit my dream job recently," she blurted out. "And, I'm pretty sure I'm having an existential crisis."

He frowned eyeing her when she let out a humorless chuckle. "I haven't told anyone this." She cleared her throat. "I don't want to make music anymore." She tried to blame the working environment for pushing her to quit but she knew deep down that it was her that just didn't want to do it anymore.

"You sure it's not just a creative block you're having."

She shook her head. "I still have it. I just want to be my thing, you know?" He nodded despite not understanding what she meant. "I don't want to sit and listen to some rich tone-deaf idiot tell me how to make music."

"Then don't," he told her. "Work with people you believe in. Make music that you'd listen to. Doesn't have to be for money." He shrugged.

"Well, I kinda need money." She grimaced.

"Money will come." He set the empty juice pouch down. "I write pieces for myself because I love writing music. I want to do it for a living of course and I will." He paused for a moment, noting the frown that formed on her forehead. "What I'm trying to say is that I do it because I love it."

She nodded her head and said nothing back. They had different opinions and there was no need to get into it.

"What sort of music do you compose?" she asked, moving on.

"The none-lyrical kind," he answered, shifting in discomfort. They had been sitting on the floor for quite some time, his butt was sore.

"Do you like imagine situations and write a score that complete them? How does it work?" She was curious if his approach to music was different from hers. It had to be because she had the lyrics to use as tool.

"Sometimes, yeah," he affirmed. "Other times, it's just something I see or live."

"Like what?" She tilted her head to look at him.

"Like now. Just sitting on the floor with a girl who I only learned her name because her neighbor called her by her name in front of me." He nudged her.

"Sorry." She shook her head. "I hate when I do that."

"You unintentionally don't give your name a lot?" he was slightly confused.

"Yeah, I also forget to ask people their name. There are people that I worked with that I still don't know their names. It's weird to just ask them about their name after working with them for like a year."

"You're a weirdo, Beca," he concluded. "What's your full name? I'm gonna look up the songs you produced later."

"Oh, please, don't."

"C'mon, it can't be that bad."

"It so is. Dude, I worked with zero integrity. I worked with people that even auto tune can't fix their voices. I had to add my own voice to tracks just so it wouldn't cause listeners' ears to bleed."

"Your own voice, huh?"

"Yeah," she sighed. She wasn't very proud of the music she made and that was part of why she didn't want to do it anymore. She kind of lost hope in the music industry as a whole. It was cynical to think that way and she knew it.

"Sing me a song you produced?" he requested. "I promise I won't look it up later."

"Okay," she inhaled deeply before she sang the hook to Bend Over (Stand Up).

"Wow. You have amazing vocals."

"Shut up," she rolled her eyes, mistaking his genuine awe of her voice for sarcasm.

"No, I'm serious. If your voice were a person, I'd marry it."

"Okay, that's weird."

"Actually, it would make an interesting movie, a guy falling for a voice… wait, they already made that."

"You're so weird," she noted seeing how his legit excitement was replaced mock annoyance.

"Since you can sing very well, why don't you just produce music and sing it yourself?"

"I'm not a singer. I can sing but I'm not a singer. People in the industry in general are more than a talent which is why a shit ton of untalented morons make banks in music."

"What makes a successful entertainer?" She sounded very bitter and he wondered how much shit she had seen in the music industry to become so cynical.

"An interesting persona," she answered.

"Well, I can help you create an interesting persona," he offered and heard a small chuckle.

"Thanks but no thanks."

"Suit yourself." He shrugged. "But if you change your mind, you know where to find me." He paused. "Or you know what? I'll just give you my number."

She handed him her phone and he typed his cellphone number. She dialed his number the moment he handed it back to her so that he'd also have her number.

He liked her when they first interacted at the coffee place. Having spent some time with her, he liked her even more. She was pretty friendly and seemed to enjoy his company but she hadn't shown any sign that she was into him.

She could be seeing someone for all he knew. She didn't know he was single, she wouldn't show interest in him even if she liked him back if she didn't know he was single—that if she was into men altogether.

He was overthinking whether to ask her out or not and didn't really know why.

They both tilted their heads when they heard the elevator door open.

"Chloe, finally!" Beca said once her friend stepped out of the elevator.

Jesse pushed himself up then helped Beca get on her feet. "Hi, I'm Jesse," he went on to introduce himself.

"A new neighbor?" Chloe wondered.

"No, I work at the coffee place downstairs," he informed, extending his hand to shake Chloe's hand.

"Chloe," she smiled at him, introducing herself.

"Pleasure meeting you, Chloe," he went on to say, letting go of her hand.

"Likewise…What brings you upstairs, Jesse?" she questioned, curious as she went to unlock the door.

"Chivalry," Beca answered for him and received an eye roll from her friend. "No, really, Jesse was nice enough to keep me company until you got here," she added. "He also got hot dogs and juice pouches. What's that if not chivalry?"

"It's nothing, really." He shrugged, bending to pick up the plastic bag in which they put the empty pouches and wrappers.

"Wow, your girlfriend is one lucky lady," Chloe noted.

"I don't have a girlfriend," he informed and didn't miss the look Chloe gave Beca. "I should get going." He turned to Beca. "I'll see you around?"

"Yeah," Beca nodded, resisting the urge to roll her eyes when Chloe mouthed 'he's hot' as she entered the apartment, leaving Beca standing at the door with Jesse.

"Thanks for feeding me and for sticking around," she was saying as she drummed her fingers on the door.

"It's a pleasure." He started to make his way to the elevator then stopped, turning around to face her. "Hey, Beca," he called glad she hadn't stepped inside the apartment yet.

"Mhm?"

"Wanna grab a bite or something some time?" He thought about it, why wait when he really liked her. If she was seeing someone, she'd reject him now and he'll get over it.

She took too long before she nodded. "Text me."

He found himself grinning at the small smile that was playing on her lips.