A/N: This chapter deals with mental health issues and alcohol substance abuse, so be aware that this is a sensitive topic warning. Brittany Snow's personal story inspired this chapter.
Chapter 5
Two days earlier
"Oh my God..." Beca is abruptly shaken out of her sleep by a piercing shriek penetrating her subconscious and reaching her ears. "BECA?"
Awakening with a start, Beca slowly turns around in bed to see Chloe covering her mouth with her hand and a mortified expression on her face.
"Morning," she greets the redhead with a smile, rubbing her eyes.
"God, did…?" Chloe stutters, and her bright blue eyes dart over Beca's body under the duvet as she tries to find the right words, "D-Did we…?"
"Did what?" Clutching the duvet to her chest, Beca narrows her eyes at the other woman, trying to comprehend the matter. She doesn't function well in the mornings until she's had her first cup of coffee.
"Did we have… sex?" Chloe whispers her question.
Her eyes, which have always been Beca's favorite shade of blue, are frantically scanning Beca's face for an answer; as they do so, they widen in shock, and Chloe appears to be experiencing some panic attack.
Chloe, as is her wont after a couple of heavy drinks, enters a state of denial, and she... forgets. Possibly experiencing an alcohol-induced blackout such that regretful memories are erased the next day. It's a curse and a blessing, come to think of it. But really, doesn't she remember?
But Beca does. Neither the booze in her system nor the passing of time will erase the image of their sweet kisses from her mind. Beca senses remorse and shame consuming her, being aware that this intimacy with her friend is unethical and all wrong.
Because, at the end of the day, she is still engaged.
Last night, she was so exhausted that she fell asleep in her friend's arms mid-kiss. Depending on your perspective, this might be construed as either a humiliating setback or a fortuitous escape. Because, if things had gone differently, it is impossible to say whether Beca would have been able to withstand Chloe's sexual advances. Exactly as Chloe had done five years ago when she begged Beca to touch her. For years, the thought of it had stayed with her like an addictive substance she'd given up but yet desperately craved.
Not even Luke, despite the fact that they had been together for two and a half years, was ever able to touch her in such a way.
It wasn't like she'd been out for hours. She recalls waking up to check her phone since her fiancé had contacted her many times during the day. So naturally, she sent back a reply. But then a drowsy Chloe had stirred half-awake, startling her…
"Beca…" Chloe leaned in closer, reaching for her face to caress it; their lips connected, and Beca soon felt Chloe's tongue enter her mouth. She barely noticed that she had dropped her phone someplace near her, and the light from it momentarily illuminated the redhead's drooping eyes, making her seem like a sleepwalker on a mission. Regardless, Beca was conscious of her own arms going to encircle Chloe's neck by impulse, like a dance they had rehearsed together before. As if this was her typical response to Chloe's advances of this nature...
She was still too exhausted to put up much of a fight as the redhead lay over her and straddled her hips, swaying her gently. She made a feeble attempt to draw Chloe closer, while simultaneously pushing her away with her hands.
Since she could not do this.
"Chloe, no," Beca, breaking away from the kiss, muttered sleepily and turned her face sideways, only to have Chloe's mouth hungrily chase her.
Chloe's head fell onto Beca's neck, and she began to nibble her skin slowly. "Beca, just… please."
And hearing this, the way Chloe sighed her name, and sought her touch, triggered the flashbacks of their night together to flood her head, prompting her body to respond to Chloe in the only manner it knew how.
But Beca's hands were bound by invisible moral ties that prevented her from moving. Her attention was drawn to the dimming screen of her phone, where Luke's name was above a message telling her he loved her and missed her. With a fast press of the phone's side button, she killed her device. Killed her own thoughts that threatened to overwhelm her, and soon enough, they were drowned out by the groans that Chloe coaxed out of her.
"Chlo, I really can't…."
But the redhead had placed her hands beneath Beca's pajama top, moving it over her head. Her heavy breathing and soft grunts against Beca's skin made it harder to fight her off. She felt the other woman's lips on hers again, but she jerked her head away. A hand fumbled at the back of her bra, clumsy fingers unfastening the hook. Before she knew it, she was nude.
"Oh, God, no…" Beca muttered between her teeth; jaw clenched as she felt delicate hands roaming her sides. She was so turned on that it seemed impossible to resist any longer. One hand then remained below Beca's rib cage, fingernails digging into her skin, lingering there. Then it stilled its movement.
It's been so long since she felt Chloe's touches on her. But her guilty conscience wouldn't let her go any further than this; enjoying this would be out of the question. This was so wrong. She would not only hurt Luke, but in the end, she would also hurt Chloe. And she couldn't let that happen.
With Chloe's face in the nape of her neck, Beca realized that her friend's breathing had become shallow and even. Her body completely sagged on top of her.
Chloe passed out.
"Oh, thank God," Beca breathed out, running a hand over her face to collect herself. "That was pretty close," she whispered into the darkness, huffing a sigh of relief.
As she tried to push Chloe off her carefully, she placed a hand behind the other woman's head to support her neck, laying her beside her on the pillow. Chloe was quietly snoring, sleeping peacefully beside her. She placed the duvet back on Chloe, then kissed her cheek.
And after replying to her fiancé, she fell asleep again, too.
"Dude, no." In response, Beca grumbles and looks closely at Chloe's face, hoping to get a glimpse of something indicating that the redhead might recall what happened last night. Since Beca has never experienced an alcohol-fueled blackout before, she can't understand what it's like to forget things. And if she could, she wouldn't feel such tremendous guilt. "It got so hot during the night. I took my top off. I was, like, sweating profusely. Sorry."
Though she knows it's wrong to lie, she doesn't know what else to say. Nothing happened between them. It might only make her friend feel bad. There's no need to make a mountain out of a molehill. She sighs, considering how much she needs Chloe to stay and how much more they have to talk about. To figure out together where this is going. She doesn't want to hurt anybody just because of a stupid mistake. "You want some breakfast?"
Chloe declines her invitation, insisting that she needs to go.
Making the best out of the situation, at least this will give Beca a chance to gather her thoughts and figure out what she should do next.
*,*,*
Beca begins to pace up and down the hallway once Chloe has left the apartment. She is on edge, her thoughts are all over the place, and she imagines the worst possible outcomes.
She watches as Bella comes out of her cave that's hanging from the ceiling, meowing as she climbs down the scratching post. Possibly sensing Beca's distress, or perhaps only conveying a request for sustenance. She rubs her head on Beca's leg and purrs as she sits at her feet, watching Beca with round eyes.
"Good morning, my sunshine." Beca shows her pet some love by scooping her up and kissing her on the head. She refills the food in Bella's bowl and replaces the water in the container. After placing Bella on the ground, the cat turns away and begins to eat.
As she watches her cat, she realizes that her mind begins to wander, that this is a situation she has never experienced before, and it's giving her the creeps.
She hastily returns to the bedroom, where she prepares to change the bedding. And then reconsiders. For some reason, she feels compelled to do this. However, Luke knows that Beca is hosting friends; the Bellas have been over several times in the six months since she moved in, and Stacie has spent a couple nights in the guest room whether Luke is there or not. However, Beca never let on that one of her guests slept in their bed while Luke was out of town.
She's sure Luke knows. Simply put, she was never quick to change the bedding afterward, and Chloe often forgot her stuff lying on Luke's nightstand. Luke was none the wiser. It never occurred to him to look into it. Never once did he question the long, red hairs on his pillow or the different scent that clearly didn't belong to his fiancée. He just disregarded them and gave Beca a boyish grin that she fell in love with. Maybe he didn't mind if another woman slept in their bed.
She decides to leave the bed as it is, only making it without changing anything, even leaving Chloe's stuff lying around, like her sunglasses and necklace, which she'd be returning to Chloe when they meet again. Feeling frustration building within her, she doesn't know what or why she should be hiding anything.
Because this is what her guilty conscience tells her to do.
During those nights when Chloe stayed over, nothing like this happened. They never kissed or groped; it was like in college when Chloe spent the night in her dorm or vice versa. It was only that—a sleepover.
Well, until that night at the Summer party, days before Chloe's departure.
Beca returns to the living room with her iPhone in hand, hands shaking as she composes a message to the only person who would help her out of this predicament. She will get shouted at, for sure, but she deserves it. She needs someone to yell at her and tell her what a fool she's been.
'Hey, I'm the worst. I don't know what to do. Can we talk?' she types and sends it.
Then she walks to her laptop and cancels her appointments for today, informing her assistant that she'd be working from home. She scans all flights for today and makes a couple of reservations.
Her phone buzzed once, expecting it to be someone else but him. 'Honey, why didn't you get any sleep last nite? Missing me so much? Pardon my late reply. I just finished a nite shift. My heart longs for you.'
When Beca reads Luke's text, she rolls her eyes. This dude never ceases to amaze her with his cheesiness. She finds it nearly impossible to believe that she had interned at the radio station, where he was her demanding and intimidating supervisor. She taps a hasty reply on her phone and sets it down on her desk.
Her phone buzzed again. 'Wait a second,' is the only reply.
Beca takes a long breath and exhales until she becomes dizzy, walking to her kitchen to make coffee and munch on cereal.
She can do this. She'll tell her.
She looks at the clock on the wall, tapping the countertop rather nervously. Then her phone rings.
"Hey," Beca answers the phone, her heartbeat racing, and her chest constricting, "I-I'm sorry for the bother."
"You're not a bother, Beca. You sound distressed. What happened?"
"God, dunno what to do… I fucked up, okay? I fucked up!" Beca exhales a long sigh before turning around to walk back to her living room and slumping down on the couch. Wanting to get it out of the way, she tries to force the words out. It's pointless to dance around the issue. And she has a flight to catch in 2 hours. "I may have made a mistake," she says, playing with the hem of her pajama top, "Chloe came over yesterday. We went out together, got drunk, and we went back to my place. Then…"
"Not again, Beca!"
"No, let me finish; it's not what you think," Beca tries with a shake of her head, "we didn't sleep with each other, but it was close."
"What do you mean, it was close?"
"We, um, kissed. Like, made out drunk."
"WHAT? ARE YOU INSANE?" A crescendo of accusatory tone fills the line and pierces Beca's ear. And Beca has a crystal clear picture in her head of what her friend looks like when she is frustrated. Beca really needs this; she deserves a good scolding. "You're an engaged woman, Beca Mitchell! How dare you? Do you know what you're doing to Chloe?"
"I know what I did," Beca presses her lips tight, blinking the tears away. She clasps a handful of hair close to her scalp and drops her head. "And yes, I thought about Chloe... It's not like I seduced her, y'know? She sort of started it, too."
"I don't care who started it. You can't do that! Get your shit together!" Her friend's words have weight, and she is demanding and overbearing. After that, she adopts a more sympathetic tone. "All right, look, you know you can count on me whenever you need me. If you weren't hurting or didn't think it could affect Chloe, you wouldn't have informed me. I can only imagine how terrible you feel right now."
"I'm so fucked," Beca feels new tears sting her eyes, and she wipes at them. "Aubrey, what do I do now?"
*,*,*
Beca boards the plane like an automaton, her eyes fixed on the scenery outside once seated. Her vision blurs, and she loses track of everything around her—the people sitting beside her, her fear of confined spaces, the buzzing in her ears.
Aubrey didn't provide her with any advice because it wasn't her place to do so. However, she kept reminding Beca about Chloe's fragile mental state. And the whole time, Aubrey was listening to Beca with so much compassion and understanding that would have stunned Beca five years ago. For almost an hour before Beca had to leave for the airport, they discussed everything that had transpired.
As for this fact, Chloe didn't know that it was Aubrey Posen who had told Beca where the redhead vet was completing her clinical rotation. It was fate that Beca's ailing cat ended up in Chloe's care; otherwise, Beca probably would have come up with some other excuse, like taking Bella to the vet for vaccines. She requested Aubrey to provide Beca with the chance to tell Chloe herself. But now is not the right moment.
She scrolls through her messages in her inbox, reading Aubrey's first message to her, only a few years ago…
'Beca, it's about Chloe,' the message read, 'can I call you?'
She skipped classes, the Bellas, and practice for a few days, and after some explanation, her father even gave her some allowance. She had never asked him for money, and her voice conveyed such a sense of urgency that he had no choice but to agree.
Upon arrival, Beca discovered Aubrey seated by Chloe's hospital bed, her limp hand brought to the blonde's face.
"Aubrey! What–"
Aubrey turned and looked at her, eyes puffy red from crying. "Oh, Beca, finally! Chloe's in a coma for a week," she informed Beca without skipping a beat. "I didn't know what to do. Her parents are informed; they are on their way from their trip."
"W-What happened?" Beca approached the bed, her gaze falling on Chloe's emaciated, pallid face. She seemed worn out and overworked, with dark bags under her eyes and cracked purple lips. Her red, curly hair reached her shoulders and framed her face. Beca couldn't believe what her eyes were seeing, since Chloe was nearly unrecognizable. "Oh my God, Chloe! No!"
When Chloe had settled into her new Brooklyn home and started vet school, she struggled with an eating disorder and clinical depression. She was under so much pressure trying to keep up with the requirements of veterinary school that she came dangerously close to starving herself to death. Chloe's rapid weight loss went unnoticed as she retreated from friends and social activities; nobody intervened or offered help. Not even her former roommates. She would go days without eating and occasionally without sleeping. When she realized she needed help staying awake, she began taking pills. Chloe's eating disorder exacerbated her depression and sleep deprivation to the point that she collapsed. After many days of not hearing from her, Aubrey notified the police and traveled to New York to investigate.
It was a nightmare.
Beca stayed in Brooklyn for a few days to take turns with Aubrey. She didn't have the money to afford a hotel room in Brooklyn and could only afford two days, at max. So, Aubrey paid for the expenses. She needed Beca to stay.And they needed each other's support in these challenging times, not knowing exactly where to go from there and how to help Chloe but agreeing that they needed professional help for their friend.
That was when Beca started bonding with Aubrey as they discussed things. They also settled their past disagreements and petty disputes, talked about, among other things, Jesse, the Bellas, and, most importantly, how to best support Chloe with her mental health issues. In addition, they would need the Bellas' support. Emotional coercion, however, was useless. Thus, everything had to come from Chloe.
And why did Aubrey call Beca, of all people?
Because Aubrey knew. That one fateful night five years ago, she was the one who had stumbled upon them in Chloe's dorm room to find Beca nude, drunk, and weary in Chloe's arms. It was utterly humiliating because of all people, it was Aubrey fucking Posen who had found them in such a state. But to Beca's own surprise, Aubrey didn't say a word as she discreetly gathered some stuff and left the dorm again.
For this reason, Aubrey chose to bring back Beca into Chloe's life, fearing that the distance from Beca had left Chloe feeling sad. Beca had scoffed at the thought, convinced that her presence would have no effect. She didn't bring Chloe out of her darkness.
Once Chloe's parents got to the hospital, Beca remained at the hotel, sharing the room with Aubrey.
She didn't want to meet Chloe's parents. Because she didn't want Chloe to find out that she still cared for her. After all, it was Chloe who had cut off all contact with them, with her friends from college. With Beca. Chloe didn't need the pressure.
The coma had left Chloe disoriented and unable to identify anybody upon her awakening. Beca recalled being there and crying while holding her friend's hand. Aubrey stood behind her, a comforting hand on her shoulder.
The arrival of Chloe's parents had always prompted Beca to leave the hospital every time. Aubrey had briefed her on Chloe's prognosis for the coming months and years, and Beca had pleaded with her not to mention to Chloe that Beca had been around. Sooner or later, Chloe would tell Beca about her struggles with mental health, if she felt ready. There may be a reluctance to broach this subject because of its potential sensitivity.
Hours later, after checking in, Beca asks the receptionist where room 304B is. She then proceeds to that section of the building. It's where the lucrative suites are located.
Once arriving at the correct unit, she knocks heavily on the door. A grunt comes from behind the wooden door, then footsteps approach, and the door opens slowly.
"Oh, hey."
"Hey," Beca greets him. "Can we talk?"
"Honey, what's wrong?" Luke asks groggily, yawning. He's only in his boxers, his toned abs well-defined, and he looks so damn hot as always. Hot enough to attract a couple of women who deserve him more. "Are you all right?"
"I… can we…" Beca walks inside the room, closing the door behind her. She looks around the suite; there's the messy bed, Luke's luggage strewn about, his clothes everywhere, as well as his music equipment in a black suitcase, the only thing that's organized.
Luke enfolds her in his arms and kisses her on the forehead, holding her sleepily. "Sorry, my sweet love. The night shift was terrible, and I feel bloody knackered." She used to find his British accent to be one of his most alluring qualities. Beca's sure that most women do. "Come in bed with me." He cradles Beca in his arms, carries her over to the bed, and gently sets her down on the mattress, where he cuddles her. Beca's posture stiffens. That kind of reaction, especially toward her own fiancé, has not happened for so long. "Fancy a quick nap?" Then his eyes drift shut, his breathing slows, and he dozes off again.
"Oh, damn it," Beca grunts. She understands, however, that she, too, is exhausted. She felt her internal tension level mounting as she reflected on the night, the short trip surrounded by other people, and her conversation with Aubrey that left her with a new resolve, and now, how she'd rather be lying in bed with Chloe than with her fiancé. And thus, she shuts her eyes. At least, for a short moment only.
*,*,*
When Beca wakes up, Luke is in the shower. She checks her phone; it's almost noon. And her phone indicates a new text message.
'Would you like to come over this Friday? I have no plans yet. You? Maybe we can think of something nice.'
Beca listens as the shower comes to a stop. She quickly types back, 'Sure, I'd love to. I'll call you tomorrow.'
Beca has something planned for Chloe's birthday this Friday, and with Aubrey's assistance, she has researched to find out what Chloe would want to do to celebrate her special day. Like nothing too fancy, no other people involved, just simple things. Beca sighs, remembering the exuberant, outgoing redhead from her college days and thinking about how much she has changed.
Beca spent weeks of work getting the present ready and getting everything settled with her company; everything is in order now. Half a year later, the track she sold is beginning to pay off. All the money that was supposed to go to Chloe from the beginning—because she was the spark for the project—is now going to the animal shelter from which Beca has adopted Bella. The animal shelter, where Chloe has been volunteering since her first day at vet school.
It's incredible how fate determines some outcomes.
"Hey, honey," Luke greets her with a smile, "did I wake you?"
Beca looks up at him. He's rubbing his damp hair with a towel. He's dressed in jeans and a black button-down shirt.
"No, I needed to get up anyway." Beca scoots to the edge of the king-sized bed and straightens her clothes and hair. She tucks her phone back into her purse.
"I could eat a horse; you hungry?" he asks, throwing the wet towel in one corner. If he had done this at home, Beca would have jammed the towel into his tight behind till he began to gag. "They have a buffet in the cafeteria."
"Can we talk?" Beca asks him.
"About?"
"Well, about everything, I dunno."
Beca hears him moving to her, grabbing her arm, and cocking his head.
"Let's go out to eat, darling," Luke suggests gently, "I reckon we can talk while having lunch, don't you think?"
*,*,*
"You haven't finished your meal."
In the midst of Beca's internal struggle over how to handle the situation, Luke's voice cuts her off. Since she boarded the plane, she's been making mental preparations.
"Luke, listen," Beca starts, placing her fork and knife beside her plate, trying to hold eye contact. "Do you remember Chloe?"
Luke puffs a lungful of air, looking to be in concentration. "Okay, I know you mentioned her before. Is it the tall brunette?"
"No, that's Stacie," Beca clarifies, looking about her uneasily.
"How's she doing, by the way?" he asks, chewing on his steak and watching Beca curiously.
"She's fine."
"Pregnancy going well?"
"Luke, it's not about Stacie." Beca takes a deep breath, grabs her glass, and takes a sip of her wine. Patience is a virtue, Beca Mitchell. "Do you remember Chloe?" she asks again but can't help but feel her irritation forming at the base of her gut.
"I'm sorry, honey, but I just can't place a face with that name," Luke says, shrugging his shoulders. "What about her?"
"I met her in college; maybe you remember her." Beca takes her phone from her purse and unlocks it. She opens her inbox and taps on Chloe's profile picture. "Here."
Luke gives the picture an approving nod. "Neat. She looks very lush," he comments with a whistle. Beca can only assume that it's a compliment. He doesn't take her phone.
"Do you remember her now?" Beca asks, leaving the phone between them. She taps on the inbox, which clearly displays a bunch of heart and kissy smileys between their exchanges. Luke doesn't ask, doesn't react to it, doesn't show any sign that he acknowledges the sweet interactions between his fiancée and another woman.
"Sorry, honey, can't remember who that is," Luke says again, cutting his steak leisurely and munching another mouthful. "Why?"
"I've been seeing her lately," Beca exhales with an unsteady breath, taking her phone and throwing it back in her purse.
"Ah, you're leaving the house sometimes," Luke remarks teasingly, nodding. No anger. No jealousy. "I'm glad you're having fun with your girls."
"Luke, I've been seeing her, don't you get it?" Beca snaps, not caring how that may sound. And she watches Luke's facial features turn into confusion. Finally, a first reaction. "She's Bella's vet. And she stayed the night at our place."
"Okay." Luke also places his cutlery beside his plate, drinking from his glass, and digesting the input of information Beca is providing him. She has his full attention now. "How was it?" He seems to be trying to figure out why this is so important to Beca. But he's asking the wrong questions.
"I met her, um, at the vet clinic. We exchanged numbers and hung out a lot. It's going great. We were close friends in college," Beca rambles without any structure or sense. She doesn't plan on making a scene in public, so she tries to calm her nerves by tapping her foot on the ground. Everyone else in the hotel's cafeteria is preoccupied with their own chats and interactions with their spouses or small groups. "And yesterday, she came over and stayed the night. We had been drinking. It was fun, like, um, how it was before."
"Okay, that's great to hear," Luke comments, displaying genuine delight for her. He doesn't see where this conversation is going. He leans back against his backrest and folds his hands on his stomach, his eyes telling her to go on. "So, you want to tell me that you hit it off?" he tries a guess, taking Beca's hand into his, which feels weird because of how big it seems compared to hers. "Beca, I don't mind if you ask her."
Beca is taken aback. "Ask her?"
"Yeah, ask her to be your maid of honor," Luke clarifies, smiling. "I can tell Emilia that you'd rather have a close friend taking this position."
Beca sags in her seat as her whole energy depletes, jerking her hand away from him. She can't believe this is happening. How can a person be so oblivious? Possibly this is because those who spend too much time in their heads—like artists—often require the help of others to bring them back down to earth.
"Luke, it's not about Emilia," Beca says tersely, her fists clenching on her lap, "I love your sister. But this isn't about her. It's not about the wedding. It's not about us. This is about me." She takes a jagged breath in, eyebrows furrowed. "It's about me and… Chloe."
His confusion is now painting his face in a reddish hue as his eyebrows pull together and his eyes run across the table to piece everything together. "So, you shagged her?" he asks, dark green eyes piercing her.
"No," Beca says quietly, unable to look him in the eye. "But almost."
"Almost…"
"Yes, Luke, almost," Beca repeats tersely, her stomach in knots. Good thing she just had a similar conversation with Aubrey this morning.
Luke scratches his head, trying to process that. Then he nods. "What does that mean? Like, mid-thrust she pulled out?" he laughs, "Sorry, I don't get it."
Beca groans. "Are you serious right now?"
"Becs, I'm not sure I'm open to this. But since I think she's good-looking, and..."
"What? What do you mean you're not open to this? What do you even think I'm proposing?" Beca crosses her arms and mulls over his phrase. Like she has become used to Fat Amy's Australian English vocabulary, she has gotten used to his British English vocabulary, and it's often difficult to understand what they meant.
"You with another woman," Luke simply says.
"God, I'm not asking for permission, Lucas," Beca snaps angrily, then blurts out because she's so impatient and barely has the nerves to keep him in the dark, like wanting to slap it in his face only for him to understand and see it, "I kissed her, Luke. We made out in our bed. I'm sorry, I did that. I cheated on you."
Luke blinks, taken aback. His eyes widen in surprise or shock, Beca can't tell. He runs his hand across his face to process that. Then he says, "I'm not sure that's cheating, Beca."
"What? How's that not cheating?" It's strange, very strange, that Beca would react so strongly to the presence of someone who maintains such composure and emotional control. This is the reason why she's convinced she no longer loves him. "I kissed another woman!"
Nearby patrons turn their heads in their direction, but Beca doesn't care.
"Yeah, it's another woman," Luke says calmly, reaching for his glass and taking a sip. "I don't feel threatened by that."
"Seriously? You don't feel threatened?"
"Blimey, Beca," Luke says, lifting his palms towards her, "keep your knickers on! People are staring."
"Look, I'm left-handed, and if I punch you with my right hand, did I really punch you?" Ah, the classic, Beca thought. And she almost considers punching him for real, but violence isn't in her nature, and certainly not the solution.
"Okay, how'd you feel if I told you I snogged another bloke?" Luke asks, shrugging his shoulders and cocking his head to the side, challenging her. "How'd you feel about that?"
"Did you?" Beca raises a brow at him.
"Of course not," Luke says, grimacing. "But how would you feel?"
"Um, I'm not sure." Beca tucks a curl behind her ear, thinking about her fiancé kissing another dude. It sure is weird, but also, love is love. "But it's still cheating. It's breaking a relationship rule because you did it without my consent or knowledge."
"But I know you're very close with your girls, honey," Luke says, a half-smirk on his face. Again, a shrug, a puff of air, then lips pressed tight to a straight line. He's still composed. Nothing ever bothers him. "And if it's the same woman you shagged in college, then I'm not surprised. First love never dies, right?"
Beca closes her eyes. Oh my God! She told him about that. Of course, she did. And he remembers. Luke isn't forgetful; he does pay attention to her and everything she's told him. He's not a bad guy. He's just oblivious. Sometimes. More than Beca is. They are a perfect match in that department.
"It's the same woman," Beca admits quietly, opening her eyes and staring at him. She fiddles with the engagement ring on her ring finger.
Luke studies her closely as if only now he sees her. He nods. "I see."
He slumps back in his seat, and they remain quiet for a short moment, letting everything sink and processing where this conversation has taken them. And most importantly, what it means for them.
Suddenly, it seems to dawn on him why Beca has traveled all the way to him when she's never paid him a visit at the hotel. Things she may have wanted to discuss were never brought up, yet she sought to speak to him. She has never been adamant about emphasizing an issue that now appears crucial to her.
"I see," he repeats.
"Let's go," Beca says, grabs her purse, and leaves.
*,*,*
Once they return to Luke's suite, he sits on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, looking deep in thought. It's the first time he's ever shown any emotions like this. He's not a robot, after all. It just takes him a bit to process things.
"You sure you want this break?" Luke asks her, not looking up. He has his hands folded in front of him, feet shuffling nervously on the floor.
Beca leans against the closed door, eyes turning away. It hurts to look at him. "I guess I need to figure things out," she says quietly.
"Can we talk when I get back?" Luke requests her, eyes begging. "Let us think things through. I'm sure we can fix this. What did I do wrong, Beca?"
"You did nothing wrong," Beca reassures him, meaning it. It was never his fault. He has been an excellent partner in every way imaginable to Beca, from boyfriend to lover to fiancé. Who provided her with a beautiful home and supported her financially when she lacked the means to do so. She's the one who made a mistake. Beca is devastated by all that has happened, but she is certain that she was never meant to be with him anyhow. Never was. Never will. "Even if Chloe might not feel the same about me, I will always be there for her, Luke. I love her. I always have. And it's not fair to both of you if I played games." Tears stream down her cheeks, and she wipes at them. "This is not who I am. I hate myself so much."
Luke walks to her with quick strides, taking her in his arms. "I love you, honey. Don't cry," he says softly in her hair. Beca pushes him off gently away, not wanting any physical contact, not any comfort from him. She's the one hurting him and he shouldn't be comforting her.
He lets go, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets. "Let's talk about this, Beca, at least give me a chance," he says again.
"Okay." Beca nods, sniffing. "But we won't be able to fix this, Luke. We weren't broken. I just don't love you anymore. I-I can't."
He sighs, rubs the back of his head. "Give me time to think," he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. "At least, you owe me this much."
Beca, nodding her head once, turns the door knob. "Okay, I'll see you at home," she says. She doesn't kiss him goodbye.
And once she stands on the other side of the door, a flood of relief washes over her.
*,*,*
"Happy birthday, Chloe."
Chloe's mouth opens and closes as though she were a fish out of the water, and her eyes dart back and forth from the check in her hands to Beca. Beca is taken aback by her friend's emotional response, wondering if this is too much, and the redhead's eyes suddenly fill with tears.
"Why…?" like a gasp of disbelief, and Chloe's eyebrows furrow as she pierced her gaze at Beca.
"You don't have to accept it," Beca says softly, feeling a slight panic in her chest. "I just thought that those homeless animals–"
"Why… are you doing this to me?" Chloe asks and her voice is suddenly strained, anger seeming to rise. Beca is taken aback. Her friend's hands tremble as she places the check down on the coffee table, covering her face and wiping the tears away. She turns her head. "Beca, you're making this really hard for me!"
"What do you mean?" Beca lets out a squeak of shock. She backs away, away from Chloe, to give her some space. "Dude, I didn't mean like, I dunno, I don't even know what you mean. Talk to me."
Chloe shoots up to her feet and walks to the kitchen to grab some tissue, blowing her nose.
Beca doesn't know what's going on, and she feels helpless. Like staring through a cloud of a smoke grenade, her thoughts are a whirlwind in her head, blurring her vision and making it impossible for her to see clearly or comprehend what's going on. Where did she go wrong, what exactly did she do wrong?
For the first time, she can empathize with Luke's frustration at not comprehending Beca. This is some unfavorable karma; it came back to bite her in the rear.
Perhaps she should've taken Aubrey's advice and gotten Chloe a book instead, or some artwork, or even just a birthday card. Or perhaps nothing at all, considering that Aubrey had forewarned her that Chloe did not want to make a big deal out of her birthday or do anything to commemorate the occasion.
God, she's a moron for thinking this is a cool present. Just a check, fuckwit, she scolds herself. Beca, you did it again.
She gives a frustrated sigh, shakes her head, and clasps a palm to her forehead while staring at the check that is sitting on the coffee table as if it were the source of all problems in the world.
"Beca, maybe…" Chloe says from across the room, "maybe you should leave."
"Oh." Of all things, she didn't expect the redhead to say this, to throw her out. Beca needs to understand what is causing this. Chloe is the most important person in the whole world to her. "Okay. I'm sorry, Chloe."
Think, Beca. Reflect on Chloe's general behavior this evening or the past few weeks. The paradoxical situation in which she welcomed Beca over, yet she has been trying to avoid being in Beca's proximity. Initiating physical contact, followed by distancing. How the redhead has been sneaking looks at her but avoiding eye contact whenever Beca has returned the gaze. The kisses that were never meant to happen, yet they happened.
What does that mean?
What if it's not about the present? Beca lets her brain work, thinking hard, forcing herself to see what is in front of her. She knows from experience how frustrating it is when Luke never understood her. But she isn't as clueless as Luke.
"I-I'll drive you back," Chloe offers despite herself, sniffing again and throwing the tissue into her garbage bin. She brushes her hair back, trying to collect herself. She's not looking at Beca, only looking about the room, maybe thinking about where to start, where Beca's belongings are.
She stops right before a dozing Bella, who is curled up by her scratching post, reluctant to wake the sleeping cat. Then more tears flood her eyes—Chloe isn't mad at her, that one thing is for sure. She watches as the redhead wraps her arms around her body, shuddering as she cries.
"You're not mad at me, right?" Beca asks softly as she slowly gets up, watching and not wanting to miss any of Chloe's reactions and body language. "And it's not about the gift?" She walks over to her until she stands behind her. "Chloe... I…" she breathes evenly through slightly parted lips, trying really hard to understand and hoping that her intuition isn't failing her this time. Did Luke's obliviousness wear off on her so badly that she can't read Chloe anymore? Was she ever able to do that, to read her correctly? "Maybe I'm reading things wrong, um, I'm not sure. But… I… you know I'm an idiot," she chuckles awkwardly, rubbing her neck, "and I should've told you sooner… I have not been honest with you." She pauses, noticing Chloe's shuddering body stiffen slightly, her head slightly turning. "This is really hard for me." Beca puffs out. "I'm not good at this."
"What is it, Beca?" Chloe urges her. Her voice is soft and broken.
"I-I think," Beca stutters, swallowing hard, "I, um, I love you. Ha-ha, weird, huh? I mean, like, romantically. Ugh. That was hard." Beca bites her bottom lip and straightens her body. And with a firmer, more confident voice she says, "I broke up with Luke, two days ago. I told him about you. I told him everything."
Chloe's body relaxes entirely as if releasing some air of relief, or maybe it's bewilderment. She turns around slowly, facing Beca now. She wipes her eyes. "What?" she whispers, uncertain if she heard correctly.
"I broke up with him," she repeats, biting the inside of her cheek. "And I love you."
Beca laughs nervously as she tries to maintain eye contact with Chloe's stunning blue eyes, but she eventually averts her gaze and stares at the floor instead. "I went to Tennessee the other day to talk to him in person," she explains, occasionally glancing up, "because I knew I fucked up. And I needed to tell him, y'know, what I did and everything. I told him about you." Chloe swallows and a small smile forms on her lips. "I fell out of love with him…" she looks back at Chloe now, intently watching her and wanting desperately that the other woman understands her, when she delivers the next words, "…the moment I met you again." Beca chuckles lightly, feeling awkward because she hates talking about her feelings and making herself vulnerable. Again, she understands why Luke is so cheesy because he's in love with her. People in love say cheesy things.
But Chloe just stares at her, mouth partly agape.
Clearing her throat, Beca lifts her shoulders and drops them again. "Say something," she says, smiling and feeling her heart race wildly.
Chloe just remains standing there, unmoving, and staring at her with wide, glimmering eyes.
Beca takes a step back, to tear her eyes from Chloe, shaking her head as she feels exasperated when Chloe remains silent. Fighting the urge to curl up into a ball and bury her head in the sand while the anguish unfurls around her consumes all of Beca's might. As thick as tar, her sadness threatens to seep out of her if she lets it.
Beca has been wrong—this isn't what Chloe wanted to hear, either.
"I'm an idiot," she mumbles and runs her hand through her hair, turning around.
As she begins gathering her belongings and putting them in her backpack, Chloe grabs her wrist, making her turn.
"What?" Beca snaps angrily. She had to tell herself to take deep breaths again and over. "What do you want to hear from me, Chloe?"
But Chloe only kisses her.