He was pacing towards the diner he frequented most nights. As soon as he was inside the dinner, he began unbuttoning his coat as he looked for an empty booth.
Spotting one near the glass window he made his way to it and got seated. He was reaching for the menu when he heard a voice that sounded familiar and tilted his head.
It was her. If he thought he was mistaking her for another person the scary ear spike was there to assure him that he wasn't. The girl he met a week ago on the side of the road and help her fix her car and somehow ended up taking her virginity later the very same day was sitting right behind him and had her back to him.
"Beca?" he called. "Beca, hey, remember me?" he asked when she tilted her head and had a blank look on her face. "I helped you out with your car like a week ago," he reminded.
"Yeah," she said quickly so he'd stop talking.
He looked behind her at the person sitting across from her. "Oh, wow, Dr. Mitchell," he said recognizing the man. "Jesse Swanson," he introduced himself to the man who didn't seem to recognize him. "Makes sense that you wouldn't remember me. I graduated back in 2005… I'm the student that ended all of his essays with a movie quote," he said in an attempt to refresh the professor's memory.
"Movie guy, I remember you," Dr. Mitchell chuckled. "I always looked forward to your quotes." He shook his head in amusement. "You two know each other?" he then wondered gesturing between Beca and Jesse.
"Barely," Beca answered. "He helped me with the car when it broke down and that's it. Nothing happened after that."
"Son, come sit with us if you're here alone," Dr. Mitchell invited.
Jesse smiled at the friendly older man. "I don't want to intrude," he said.
"It's just me and my daughter." He gestured for Jesse to join them. "The more the merrier, right, Becs?" Dr. Mitchell checked with his daughter.
Jesse froze for a second: because what did his former college professor say?
"Yeah," she smiled tightly and avoided looking at Jesse when sat next to her.
Jesse cleared his throat as he tried not to think too hard about the fact that he not only had slept with Dr. Mitchell's daughter but also took her virginity.
'How old did she say she was?' he tried to remember but nothing came to mind. So, he just hoped she wasn't underage.
"Are you currently living here or just visiting?" Dr. Mitchell asked.
"I've just moved back to Barden," Jesse answered. "It's cheaper to live here that it is in Atlanta."
"Oh, what do you do?" Dr. Mitchell wondered.
"I'm a financial analyst," Jesse told him.
"Weren't an art major?" Dr. Mitchell frowned.
"Double major, Music in Film Scoring, and economics because I needed a backup career." He shrugged.
"Hear that, Bec," Dr. Mitchell said, tilting his head to look at Beca who rolled her eyes. "Music is a hobby… you should focus on getting a useful degree instead."
Jesse looked at them and frowned. "Well, I don't know if I agree with you, professor." He paused. "I had personal reasons that kept me from pursuing a career in music, it doesn't mean everyone should give up and follow a career solely because it's safer."
"Everyone is entitled to their opinion." Dr. Mitchell shrugged.
"That I agree with," Jesse quipped. "You're enrolled at BU?" he asked Beca.
"Freshman," she curtly said.
Jesse breathed a sigh of relief just then: he didn't have sex with a minor.
She was in college. A freshman. Eighteen or nineteen.
He, on the other hand, was pushing thirty.
The age gap made him feel a mix of guilt and shame.
He shouldn't feel any guilt nor shame. They're both adults.
Stop fucking overreacting. Wait... She's a teenager. FUCK!
"What is it?" Dr. Mitchell wondered when Beca's phone chimed with a text.
"It's just Drew asking if I could cover for him tomorrow at the radio station, he's sick," she answered as she typed back her reply.
"Did he catch something from that place?" Dr. Mitchell wondered.
"The radio station isn't that dirty, you know?" she deadpanned, placing her phone on the table.
Jesse wasn't blind to the tension between the father and daughter and decided to jump in.
"I interned there," he quipped. "Stacked a lot of CDs in my days," he recalled. "And no matter how much I'd stack there was always more…" he trailed off when the waitress brought Beca and Dr. Mitchell's order then took his order which was a burger and left the table again.
"Do you get to play music on the air or is it just stacking CDs?" Jesse asked as casually as he could.
"I sometimes get the station manager lunch when the other intern doesn't show up," she shrugged. "But mostly it's just stacking CDs."
"That sounds productive," he sarcastically noted.
"Tell me about," she deadpanned.
"You could have applied for an internship at the library instead," Dr. Mitchell said.
"And stack books instead of CDs?" Beca asked her old man.
"You'd get to shush people at the library," Jesse told her and smiled a little at the scowl she had on her face as he tried to calm himself down.
I did nothing wrong. She's a college student. It's not creepy.
I did nothing wrong. She's a college student. It's not creepy.
I did nothing wrong. She's a college student. It's not creepy.
I did nothing wrong. She's a college student. It's not creepy.
I did nothing wrong. She's a college student. It's not creepy.
I did nothing wrong. She's a college student. It's not creepy.
I did nothing wrong. She's a college student. It's not creepy.
I did nothing wrong. She's a college student. It's not creepy.
"It's still better than the radio station," Dr. Mitchell opinioned. "At least you'd interact with people at the library."
"Dad, I joined that A Capella group," Beca reminded in boredom. "I am interacting with people."
"You only signed up for that so I would keep my word, which I will, but I still want you to enjoy college to the fullest."
"By interning at the library?" she said in disbelief.
"All I'm saying is that you should try different things... things that aren't related to music."
"I'll see if there's an opening in the Quidditch club," she snarled. "Or you know what? I'll start my own club and call it anything but music club!"
"I did A Cappella, too," Jesse spoke before Dr. Mitchell could—he really didn't want to witness a fight. "Which group did you join?" he wondered.
"The Bellas," she answered and busied herself with her meal.
"Huh." He leaned against his seat. He remembered the Bellas: most of them were pretentious superficial assholes. "Do they still dress up like flight attendants and sing eighties jams?" he asked.
"Yeah," she sighed.
They were walking out of the diner. Dr. Mitchell was walking ahead of them heading to his car when Jesse asked, "can we talk?"
"About what?" Beca retorted.
"Well, for starters your age." He scratched his stubble, it was coming back to him: she never told him her age and he was way too turned on to resist her any longer so it was on him.
"Dude, relax. You didn't fuck a child," she spoke in boredom. "I'm eighteen. I can like vote and go to federal prison," she deadpanned.
"When's your birthday?" he questioned to which she rolled her eyes.
"I was eighteen last week, too," she sighed. "Hey, Dad, I think I'm gonna walk to my dorm," she said in a voice loud enough for her father to hear her.
"You sure you don't want a ride?" he checked.
"Yeah, I'm good."
"All right," Dr. Mitchell shrugged. "Take care of yourself, Becs." He then looked at Jesse and said, "Goodnight, Swanson."
"Goodnight," Jesse reciprocated and watched his former professor climb inside his car and drive off.
"Hey, wait," he called, realizing that Beca had walked away. She didn't stop walking so he paced after her. "So, we're not gonna talk?"
"I don't see why. But you seem like you want to, so go ahead, I'm listening," she sighed, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her jacket.
"I'm twenty-nine." He jerked his thumb towards his chest.
"Okay?" She glanced at him.
"The age gap doesn't bother you?" he questioned. "You don't find it creepy?"
"No, I don't see a problem." She shrugged. "Can you not blow it out of proportion?" She stopped walking.
He blew a breath. "I'm sorry. I respect your father so much—"
"What does this have anything to do with Dad?" She frowned.
"I've known your dad throughout college and he's a wonderful professor. And I took his eighteen-year-old daughter's virginity."
"I am my own person, Jesse," she firmly said. "What we did has nothing to do with Dad…" Her glare stopped him in his tracks: the mention of her father really pissed her off. It was a strange and quick transition from indifference to anger.
"Look, let's just forget about all this." She gestured with her hand between them. "Forget you about me." She turned on her heels and walked away, leaving him standing on the sidewalk.
He nodded to himself watched her for a few seconds then blew a breath and headed home.
Jesse was out for the night—He tried to break his routine that consisted of just going to work, stopping to buy dinner, or having dinner at his favorite diner, because cooking for one was just sad, then watching a movie or playing video games until he felt sleepy.
He knew some people in Barden but wasn't really friends with any of them. It felt weird and awkward to pick up the phone and make plans with someone he had little to no relationship with from back when he was in college so he didn't and he didn't want to hang out with his work colleagues, either, seeing them at work and outside of work was a lot, and being the new guy didn't help.
Jesse tried to go to different bars every time he went out, especially the newer ones, the ones that weren't there when he lived in Barden several years ago.
The first thing that caught his eyes once he set foot in the bar was a rainbow flag then another one and another one and another one and so on. He was at a gay bar and didn't think to check before he got in.
Gay bars were fun because the music was much better than the music at 'regular' bars, the atmosphere was just better, and they usually boosted his self-esteem when other men hit on him… but usually, he'd be there with a gay friend not all alone.
He walked right to the bar and took a seat on a stool then ordered a beer once the bartender acknowledged him.
It wasn't long before he got approached by a fellow man which was beyond flattering. Jesse, of course, made sure he didn't lead the guy on by telling him from the get go his sexual orientation, and they got into an easy conversation about the latest movie in the Marvel cinematic universe.
Being social and engaging in a conversation that he wasn't thinking of ways to end it was amazing. The alcohol buzz felt amazing and made him want to socialize even more.
"Excuse me," he excused himself and got up from his stool when he thought he saw someone familiar.
"Becaaaw," he called the five-foot-two girl at the bar waiting to order a drink, he wasn't even sure it was her. 'There's the scary ear spike, yeah it's her!' he decided. "Wait a minute," he narrowed his eyes when she tilted her head to look at him. "You shouldn't be here—" his words were muffled because she put a hand on his mouth.
"Shush, don't fuck this up for me," she told him only removing her hand when he held his hands up.
"Nice try," the bartender smiled when she showed him a fake ID.
"Fine, I'll get a diet coke," she sighed. "Thanks," she thanked the bartender once he put a glass of coke in front of her.
"Do you ever take this thing off?" Jesse asked as he rested an arm on the bar while pointing at the ear spike on her ear.
She sipped her soft drink and ignored his question.
"If you do does your ear feel lighter?" he went on to question.
"Why don't you get an ear spike and find out for yourself?" she countered while scanning the bar.
"I don't think I can pull it off." He shrugged. "It looks good on you," he complimented and followed the direction she was looking at.
"Are you here to creep on someone, Beca?" he teasingly asked.
"No," she curtly said.
"Investigate?" He grinned when she tilted her head to look at him and had a scowl on her face.
"You're really drunk right now," she noted.
"It is starting to get blurry but I still can make decisions I wouldn't regret in the morning," he said with a shrug.
"Which one is your guy?" he asked again, seeing that she was looking at a group of men.
"The lumberjack," she told him.
Jesse had to focus his vision to get a slightly better look at the buffed bearded man she was referring to—there weren't many men wearing flannels.
"Fact: people with big beards use them to hide food," he told her, tilting his head to look at her. "It's true, I swear," he promised when she rolled her eyes. "The dude my ex- cheated on me with would stuff popcorn in his beard... among other things."
"That's disgusting," she curtly said. "You personally knew him?" she hesitantly asked.
Jesse nodded. "We're all college buds: he, Hollie, and I," he told her.
"Well, he's a disgusting prick." She sipped her soft drink.
"He's actually all right." He shrugged. "When I don't think about the fact that he banged my then girlfriend." He took a huge gulp from his pint. "Who's the lumberjack?" he wondered.
"He's an audio engineer at a label in Atlanta," she told him. "I thought if I went and talked to him I'd get a shot at interning there." She blew a nervous breath.
"You wanna do what he does?" he asked.
"No, I want to actually produce the music not take care of the equipment: that's his job." She looked up.
"How many people do you think did what you plan to do?" he questioned.
"A lot." She shrugged.
"Then you shouldn't do it," he said in return.
"What do you suggest I do then?" she half-heartedly asked.
"You should go straight to the label and apply for the internship and if you're good enough you will definitely get it." He shrugged. "You don't need a middle guy. You don't wanna owe anyone anything. It really stings when they turn out to be disgusting pricks."
His bittersweet tone made her crack a smile.
His ex-girlfriend cheated on him with a close friend, also known as the disgusting prick, yet he didn't hold a grudge. 'He's a weirdo,' she decided.
"Hey, I'm sorry," he apologized.
She frowned at his out of the blue apology and was about to ask why when he said, "I'm sorry for overacting the other time. You're right. It's not a big deal. You're an adult and so am I. I shouldn't have gotten weird about it and pissed you off." He gestured at her. "I guess I freaked out because I didn't even notice your age: I wasn't by any stretch responsible. I mean, I let you smoke pot…"
"Don't worry about it," she told him. "I've smoked pot before. You didn't corrupt me. As for my age, I have been told I have an old soul which as far as I can tell is basically being boring."
"I think an old soul is someone whose understanding of the world succeeds their age and experiences," he told her then glanced up. "Lumberjack is leaving," he informed.
She looked at the man as he walked to the bar's entrance then tilted her head to look back at Jesse.
"I think what you just said sounds like a pile of shit," she resumed the conversation, deciding to not go after the audio engineer.
"So you think you're boring?" he asked, deciding not to address her decision to not proceed with her plan.
"I can be fun." She shrugged.
"Just not in the traditional sense, I'm guessing based on the tattoos inked on your skin that I'm sure were all done at a legal age."
"Oh yeah, I was definitely eighteen when I got all of them," she nodded, making him crack up at her sarcastic tone.
"You're most definitely not boring." He clicked his pint with the glass she was holding.
"So you were a Treblemaker, huh," Beca was saying as she and Jesse walked on campus grounds.
"Yep," He nodded and took a sip from his bottle of water—he stopped drinking because he didn't want to make a fool out of himself and as the night progressed started to sober up a little. "If the no sexual relations with a Treblemaker rule Bellas uphold is still a thing you technically broke it," he added.
"You're not currently a Treble, though," she shrugged. "The oath I took doesn't apply to you."
"Yeah, but does the oath specifically say 'if you hook up with a current Treblemaker then, bitch, bye-bye?" Okay, maybe he was still a little drunk because he wouldn't say that sober. "Or something that implies the guy has to be attending Barden University at the same time as you."
"No, it doesn't," she shook her head after taking a moment to recall the weird oath she took.
"Then it's settled." He shrugged, tossing the plastic bottle in the air then catching. "You broke the rule," he emphasized. "I won't snitch on you, though. So, don't worry." He looked around them. "Hey, I remember this place."
"No shit." She stopped walking when he did.
"No, this spot, I remember it." He started walking towards a tree.
"Okay," she slowly said and began following him. "You are such a cliché," she sighed when he put his phone's flashlight on the tree showing her engraved writing on it that read: J+H.
"I know," he chuckled. "I mean look at the heart," he added, gesturing at the heart engraved around the J+H.
"That's supposed to be a heart?" she questioned in surprise.
"Oh, cmon, it's not that bad," he defensively said.
"Sorry, Picasso. Didn't mean to disrespect the art," she deadpanned.
He ran his fingertips on the engraved writing and let out a sigh.
"Okay," he inhaled a deep breath and straightened up. "In what dorm your room is?" he asked—being the decent human being he was he insisted on walking Beca back to her dorm mainly because campus security made students carry rape whistles.
"Baker Hall," she told him and stepped back before they resumed walking. "The H is for Hollie?" she guessed.
"Yep." He nodded. "We've been together since sophomore year... I mean, we started dating back in sophomore year."
Beca frowned after doing the mental math, feeling really bad for him for wasting nine years in a relationship that ended badly.
"What were you doing at a gay bar?" she asked to take his mind off whatever he was thinking of. "Looking for some action?" she went on. She wasn't usually noisy but she hoped changing the subject would help out.
"No, I just went for drinks." He shrugged. "I don't swing that way."
"Going to a gay bar all alone when you're straight is a dick move," she voiced her opinion.
"Why?" he questioned.
"Gay bars and clubs are basically the one place gay people can go to and assume everyone is gay. If more straight people went there they'd have to ask if you're gay before hitting on you which defies the purpose of a gay bar," she explained.
"When you put it that way it does sound like a dick move," he admitted. "In my defense, I didn't know I was at a gay bar and it didn't seem right to just turn around and leave just because I'm at a gay bar." He shrugged. "Besides if I did leave I wouldn't have gotten to hang out with you of all people."
"I didn't think I'd ever run into you, again," she shared with him and kicked a rock.
"Barden is a small town." He opened the bottle and took a sip. "We're probably gonna run into each other again so why not do it on purpose next time?" he asked as they stopped walking having reached her dorm.
"Like go on a date?" she said in the most monotonic tone she could mustard. "No offense, but I think I can do better than an emotionally unavailable twenty-nine-year-old."
"I don't think that: I strongly believe that you can do so much better. You're smart and funny and any guy would be lucky to have you." He poked her shoulder with the bottle of water. "Let me word it differently." He paused. "I like you platonically and I wanna be friends with you." he casually said. "Would you like to be my friend?"
"Would you buy me drinks?" she asked.
He laughed then nodded. "Why not?" He shrugged. "Just drink responsibly and by that I mean don't get alcohol poisoning and die."
She rolled her eyes at his words. "There are more practical ways to end my life if I choose to take it."
"Oh yeah, like what?" he questioned.
"Pills then going to sleep, easy." She shrugged.
"Okay," he slowly said then pulled his phone from his pocket and unlocked it.
They exchanged phone numbers and said their goodnights. He felt good about clearing things up with Beca and properly apologizing and she was glad she wouldn't have to embarrass herself with a fake ID to buy liquor anymore if he kept his word.