Fat Amy, who was behind the wheel, was jamming the music playing through the speakers of the car as she carefully navigated the road, while Benji gazed out of the window and at the view. The view was sure something. It had been snowing since they left the house would continue to snow heavily.
Beca was aware of the fact that she hadn't uttered a word since they got on the road. She was glad neither Benji nor Fat Amy commented on it. It wasn't after all out of character. She had always enjoyed quietness. And, she had motion sickness which made her grumpiness on car rides excusable.
Beca was quiet for a reason. She knew that in her current mood she was easily irritable and would snarl uncalled for insults over the smallest things. She didn't want that to happen—she didn't want them to suspect anything.
She couldn't explain to them that the favor she was doing Jesse was behind her shit of a mood. Well, it wasn't the favor itself. It was the outcome of the favor. Bringing Amber to Barden closer to Jesse who she knew planned to pursue something serious with the woman.
She thought about that and other things that came with that: all the kissing, and touching, and—ugh, stop going there,' Beca scolded herself.
She'll admit she was jealous, jealous of a woman she never met. She was meeting her soon, very soon. Beca wasn't eager per se but she was curious to see what Jesse saw in Amber.
He did talk an awful lot about her despite having spent so little time with her in person—Technology helped a bunch—they kept in touch.
As soon as Fat Amy stopped the car reaching their destination, Beca sent out a text to Amber letting her know they had arrived.
It wasn't long until a woman came out of the door. She walked carefully to the car while Beca lowered the window and plastered a smile on her face.
"Hi," the woman, Amber Beca soon realized, greeted, smiling politely, and looked behind Beca briefly to wave her hand at Benji and Fat Amy. "Hello," she said to them.
"I hope you didn't have trouble getting here," she said, meeting Beca's gaze.
"No trouble at all," she replied, unlocking the door to get out.
"It's nice to finally meet you," Beca said, managing not to sound sarcastic, as she extended a hand to shake Amber's.
"I feel the same about you. Jesse's told me so much about." She wrapped her arms around herself shortly after they shook hands. Only then Beca realized that she wasn't wearing a coat, she just had a cute Christmas sweater on and a pair of jeans. And, she looked really good, effortlessly really good.
Beca wondered what could Jesse had told Amber about herself and figured she'd ask him later. She'd heard plenty about Amber but it was only because Jesse was a very close friend of hers and felt comfortable enough to tell her too much if you ask her.
He picked the habit of telling her too much after they got into a friends with benefits relationship. It was one of their "ground rules". She too told him too much too but unlike him, she stopped once they called it quits.
"Well, come on inside." It was quite early still in the morning but they had to head out early to avoid having to drive at night for too long—it was a good ten-hour drive on a good day from Ohio to Georgia, given the current challenging weather plus stops it was going to take longer.
Fat Amy had been behind the wheel for two hours and needed a break—Benji drove the first two hours from Michigan. "We can't stop for too long," Beca told her, neither accepting nor declining.
"I know," Amber agreed.
They estimated the road trip from Michigan to Georgia to take them around 16 hours. Each one of them had four hours to drive, two at a time. "Come on. You, guys, rest while I load our luggage," she gave Beca a small yet somehow bright smile as she tucked the hair that fell on her eyes behind her ear.
Beca had a hard time not openly staring at Amber. It's just that she was very pretty. She had dark brown hair that fell on her shoulders as well as brown eyes. She had the fullest and longest eyelashes Beca had ever seen on another human being.
Amber was taller than she was—everyone was—Five-five, probably. And, with her tanned skin complexion, she looked like she vacationing somewhere in Central America not visiting her sister in a snowing Midwestern state.
"Mommy, are we leaving now?" A young girl, Theresa Beca guessed, called peeking her head through the doorway.
Amber tilted her head. "Yeah. Go back inside, Tree." Beca's eyes fell briefly on Amber's defined jawline before she averted them to avoid getting caught staring. Even from a distance, Beca could tell the child looked a lot like her mother.
"Okay," Theresa replied before she glanced at Beca. "Hi," she greeted shyly.
Beca found herself waving a hand at the small girl at the door who disappeared inside the house seconds later.
Beca was drumming her fingers on the wheel to the beat of the song currently playing: the music was helping her keep her mind occupied so that it wouldn't wander.
She glanced at the passengers in the backseat: an animated conversation was taking place between Theresa and Benji—Benji was good with kids and Theresa warmed up to him quite fast.
She couldn't quite see Amber but she could hear her occasionally replying whenever Theresa asked her something. Otherwise, Amber kept to herself.
Beca almost missed the exit leading to the gas station because of all the snow. They picked a bad day for a road trip but there was no turning back, not when they were more than halfway through already.
It was really cold when she stepped out of the vehicle, Beca pulled at the sleeves of her sweatshirt as she walked around the car only tilting her head when she heard someone climb out of the car.
"Beca, wait."
"No, I got it," Beca declined, seeing that it was Amber and that she had a credit card in her hand.
She could feel Amber's eyes on her as she slid her credit card and followed the instruction.
"I don't know how much Jesse told you but you don't need to do this," Amber uneasily said as Beca removed the gas cap. "I can afford to split gas money," she added when Beca glanced up. "You don't know me and you agreed to give me and Tree a ride to Barden, it's the least I can do."
"Yeah, I'm not taking your money and it's not because I don't think you can afford it," Beca said as she selected the grade of gas. "I'm driving back to Barden with or without you. Seems unnecessary to make you pay for gas money." She shrugged. "Besides, you're hardly a stranger," she mumbled, pulling the trigger on the pump, and looked up. "You're a friend of a friend."
She had been doing great keeping her shit together, mainly by avoiding talking to Amber altogether, but she knew she had just fucked up. The tone of her voice gave her feelings away and the frown that formed on Amber's face confirmed it.
In an attempt to do damage control she added, "Jesse is a really good friend of mine and he really cares about you. What kind of friend would I be if I… take money from you?" Horrible. Horrible attempt.
"You think I'm moving to Barden for Jesse?" Amber asked in confusion.
Amber's confusion while reassuring of the fact that she was oblivious to her jealousy confused Beca.
"I'm not moving for him," Amber went on to say. "I mean I wouldn't be moving to Barden if I didn't know Jesse because I have never heard of it before meeting him but I'm not moving for him."
"Why are you moving to Barden then?" Beca wondered curiously.
Amber took a few seconds before she answered, "A fresh start," she replied. "That presentation you helped make sold me on Barden. I needed to get away from—" she cut herself off. "—I needed a fresh start."
Beca nodded slowly, hating that she knew too much about Amber. It felt like an invasion of privacy. Amber clearly didn't want her to know. She was fine pretending she didn't know.
"Jesse is a sweet guy," Amber was saying as Beca recapped the gas tank cap having finished filling the tank. "I like him. But not to the point where I move across the country for his sake."
"Does he know that?" Beca quietly asked.
"Oh yeah, of course, he does," Amber affirmed. "Would be really fucked up if I didn't clear that up."
"Yeah," Beca chuckled humorlessly.
Jesse never explicitly said Amber was moving to Barden to be with him, Beca sort of drew that conclusion by herself. Deep down she knew she did that to force herself into believing he was unavailable and that she needed to forget all about him.
Hearing from Amber that he was indeed available made things harder. Why did she have to be so messed up? Why couldn't she just tell him how she felt?
It scared her but she wanted to do it. She was very reluctant about it, however.
It was like her feelings and her issues were fighting for control: it was quite the mess: she was quite the mess.
She didn't want to be controlled by either of those things: She wanted to make reasonable decisions.
Beca knew how unlikely it was for her to make reasonable calls when it came to heart matters but since she was learning to be less cynical, she was hopeful.
It wasn't snowing when they reached Barden, but it was dark. The streets were empty. It felt like a scene out of a crappy horror movie.
The GPS told her that she was getting close to the motel where Amber and Theresa were staying. Even in the dimness, Beca recognized the area.
Pulling over, she unfastened her seatbelt then reached to shake Amber who just like everyone else in the car had fallen asleep.
"Hey, we're here," she whispered, not wanting to wake the others yet—she figured they could get some more sleep until she drove them home.
Amber sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "Already," she said in confusion. "Shit, why didn't you wake me up?" she asked, realizing that Beca let her sleep instead of waking her up to get behind the wheel.
"You seemed tired." Beca shrugged, grabbing her phone to text Jesse and let him know they made it.—she knew he was inside waiting.
She glanced at Amber when she climbed out of the car to get her things from the trunk.
Amber packed light, which at first Beca found bizarre but it later made sense. She wanted a fresh start: she didn't bring anything that reminded her of the past.
She was standing by the trunk when Jesse stepped out of the motel. He paced towards her and pulled her in a tight yet brief hug as soon as he reached her.
Beca saw their interaction and tried not to eavesdrop on the brief conversation they had, deciding to stay in the car. She looked up when Jesse knocked on the window's door and lowered it.
"Hi," he greeted then glanced behind her and at the passengers—Amber was getting her daughter out of the backseat as quietly as she could.
He frowned looking back at her. "You look exhausted," he noted, lowering his voice when he saw that the others were asleep. "I'm gonna go out on a limb here and guess you drove the most out of everyone," he mumbled next, giving her a pointed look.
"They fell asleep, I couldn't bring myself to wake anyone up," she said in response.
"Try to stretch before you go to bed," he advised. "Your back is going to hurt even more tomorrow."
"It's not that bad," she deadpanned.
"I'll check in with you tomorrow and I can't promise that I wouldn't rub the fact that I'm right in your face," he smugly said, earning an eye roll. "I guess I'll also give you a back rub while I'm at it," he added, tilting his head to look at the motel's entrance.
"Do you need help carrying the luggage inside?" Beca asked, offering to help although not really wanting to do it.
He shook his head. "It's not that much... I should get on it."
"You should," she agreed.
"Night, Becs."
"Night," she echoed and watched him turn on his heels. Her gut was telling her to call after him and pour her heart out yet she couldn't bring herself. She watched him as he disappeared into the building then shook her head and raised the window before she drove off.
The next day when she woke up, Beca felt like she had been run over by a car.
She laid on her stomach in bed and suffered in silence, deciding to do that for the day and hoping her back would hurt less by the end of the day if she made as little movement as possible.
"Amy, no," she sighed when her roommate hopped on the bed.
"Beca, yes," Fat Amy retorted, rubbing her hands together. "I watched a couple of videos on YouTube, I can do this."
"Leave me alone." She was seriously scared Fat Amy would somehow make things worse. "It's not that bad." She sat, biting back the pain the action brought. "I feel fine."
"You feel fine?" Fat Amy challenged.
"Yep." Beca nodded, yelping when Fat Amy jumped on her. "What the fuck are you doing?" she was angry yet her voice came off whiny.
"Proving a point." Fat Amy squeezed her in her arms.
"If you don't get off of me, I will fucking double cardio next time at rehearsals," Beca threatened.
"You can't even get out of bed, Beca" Fat Amy pointed out. "You sure making empty threats is in your best interest?"
Beca huffed and was about to lash out when they heard someone clear their throat.
"Hi," Jesse greeted, eyeing the two, a little puzzled by the scene. "Flo let me in, she told me you were up here," he said next. "What's going on here?" he wondered.
"I've been trying to give her a back rub and she wouldn't let me," Fat Amy recapped briefly. "Ungrateful little bitch." she sat up, letting go of her friend.
Beca glared at her. "I'd let you if you knew what you were doing."
"I told you I watched a couple of videos on YouTube," Fat Amy argued.
"I'll take over from here, Amy," Jesse chimed in. "I actually came over to see if a back rub is in order and it is."
"I'm okay, really," Beca lied again.
"She's not okay," Fat Amy called her out.
"I can see that," he smiled tightly. "And, I came prepared." He pulled a bottle of coconut oil from the pocket of his jeans.
"I'll leave you to it," Fat Amy said and stood up. She patted his shoulder, leaving the room.
"Do you need help taking off your sweatshirt?" he asked when she made no move to do so.
"No, I got it," she mumbled. "Wait," she sighed. "Turn around."
He nodded, understanding that she wasn't wearing anything underneath, and turned on his heels.
"Okay, you can turn around," she said once she was laying on her stomach.
"You never told me what you thought of your Christmas present," Jesse mentioned and pressed his finger against one of the many tensions knots he found.
"My what?" She looked up.
"You didn't see it?" He frowned. "Wow." He snorted and nodded behind him. "Explain to me how you missed that?" he wondered when she tilted her head to look at the brand new desk in the room that she somehow didn't see.
"I don't know," she mumbled, wrapping an arm around her chest before she climbed out of the bed, her back already hurting less, to go and check the studio desk.
"I figured you needed a more practical desk than the one you had, which is in the basement by the way. This one has a lot of surface space and isn't too big to take up much space in the room," he was saying as he walked over to where she stood.
"This is really cool," she said, drawing the slide-out keyboard surface where he had placed the keyboard he got her for her birthday. "I don't know what to say." A rare one for Beca, she always had something to say. "Thank you."
"I'm glad you like it. Come on, Weirdo." He threw his arm around her shoulder and turned her around with him. "I'm not done with you."
"Whoa, what are you doing?" she asked when he climbed on the bed after she laid down on her stomach.
"What do you mean?" he frowned.
"Dude, you're on top of me," she pointed out.
"Yeah?" He rested his hands on her shoulders. "Giving you a massage while sitting to your side is uncomfortable," he said with a shrug.
She tried to relax her muscles and act like having him on top of her wasn't doing anything to her and failed miserably. "This is so weird."
"This isn't weird at all. Stop trying to make it weird." She heard him say and tilted her head to glare at him.
"Okay, it's a little weird," he admitted. "Now that we got that out of the way, shut up about it and let me fix your back," he smiled at her and watched roll her eyes before she buried her face in the pillow.
"Your bitchy attitude isn't because of your back pain," he said breaking the silence they got in. "I've been around you when you were in serious pain and you weren't this bitchy," he noted. "What's wrong, Bec?"
"Nothing," she answered her voice although muffled audible.
"Is that so?" She could hear it in his voice, he didn't believe her.
"Yeah," she insisted.
He said nothing after that and carried on massaging her back in silence.
"Mom is having a baby." She knew why he was quiet, he was waiting for her to tell him what was bothering her but she wasn't falling for it.
"Wow," he stretched the word.
"Yep."
"Congrats," he said next and she realized that she never congratulated her mother.
"Thanks."
"This is what's pissing you off?" he asked doubtfully as he climbed out of the bed having finished.
"Well, no, because nothing is pissing me off." She sat up and wrapped her arms around herself.
He handed her the sweatshirt she had on earlier. "Amber doesn't even know you and she could tell that something was bothering you the entire time she was with you." He eyed Amy's corner of the room, as she got dressed.
"She told you that?" She frowned, pulling the sweatshirt over her head.
"Well, no. She just told me you're really quiet."
Beca remembered that she was meaning to ask Jesse what he had told Amber about her then decided not to. She knew he'd notice what the mention of Amber did to her and possibly link it to her bitchy attitude as he called it.
"That doesn't mean anything." She sat Indian style and put on her best poker face yet.
"I won't try to make you talk but I'm here if you change your mind and wanna talk." He sighed before tilting his head. "Stop looking me like that." He chuckled humorlessly.
"Like what?" she questioned.
"Like you're trying to figure out my tactic to get you to open up," he answered.
"I'm not—" she was.
She could tell he knew she just lied to his face and it made her feel like shit. She wanted to open up. It just seemed easier in theory. She couldn't bring herself to let him know that her inability to tell him how she felt about him frustrated her to no end hence the bitchy attitude.
"Look, I'm here to hang out."
"I thought you said you're here to fix what driving for hours did to my back and also rub being right about it in my face, which you haven't done yet by the way."
"Well, that's part of hanging out," he explained. "We still have to do each other's hair, get drunk on champagne, and rate puppies."
"I'm not sure how I feel about letting you anywhere near my hair." She had a hard time maintaining her poker face when he was doing his impression of a valley girl.
"Oh, feel free to ask Sarah about my mad skills. I helped her dye her hair in a shady restroom in Nevada: it didn't look half as bad. I have pictures to prove it." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone to show her.
"Why would your sister even do that?" she wondered. "Dye her hair in a shady restroom, not ask for assistance," she clarified accepting his phone when he handed it to her.
"She claimed people were confusing us for a couple," he sighed. "So, she decided that going brunette would help highlight the features we share and couldn't wait until we found some hair salon."
"Did it work?" Beca asked, looking up from the very unflattering picture Jesse showed her of his elder sister while she ate a burger—she knew he kept it for blackmail.
"Yeah." He nodded. "I mean I got her a rainbow bracelet and cap at a store later the same day. But if Sarah asks, yeah it's definitely the hair change that made people stop assuming we're together," he deadpanned.
"Well, I don't plan to dye my hair but I'll let you know if I ever change my mind." She handed him his phone back.
"I know how to braid hair, too. Growing up, Sarah used to pay to braid her hair," he stated. "I'll do yours for free, though."
She rolled her eyes. "Thank you."
"Of course," he smiled.
"I'll go get us snacks," she figured, getting up. "I don't think we have any champagne, though."
"Cheap beer is fine," he said with a shrug.
"I'd say make yourself at home but you seem to act like you live here," she mumbled, stretching.
"I'm adding cleaning your room to the list of hanging out activities," he told her as she looked for socks in a pile of clothes laying on the floor. "I was afraid a rat would come out when I was moving the desk." He managed to dodge the combat boot she threw at him but didn't see the second one coming.
"This one is a good boy."
"You said that about the last one and the one before it," Beca deadpanned.
"They're all good boys," he argued.
"This is so dumb." She shook her head.
"Yeah, we can't rate puppies, they're equally exquisite good boys," he agreed. "Keep your head still, Bec."
She let him braid her hair after a few beers— His persistence got less annoying the more drinks she consumed.
"This is taking too long," she complained.
"Yeah, well, perfection takes time," he countered, bending to eat the Doritos chip she pulled from the bag.
She sighed and let him have the chip: he couldn't exactly get any himself since he was doing her hair and she most certainly didn't want her hair to smell like Doritos.
Five minutes later, he was done. "What do you think?" he asked, bringing a beer to his lips, while Beca checked his work in the mirror on the wall.
"Not bad, Swanson." She was impressed. "What's this kind of braid called?" she wondered.
"The Swanson," he said with a shrug. "It's my own creation."
"I hate to blow your bubble, buddy, but I have seen this before," she told him.
"Nah, you just saw something similar," he told her, confidently. "Besides, who's the braids expert here?" he asked while pointing at himself. "Me."
"You're so full of yourself," she mumbled, shaking her head.
"You're just jealous of my talented hands." He wiggled his fingers. "I can do so much with these." He sighed happily, eyeing his own hands.
"Are you seriously bragging right now?" She shouldn't be surprised, it was Jesse, a tipsy Jesse that is.
"Rightfully so," he wasn't going to deny it. "Want me to show you how to do a Swanson."
"Didn't you already teach me that?" she snorted, walking to where she left her beer and picking up.
It took him a few seconds before he got what she meant. "Good one," he chuckled. "I taught you a lot, haven't I?" he realized. "I mean credit when credit is due: you, my friend, are a fast learner." He paused. "I'm so proud of both of us."
"You're unbelievable." She shook her head, again. "Stop bragging."
"So, want me to show you how to braid hair like that or not?" he asked, leaning against the headboard and moving his legs so she could sit at the end of the bed then tossing her a pillow to put between her back and the wall.
"Well, yeah, but don't we need someone to braid their hair?" she pointed out, adjusting the pillow.
"Who's home? We can ask one of the girls to volunteer."
"Volunteer for what?" Stacie, who was walking in the hall, asked overhearing Jesse.
"Jesse wants to teach me how to braid hair and we need someone's head to do that," Beca elaborated.
"I was hoping you were gonna say threesome," Stacie said with a sigh, leaning against the doorway.
"She's not kidding," Beca said when Jesse chuckled.
"Nope," Stacie quipped. "I'd love to do that but I'm actually headed out… got an adult sleepover to attend." She paused for a second. "The invite said I can bring people with me. You know, the more the merrier," she told him.
"That sounds exhausting. I'm gonna pass," Beca declined.
"It wouldn't be that exhausting actually," Jesse disagreed. "I don't even know where all the energy comes from when you're so tiny and the only form of sports you do is cardio which you barely do any of yet complain so much about—why are you looking at me like that?" Beca was glaring daggers at him.
"I knew you're sex-enthusiast!" Stacie beamed. "Hold on." She arched an eyebrow, straightening up. "How would you know, Jesse?"
"Uh, we talk about our sexual conquests all the time," Jesse finally said, getting why Beca looked like she was ready to murder him.
He said something he shouldn't have said.
"Sure," Stacie chuckled before she glanced at the time. "I'm running late. You two sure don't wanna tag along?"
"Nope," Beca said while Jesse just shook his head. "Nice job, dickhead." She kicked him in the shin once Stacie left the room.
"I didn't know you were keeping it a secret," he argued and received a pillow in the face.
"Doesn't mean I want anyone to know," she said in annoyance, chugging down beer.
"Sorry," he apologized and tossed the pillow she hit him with on her lap—she still needed it. "I'm not sorry for what I said though," he cleared up. "I really think you're wrong about an orgy being exhausting. You can pull it off." He shrugged.
"I think we should talk about something else," she replied, reaching for her backpack to look for her charger.
"Alright," he mumbled, stuffing his mouth with chips, and watched her empty the content of her backpack on the bed. "Hey, can I ask you a question?"
"Sure." He was going to ask her anyway, she knew it was rhetorical.
"Why do you keep a Polaroid camera?" He sat up to look grab the few photos on were in her backpack. "It's so unpractical. You can't check if the picture is good or not, you're stuck with it."
"That's exactly why I prefer them to digital cameras," she answered and climbed out of bed to plug the charger to an outlet and charge her phone. "When you take a picture with a digital camera you often end up taking a dozen more because the lightning wasn't right or it didn't flatter you. The moment you're trying to capture loses the spontaneous feel to it when you spend so much time trying to get it right," she explained.
"Deep," Jesse mumbled, eyeing the photos she took during Christmas.
"Hey, you asked." She shrugged, thinking he was mocking her.
"No seriously, that's deep," he said, taking her camera and bringing closer to his face. "I think I'm gonna go buy a Polaroid camera and carry it around from now on." He saw what she meant when he looked at the picture he took of her when she stood in front of the mirror to look at the braid once more.
"You look cute with your hair like that," he complimented, holding the photo for her to see it.
"Go ahead and pat yourself on the shoulder, I know you're itching to do that," she deadpanned. "Stop wasting the film, it's pretty expensive," she said when he took another picture.
She wouldn't really mind if she wasn't the subject of the second photo as well.
He ignored her. "We're taking a pretentious hipster type of picture. Do you have a flannel shirt?" He walked over to where she was standing in front of the mirror.
"Keep that scowl on your face, it's cute. Just look in the mirror." He nudged her.
She rolled her eyes, deciding to humor him.
"Yeah, I'm definitely getting a Polaroid camera," he decided while eyeing the photo he took. "It doesn't even look pretentious," he said when Beca peeked her head to take look at it.
"Should have gotten you to wear a flannel," he sighed.
"We're not taking more," she firmly said.
"I know. "The moment you're trying to capture loses the spontaneous feel to it"," he said, quoting her, and brought the camera to his face. "I'm a quick learner, too."
"Dude, stop." She tried to take it from him.
"I can't help it, you're very photogenic, Becs," he said with a shrug successfully taking a picture—it was a little blurry but that was totally a creative choice if anyone asked. "Or I might be really good at photography and never realized it," he added.
"You're getting a free photo shoot from yours truly, you should be ecstatic." He tapped her nose.
"That film you're wasting costs money," she reminded.
"I'll get you a year supply of film tomorrow if you stop bitching and let me enjoy my new passion," he said in mock annoyance and didn't miss the small twitch on her lips.
She couldn't stay mad at him even if she tried.
"Perfect," he murmured in his best photographer-like voice, snapping yet another one when she flipped him off while rolling her eyes.
"Why am I even friends with you?"
"Uh, that would because you love me," he answered as he shook the newest picture he took.
"No, I don't," she was quick to deny it.
"Yes, you do. You told me. I mean your fever was crazy high but I know you meant it." He looked up. "Don't worry, I said it back," he assured her.
'Fever? How romantic... Fuck.' Her heart felt like it was going to explode. She knew he couldn't tell because she was really good at maintaining a poker face.
She tried to wrap her mind around what he was saying and how he was saying it. Too casual. It didn't take her long before she figured it out.
It really hurt to know that his feelings were platonic. He wouldn't have assumed she meant it in a platonic way when she told him she loved if he didn't feel that way about her.
While it felt like someone stabbed her in the heart, she was glad she found out this way. It could have been worse. She could have embarrassed herself and ruined their friendship because there was no way they'd still be friends if he knew how she really felt about him.
The sound of the camera snapped her out of her thoughts: he had just taken another picture of her.
"I'm gonna keep copies of these. You can have the originals," he told her as he made his way to her desk to put the photos as well as the camera.
"Where's your laptop?" he asked, her room was too much of mess. "Found it," he said spotting it.
"Seriously, Beca, you need to clean your room," he sighed, starting the laptop and grabbing the cable connected the scanner to plug it into the laptop before he sat down. "I get the order in chaos theory but this is just chaos."
"You sound just like Dad," she grumbled, walking to where he sat and taking the pictures he planned to scan to look at them.
"Yeah, well, he has a point." He drew the keyboard slide-out surface. "I know I said I'd help out, and here's how." He cleared his throat, placing his fingers on the keyboard.
When he started playing and singing Happy Working Song from Enchanted, she couldn't help the laugh that escaped.
She grabbed the camera and took a decent picture of him while he performed—unlike him, she knew a thing or two about photography but she wouldn't call photography her passion, though.
Her heart was breaking and she knew it was her fault: she waited too long.
And while it was awful, it sucked less when the reason she wanted to cry was singing a Disney song on top of his lungs to motivate her into cleaning her room.