AN: one of the reasons behind me taking this long to update is the fact that I wanted to make shit happen faster because I realized the pacing wouldn't be right if I stick to the og plan. I want the story to move at a reasonable pace and I don't want to mess with the what I have originally planned. Took me a while but I figured it out and here it is. :)
I hope you enjoy this long chapter. Let me know what you think.
Disclaimer: I do not endorse the use of illegal drugs (or anything illegal really.) I'm actually so square it annoys everyone in my life.
"Why is it that you're always the one doing this?" Jesse wondered as he watched Beca tiptoe to grab a cereal box. "Oh, wait, I know why," he figured, stuffing his hands in his pockets while Beca eyed what was next on the list that she and the girls put together of grocery they needed for the next two weeks. "You're the captain. You naturally assume leadership in everything. And, you like being in control."
"Are you saying I'm a control freak?" Beca looked up from the list to look at Jesse who was peeking to see what was next on the list.
"I'm saying you're the alpha," he explained. "The girls expect you to take charge and they follow your lead."
"I doubt this has anything to do with leadership." She resumed pushing the cart, heading to a different aisle. "They just sleep in on Saturday morning like regular people." She, on the other hand, had to shit to do and could squeeze in grocery shopping.
Their last stop was in the liquor aisle which was the main reason Jesse tagged along: he was buying Beca liquor because she still couldn't do it—Stacie was turning 21 in a couple of weeks so it's probably the last time he went grocery shopping with her.
"We should go get milkshakes once we're done here," Jesse was saying as he picked a bottle of wine for himself while Beca got a beer pack.
"Milkshakes?" she echoed, scratching her temple as she eyed red wine options unsure which one to get—beer was easy, the girls thankfully collectively agreed on a brand they all liked.
"Yep." He placed the bottle in the cart. "Need help?"
"Which one of these isn't too sweet and also cheap?" she wondered, motioning vaguely at different brands of red wine.
"When did you become a wine person?" he asked as he looked for something that met her description—he didn't see wine on the list so he assumed it was for her.
"It's great with dinner." Over winter break, while at her grandmother's, she developed a habit of having a glass while dining.
"It really is," he agreed. "While on the road, Sarah and I found this Italian restaurant that made its own wine: best wine I ever had!" he recounted. "I mean the food was pretty good, but, man, was the wine amazing." Jesse placed the bottle of wine he picked for her in the cart. "I'll take you there someday…but for now I'm taking you to the closest diner to get milkshakes."
"Why milkshakes?" she asked as they made their way to the cashier.
"The better question would be why not milkshakes?"
They loaded the grocery in her car and walked to the diner, Jesse telling Beca more about the Italian restaurant while she half-listened like she always did when Jesse got too worked up about something.—Usually it was a movie that 'she had to see.'— She knew he was just sharing his interests with her, which was fine, but it would great if he could just spare her the details sometimes.
"You know him?" Jesse asked, looking up from his menu and seeing that Beca was gazing at a guy sitting two booths away from them.
"Yep," she answered and grabbed the menu.
"Well, who is he?" he wondered.
"Pete," she answered curtly, still gazing at the menu.
Jesse looked back at Pete and frowned once got a good look at him. "He does not look happy."
Beca glanced at Pete who had the palm of his hand against his cheek while looking down at the table. And, yeah, he seemed pretty unhappy.
"I think you should go see what's up with him," Jesse said next.
"And why would I do that?" she asked in response.
"You're friends—"
"—not really."
"Beca, he's at a diner all by himself," he stated. "No one would be at a diner by themselves if they can help it."
"I would."
"If you're not going to go see if he's okay I will," Jesse said with a shrug.
"Fine," she mumbled, rolling her eyes, and got up.
"Invite him to sit with us if he's not waiting for someone." She heard him say as she began to walk away.
Pete didn't seem to notice her when she stood in front him so she cleared her throat.
He looked up.
"Uh, hi," she greeted and watched him sit up.
"Beca, hey," he said, sounding surprised. "Great seeing you outside of the radio station." He tried to smile but it was a weak attempt on his part.
"You, too," she replied. "I'm here with a friend and figured I'd come to say hi when I saw you," she added, gesturing at Jesse.
Pete nodded and glanced at Jesse who waved at him the moment their eyes met.
"Nice running into you," she said when he shifted his gaze to her.
"You, too," he smiled and watched her walk back to her table.
"Is he okay?" Jesse questioned the moment she sat down.
"He seems fine."
"No, he doesn't," Jesse countered. "Okay, look at him. You can practically hear the sad music that would go with his expression."
"You know it's weird when you do that, right?" she checked. "Makes you seem like you're out of touch with reality and like delusional or something. Life isn't a movie."
"Just look at him," he urged. "I can hear it." He paused briefly. "Hello, darkness my old friend. I've come to talk with you again," he began to sing under his breath to which she rolled her eyes. "Because a vision softly creeping. Left its seeds while I was sleeping. And the vision that was planted in my brain still remains within the sound of silence…"
"You're ridiculous," she noted when he looked at her expectantly. Why couldn't she see how well the music fit with the scene was beyond him. She was ridiculous.
"I'm gonna ask if he wants to sit with us," he let her know.
She knew better than to object when Jesse was being his overbearing self.
"Hey, man," he called from his spot, gaining Pete's attention who had been staring out of the window. "Wanna come sit with us?" he wondered. "You're here alone, right?" he checked when Pete gave no answer.
"Er-yeah, I'm alone," he said with a nod.
"Pete, you don't have to if you'd like to be by yourself," Beca chimed in.
"But you're very welcome to sit with us," Jesse quipped.
Beca could tell Pete was weirded out by the two of them. She would be too, they must have confused him with their very different tones, she was sure she sounded bored and Jesse was Jesse!
"Okay," he accepted Jesse's invitation at last and got up. "Thanks," he smiled curtly as he slid into the booth beside Beca.
"I'm Jesse," Jesse said, introducing himself, and extended a hand towards Pete to who took it.
"Yeah, I know who you are... we met at Beca's surprise birthday party," Pete was saying as they shook hands. "Not surprised you don't remember, we barely spoke," he added.
"No, I remember you," Jesse mumbled— he didn't actually remember until Pete mentioned it, his memory from that night revolved around Beca.
"You got Becs that cool mug," he snapped his fingers, recalling the Darth Vader mug that he wanted to purchase himself.
"Yep," Pete nodded.
"Where did you get it from? I've looked online and couldn't find that one." The design was really good, he really wanted one for himself and one for Benji.
"Uh, this store just outside of campus," Pete informed. "Sells all sorts of movie-related stuff."
"I now have to visit it," Jesse decided.
"Try not to buy everything you find in there," Beca said knowingly. She lost count of the framed movie posters he had AND the entire bookcase dedicated to action figures. He was a thirty-year-old man-child with a lot of money in his bank account.
"I can't promise that I won't," he said with a shrug, tilting his head when a waiter approached them to take their order.
He and Beca got milkshakes while Pete ordered a smoothie.
"You always come here?" Jesse casually asked as the waiter left their booth.
"Nope." Pete shook his head. "First time…" he trailed off, sighing.
"You alright, man?" Jesse asked.
"Yeah," Pete nodded. "I mean my date stood me out and couldn't bother to just text me that she wasn't coming and I'm pretty sure my parents are getting a divorce but I'm fine," he blurted out.
Beca and Jesse shared a look, surprised by what he just dropped on them. "Sorry," he chuckled humorlessly, noting their reactions that were similar.
"For what?" Beca was the one that asked while she resisted the urge to roll her eyes when Jesse gave her a look that said, 'I told you he wasn't fine.'
"Oversharing," he mumbled.
"No, please, let all out, man," Jesse encouraged. "You'll feel much better if you just talked about what's upsetting you," he advised. "We're both experts at listening," he gestured at himself and at Beca who nodded.
"I'm not upset that I got stood out," he began to say. "It's just that every time I get turned down every single time I asked a girl out. At this point, I'm pretty sure something is wrong with me... I guess I'm not likable," he mumbled sounding defeated.
"Don't say that. I'm sure you're likable alright," Jesse spoke confidently as if he knew Pete. "Rejection sucks but doesn't mean something is wrong with you."
"Yeah, dude, don't go there," Beca said, agreeing with Jesse. "Nothing is wrong with you." She had rejected him but it wasn't for the reason he cited.
"I wish they were all as straightforward as you were," he mumbled, meeting her gaze.
Beca could see Jesse raise his eyebrows despite the fact that she was looking at Pete.
"You said something about your parents?" she said, trying to change the subject because she really didn't want to get into it.
She never told Jesse that Pete asked her out and that she turned him down. She didn't want to get into the reasons behind why she said no to Pete and knew Jesse would ask. She also didn't want to lie to his face anymore.
He could tell when she lied to him: she could tell it hurt him whenever she did so she avoided subjects where she'd have to lie to him.
"Yeah." He looked down at the table. "While that sucks but it's okay if they got a divorce." He shrugged. "I just feel bad for my brother, he's six," he shared. "He called me 'cause he heard them fighting and was scared."
She reached over hesitantly and rubbed his arm, feeling Jesse's eye on her and willing herself not to look at him. She knew her action wasn't very Beca Mitchell and she held him responsible for it. He was the reason she stopped minding hugs and whatnot. Ugh. She used to be so stoic.
"When did he call?" Jesse questioned quietly.
"Er-last night," Pete informed.
"Where do you live, Pete," Jesse asked next.
Pete looked up and had a frown on his face. "New Orleans," he informed. "Why?"
"I think you should hop on the first bus there and go see your bother, you won't feel better until you do," Jesse confidently said. "You're worried about him and speaking over the phone won't cut it."
Pete considered it then shook his head. "I can't."
"Why?" It was Jesse's turn to frown.
"Long bus ride, not a lot of time," he replied, scratching his head. "I'd have to miss classes on Monday which I really can't do."
Jesse looked at Beca and the look he gave her spoke volumes to her.
She shook her head.
Damn his puppy eyes that bored into her soul.
'Resist it, Mitchell.'
She felt bad for Pete and his brother but it wasn't enough to drive to freaking New Orleans.
"Jesse, I'm not gonna do it," she said once Pete got inside the grocery store, leaving her alone with Jesse who was trying to make her feel bad with the looks he was giving her—she offered to give Pete a ride to campus, he accepted. Seeing that she parked her car near a grocery store, Pete figured he could get some of the stuff he ran out of.
"If it's about gas, I'll be happy to pay for it."
"It's not about gas money, Jesse."
"Then what is it? By car, it's barely a six-hour drive. If you leave now, you'll get there by three pm, Becs."
She looked away from him because he was giving her his signature puppy eyes.
"I'd drive him myself but it'll be weird I offered. I just met the guy." He shrugged.
"And, it wouldn't be weird if I offered?" she asked, tilting her head to look at him.
"Nope… why didn't you tell me that he asked you out and that you turned him down?"
"It's none of your business," she deadpanned.
"We're best friends, of course, it's my business."
She rolled her eyes.
"You let me braid your hair, Beca," he was saying as she pulled her car keys from her pocket and unlocked the car when Pete stepped out of the grocery store. "We're that kind of best friends."
"Don't you have a lunch date to get to?"
"Wow, a passive-aggressive version of fuck off. When did you get so civil?" Jesse said in amusement and walked around the car to open the trunk to get the wine bottle he bought. "Also, is it really a date when Theresa is around?" he asked, closing the trunk. "Come to think of it, Amber and I never really went on a date," he chuckled.
"Then ask her out on a date, idiot," she said in response.
Amber.
She really wanted to hate her but couldn't.
She couldn't blame her for heartache.
It was all her and she was dealing with the outcome of her actions, or lack of.
She couldn't muster the courage to tell Jesse how she felt.
Jesse and Amber started dating and from what he told her, which was, as usual, a lot, it was pretty casual and easy. She was happy for him. Happy that he was seeing someone who was as easygoing as Amber. She had her fair share of baggage but projected none of it on Jesse.
"Text me, weirdo," Jesse said, standing by the car, while Beca buckled seatbelt, shaking his head at the dirty look she gave him. It was great to have a friend who could read between the lines with whom he could have cryptic conversations.
She knew he wanted her to text him once they made it to New Orleans.
He looked behind her and at Pete who had just climbed in the passenger seat. "You'll have bad times, but it'll wake you up to the good ones you weren't paying attention to," he smiled curtly at Pete who nodded in response.
"Good Will Hunting," he said, recognizing the movie Jesse quoted.
"Yep," Jesse nodded, approving of Pete, and then looked back at Beca. "Drive safe, Becs" he smiled at her.
She rolled her eyes, flipping him off subtly, and pulled out of the parking lot.
"Great guy," Pete mumbled.
"Totally."
Another thing that being around Jesse changed was her selfishness, she will admit: she was quite selfish and rarely did anything that didn't directly benefit her somehow before meeting him.
The Bellas were also responsible, too, but with them, the selflessness came differently. They were her team: you can't be part of the team and lead the team if you only thought about yourself.
Jesse rubbed off some of his traits onto her: she couldn't complain because they were decent traits and made her a better person.
So, yeah, he was the one Pete should be thanking and not her when she offered to drive him to New Orleans by the time they made it to campus.
"I'm sure you'd do the same if you were in my place," she said and glanced at the time. "I have to drop the grocery at the house, I'll come to pick you up in half an hour," she told him. "Cool?"
"Okay, yeah, perfect. Half an hour," he said, nodding his head. "Thank you."
Having done a far longer road trip under a harsher weather, the trip to New Orleans was quite easy. They packed some snacks and hit the road, each driving three hours.
Climbing out of the car, Beca did stretches to avoid waking up with a fucked up back while Pete walked up to the front door.
His brother got the door and she saw exactly why it was a great idea to drive all the way there when the brothers hugged.
Looking at them, she wondered if she'd have a close relationship with her sibling. 20 years' one hell of an age difference. She decided that she was going to pull the effort and be the best big sister her baby brother or sister could have.
She watched the six-year-old wipe his eyes with the back of his sleeve before he and his older brother walked up to her.
"Beca meet Dan, my brother." He smiled down at his brother, his smile reaching his sad eyes. "Dan this is my friend Beca."
"Nice to meet you, Beca," the little kid said, his adorable lisp making Beca crack a smile.
"Nice to meet you, too, Dan."
"Danny, who are you talking to?" They heard a female voice call and titled their heads.
A teenager was at the door. "Pete, hey," she said in confusion.
"Hey, Izzy," Pete greeted. "Beca, this is our neighbor Izzy, she's babysitting Dan. Iz, this is Beca, my friend," he said, rubbing his brother's arm.
"Nice meeting you," Izzy politely smiled at Beca who returned the smile.
"Uh, Izzy, you can go home," he told her.
She nodded slowly. "'Kay." The girl was very puzzled by the fact that Pete was home from college but she kept to herself.
He pulled out his wallet and drew a few bills handing them to Izzy before she left.
"Come on, let's get you a coat," Pete smiled down at his brother.
It was sunny but the air was still cold despite it being February and February in Louisiana wasn't that cold.
"Where are we going?" Dan asked the question that was on Beca's mind.
"We need to show Beca around, Dan," Pete elaborated.
They weren't there so that Beca could explore New Orleans but and she knew why Pete said what he said. His brother was upset and playing tourist with her would take his mind off what was going on at home.
Pete left a note on the fridge for his parents in case they got home before they did and headed out to find Beca leaning against her car. "Ready to go?" she asked spotting him.
"Yeah," he nodded and opened the backseat door for Dan to get in.
Hanging out with the brothers wasn't so bad. They parked the car in a parking lot and walked around City Park, heading towards the playground there. It was clear how much Dan looked up to his older brother and how much he needed him. She definitely didn't regret driving all the way to New Orleans because it really was a great idea.
Given the fact that he spent most of his day playing in playground Dan was out like a light by the time they reached their house.
Pete held his brother in his arms and he and Beca made as little noise as they could as they walked towards the house.
"Hi, mom," Pete smiled his mother when she got the door, his voice low to avoid waking his brother up.
"Hey," she mumbled in an equally low voice before she stepped closer to him and placed a kiss on his forehead while she rubbed his arm.
"Uh, mom, this is Beca," Pete nodded at Beca who was standing next to him, introducing her. "A friend of mine."
"Pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Murphy," Beca politely greeted.
"You, too, Beca." Mrs. Murphy said stepping back. "Come on in," she murmured, taking Dan from Pete and pecking his temple once his head was against her shoulder.
"Where's dad?" Pete asked, glancing around them.
"He left," she curtly answered to which he frowned.
"What do you mean he left?"
"Last night, he packed his things and left," she sighed. "Lemme just put your brother to bed first then we'll talk."
"Okay," he nodded his head, doing an OK job at hiding how angry he was at his father.
Maybe because she spent a good chunk of her life angry with her father, Beca could see right through him.
"Guess we're spending the night here, huh?" Beca figured, holding her jacket in her hand once she took it off, and followed Pete further inside the house.
"No, I just have to talk to mom for a bit then we'll head out," Pete said in response.
"Seriously, dude, it's fine if we spent the night here." She shrugged. "Take your time with your mom. Besides, you can't leave without biding Dan farewell."
He smiled in spite of himself. "Thank you."
"Sure, man." She glanced at the staircase hearing footsteps. "Um, where's the bathroom?"
Pete pointed at the bathroom and watched her make her way to it.
"She's cute." She heared his mother say. "Your friend, huh?"
"Yeah, my friend, also my boss at the radio station," Pete was saying as she closed the bathroom door behind her.
What she appreciated the most about Pete was the fact that once he knew that she didn't feel the same about him he didn't try to change her mind or act like an asshole for rejecting him.
"I hope these fit you," Pete was saying as he handed her a t-shirt of his as well as a pair of boxer shorts.
"They'll fit. Thank you," she said accepting them. "And, thank you for letting me have your room," she added.
"Least I can do is let you have my room." He grabbed something to sleep in himself. "Good night, Beca," he said before leaving his bedroom.
"Good night," she echoed and watched him close the door behind him.
She tossed the clothes he handed her on the bed and started to undress before she changed into them.
She heard her phone chime with a text when she was pulling Pete's t-shirt over her head and walked over to where she left it, the pocket of her jack that she threw on the chair.
The text was from her mother, she smiled eyeing the attachment which was an ultrasound before she scrolled down to read what her mother texted next: 'it's a girl.'
"Thanks," Beca said accepting the bag Pete handed her.
"You welcome, Boss," he smiled before he stepped back.
She looked inside the bag and breathed in the delicious smell of her lunch. She wouldn't have asked Pete to get her lunch if he wasn't going out to buy lunch for himself and she was so busy with work.
"Hey, Pete," she called, looking up.
"Yeah?" He sat down and pulled his chair closer to the desk, placing his own lunch on it.
"You free this weekend?" she asked.
"Uh, yeah," he answered. "Why? Need me to fill in on the weekend?" he guessed.
"No, no." She usually put a lengthy playlist to play over the weekend so that no one had to give up their free time. "My friend's birthday is this weekend and she's throwing a 70s themed party if you wanna come."
Ever since they got back from New Orleans, Pete was a little depressing to be around. She wasn't around him that much but she didn't see him dancing to the beat as he stacked CDs like he used—she played music she knew he liked when she started to notice how he'd been acting and seeing that he didn't even nod to the music was enough for her.
She understood why he was feeling low: his family was falling apart, which was a travesty, but it wasn't the end of the world and he had to keep on living hence the invite.
"Do I have to dress up?" he asked.
"Yep," she nodded.
"Okay," he said, figuring he'd have to buy something to wear to the party. "I'll drop by, thanks," he said, accepting the invitation.
"Cool." She watched him pull his burger from the bag and frowned. "Changed your mind about what you're having for lunch?" she asked.
"Huh?"
"You said you're getting a burrito," she reminded.
"Er-yeah," he nodded to which she rolled her eyes.
"You just said that so I'd let you buy me lunch?" The closest Taco Bell wasn't that close to campus, she wouldn't have agreed to let him buy her lunch if he didn't tell her he was getting something from Taco Bell for himself.
"Not a big fan of Mexican food," he admitted, her glare would get him to admit to a murder.
Not that she didn't appreciate it, because she did, but he didn't have to do that for her.
"But I don't mind getting it for you," he added.
"Thank you, Pete," she said, stepping back inside the booth.
Jesse never thought he'd go to college party once he graduated but here he was almost 9 years later at the doorstep of the Bellas' house where a party was taking place—it was a birthday party but it was still a college party.
The theme was the main reason he decided to go. He wanted to see what they'd done with the place because Beca complained enough about how seriously the girls took decoration. She helped them but she complained the whole time— it wouldn't be Beca if she didn't bitch while doing something.
However, he planned to give Stacie her present, wish her a happy birthday and head out.
He nodded along to the current song playing, Already Gone by Eagles, as he made his way into the house. The girl did a great job: the place really looked very 70s.
Jesse looked around for familiar faces and quickly found them. He grinned once his eyes fell on Beca who shouting over the loud music the chorus of the song with Benji.
He began walking to them but stopped when he spotted Stacie. "Happy Birthday," he shouted over the music before he handed her the present he got for her. "This is great." He gestured around him.
"Thanks," she said, accepting it, in an equally loud voice.
"Drinks are over there, help yourself out," she told him, nodding at the refreshment table.
He smiled and watched her walk away then turned on his heels feeling a tap on his shoulder: it was none other than Beca Mitchell.
"You came," she said, sounding surprised.
"Yeah." He took her hand and spun her around to get a full look of what she was wearing. "You look like you're on your way to Woodstock," he told her.
"That's because I'm recreating a look," she told him and took a sip from the red solo cup she was holding.
"From Woodstock?" he frowned.
She nodded, stuffing her hand in her back pocket and pulling her cellphone.
She kind of looked like the woman in the picture she showed him. Her mother was born in the 70s and the original Woodstock festival happened in '69. "Your grandmother?" he guessed.
"Yup!"
"Nice." He looked at Beca then at the picture on the phone. She was pulling the look off quite well: headband around her forehead, a shirt that he could only describe as hippie tucked into a pair of denim shorts.
Looking back at Beca, he watched her close her eyes and inhale deeply.
"You okay?" he asked in puzzlement.
She nodded, her lips twitching upwards before she opened her eyes. "I'm okay." She chugged what was left of her drink before she placed it on the floor. "Let's dance," she said, taking his hand and dragging him to the dance floor. The Beca he knew wouldn't dance unless she was in competition or had a few drinks and loosened up which made him wonder how much she had to drink when it was only 9 pm.
"You put the playlist together?" he checked as they danced the groovy tone of Hot Chocolate titled Every 1's a Winner.
"Yeah," she answered. "Who else takes care of that 'round here?"
"You're giving it to me later," he told her.
"Okay, now shut up and dance, nerd."
He obliged.
True, he originally planned to leave early but his plans changed. He decided to extend his stay but only after he promised himself he wouldn't let himself get drunk.
Beca left to get a drink for herself and asked if he wanted something and he settled for a beer.
"Punch?" he asked, peeking into her cup after she handed him his beer.
She shook her head. "Sports drink."
He watched her take a sip before he held her chin up to get a better look at her, how did he miss how large her pupils were? "Molly?" Jesse guessed.
Ecstasy's worst dangers were dehydration and heatstroke and sports drink contained an awful lot of electrolyte ei what her body needed to minimize the short term, yet fatal if not taken seriously, damage of the drug.
"Yep," she nodded. "I'm tripping balls but I'm being careful so don't worry," she told him, noting the frown that formed on his forehead. "A couple of glasses of this." She pointed at the cup in her hand. "Every hour and I set my phone to remind me." She showed him the hourly reminders she had set up on her phone.
He nodded slowly and watched her drown the drink.
"Fucks sake, Amy!" she exclaimed when Fat Amy bumped into her and spilled the drink she had in hand on her shirt.
Fat Amy didn't bother to apologize, she just patted Beca's shoulder and moved passed her.
Jesse always found the scowl on her face cute and this time was no different. "Just change your shirt," he told her. "The stain is no biggie. Just some detergent and it'll be gone."
She sighed and turned on her heels. He found himself following her.
Reaching her bedroom, he leaned against the doorway and brought the beer to his lips.
"Dark side of the moon came out in the 70s right?" He heard her ask.
"Yeah," he answered and shifted his gaze away from her when she began tugging at her shirt. She usually told him to look away, she might be high and careless, but he knew she wouldn't want him to look at her change.
He looked back as she was tugging the t-shirt into her shorts.
Her t-shirt brought up memories that he avoided thinking about because they were friends and it wasn't right to think of his best friend naked so he shoved the memory of their first time (her first time ever) to the back of his head along with other indecent memories of her.
"Jesus," she murmured stopping in front of the mirror. "Why didn't you tell me I look like this?" she asked, gesturing at her face.
"What do you mean?" he puzzled, stepping closer. "You look fine, Becs," he said, eyeing her through the mirror, a few feet behind her.
"Like I just survived a massacre at Camp Crystal Lake." He'd point out the fact that she made a movie reference if he wasn't busy staring at her. "Thank God back in the day they didn't wear much eye makeup." She grumbled using her forearm to wipe the sweat that formed on her forehead. "I would have looked like a panda by now if I wore makeup the way I usually do."
"Pandas are cute," he mumbled and chuckled when she stopped to glare at him.
Jesse watched her with curious eyes when she closed her eyes for the second time since he got there, wondering what was going through her high mind—MDMA was one hell of a drug.
"Feels good, huh?" he asked when she happily sighed snapping out of whatever state she slipped into.
"Feels ecstatic," she grinned, turning on her heels.
Humming along to the song playing downstairs, Cheap Trick's I Want You to Want Me, he extended his hand.
She took it, figuring he was going to lead her out of the room, but got pulled closer. "Oh, we're dancing here?"
"Yeah, it's really loud downstairs. My ears need a break," he mumbled as they began to sway to the beat.
"Stacie wants it loud." She shrugged. "So I made sure it's loud."
"Of course, you did," he said, shaking his head as he thought of their poor neighbors.
"She wanted it to be loud enough to cover up for sex noises around the house throughout the night. She plans to go twenty-one rounds," she casually mentioned.
"Wow."
"It's both disgusting and genius."
"Did she tell you this?" he wondered.
She nodded. "She asked if I wanted to help."
He arched an eyebrow, slowing down with the dancing. "And by help you mean, sleep with her?"
She nodded again. "I declined. I'm all for experimenting while in college but I'm done screwing my friends." The last thing she needed was to develop feelings for Stacie.
"Hold on, does this mean you'd experiment with a girl?"
"Not something I want to do really. But, who knows?" She shrugged.
His mind went straight to picturing Beca engaging in same-sex sex and it was wild.
He swallowed feeling tightness in his jeans caused by the work of his imagination.
'This is wrong,' he scolded himself and tried to shake it off, picking up the pace as he danced. Beca didn't seem to notice the change—if he was tripping balls, as she called it, he wouldn't either.
"I don't remember it like this," she said as they danced.
"Huh?"
"Tripping. Last time I did this I don't remember feeling this good." Last time was almost a year ago, she took MDMA when she went out clubbing to get her mind off of all the fighting with her parents. She almost swore the drug off then Cynthia Rose offered her some and she couldn't decline, figuring the girls would have her back if it went south.
"Different reasons, different reactions," he said in response. "Last time was that time you called me in the middle of the night to come and get you from that sadist you left with?"
"Yeah," she affirmed.
It was one of the most regrettable things she ever did.
"You were pissed at your parents and going through stuff. This time around you're celebrating your friend's birthday," he reasoned then spun her around abruptly.
He wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her noting that his action disoriented her. "Sorry," he apologized.
"It's okay," she smiled.
"What's so funny?" he questioned when she bit her button lip, holding back a chuckle and looking away.
"Nothing." She looked back at him. He gave her a pointed look. "It's not even funny," she began to say.
"Well, now I really wanna know what it is."
She sighed. "I was wondering how kissing would feel like when I'm high on E," she shared with him.
"We can do something about that."
She stopped dancing, confused by his words. "You have a girlfriend."
"We're dating but Amber isn't my girlfriend." He wanted to pursue something with her but when she told him she wasn't looking for a serious relationship and preferred casual dating he rolled with it. It was going great so far.
Jesse could see the wheel turning in Beca's head as she thought about it.
"No tongue," she finally said and stepped closer.
"Any way you want it, Becs," he smiled as she threw an arm around his shoulder.
He didn't have drugs in his system and barely had any alcohol, yet he felt highly intoxicated when she pressed her lips against his.
She pulled away only seconds later and left him wanting more.
"So?" he asked, playing it cool.
"Disappointing," she mumbled. "I was expecting fireworks."
He wouldn't say it felt like fireworks were going off but it was anything but disappointing.
"I want a redo," she said. "I take back what I said about using tongue," she decided. "Would that be okay with you?"
It was adorable that she was asking for his consent before she kissed him.
"Of course," he responded almost instantly, hoping he didn't look as eager as he really was.
Calling Beca a great kisser was an understatement.
God, he missed kissing her. The inappropriate memories he was trying to forget flashed through his mind as she slipped one of her hands under his t-shirt. Her warm hand feeling his torso was all it took for his self-control to go out of the window.
He picked her up and walked to her bed, all the while kissing her.
She pulled away, panting, and tugged at his t-shirt.
Jesse was more than happy to get rid of it before he found her lips again.
She dug the fingers of her right hand in his scalp, bringing him closer, and cued for the fireworks she mentioned to go off.
Her t-shirt was on the floor, keeping his own t-shirt company, seconds later.
He moved to her neck, placing open-mouthed kisses, in dire need of air but a much bigger one for her.
She was in the process of pushing his jeans down when he unhooked her bra so she paused what she was doing to get rid of it.
The rest of their clothes were gone by the time the song that was playing ended.
Ironically, T. Rex's Get It On was up next in the playlist. If she wasn't preoccupied Beca would have sneaked a snarky remark, Jesse was sure she would. He, on the other hand, liked having a soundtrack to their lovemaking. Beca would call him gross if he called sex that in front her.
Jesse lost track of the songs eventually— Beca had his full attention and who would dare blame him?
"This song came out in the eighties," Jesse noted, looking up from her neck and pecking her cheek.
"Huh?" she was too dazed to try and figure out what he was talking about.
"Africa," he paused. "Africa came out in the eighties," he told her. "Thought this was Seventies only."
"Stacie hates it so I put it in there to mess with her," she explained as he pushed her hair from her face. He was sweating too but not as much as her and it for no other reason than taking Molly. Dripping in her sweat, she still looked beautiful as ever—she oddly smelled great, too.
She ran her fingers through his mess of hair, her eyes carrying something he couldn't put his finger on yet felt like he knew.
He frowned when she sniffled looking away from him and tilted his head to look at her.
"Why are you crying?" he asked, using his thumb to wipe her tears away. "Beca?"
"These are happy tears, Jess," she assured him. "I get why people do drugs before they have sex: Best feeling ever." She didn't sound very happy so he couldn't exactly buy what she was saying.
"I don't believe you." He rubbed his thumb against her cheekbone. "Something is up definitely with you. It's me, Becs, you can tell me," he urged, starting to worry when tears wouldn't stop streaming down her face.
She shook her head, "That's the thing: I can't," she chuckled humorlessly. "You'd think being high would fucking help but nope." She sniffled. "I can't tell you and it fucking hurts." She pushed him away and he obliged. Distancing himself from her made him physically ache for her.
"Why can't you?" he quietly asked, watching her pull the duvet close to her when she sat up.
"At this point, I'm not sure anymore," she murmured, continuing to sniffle, and reached to pick up her underwear from the floor. "I think it's my parents but I don't know." She shrugged.
"Your parents?" He watched her slip on her underwear.
"Huh-uh." She looked up when he climbed out of the bed and locked the bedroom door. "Was it open the whole time?" she asked, mortified.
"Yep," he answered, removing the key.
"That's just perfect." She shook her head and continued wearing her clothes.
She saw him get rid of the condom in the bin under her desk and ignored him when he sat down on the bed.
"You know, I'm not gonna leave you alone until you tell me, right?" He caught his clothes when she tossed them at him and put them beside him only wearing back his boxers. He wasn't in a hurry to get dressed.
"And you know how good I am at avoiding things, right?" she reminded before she rushed to the door only to find it locked and that the key missing.
"Jesse, open the door," she demanded, turning on her heels to face him.
"I don't have the key, feel free to look around," he told her, gesturing at her very messing side of the room. "Told you to clean this mess, Beca," he sighed, noting the glare she shot him.
He didn't want to fight. He just wanted to know why she cried. He was trying to figure it out himself but it was somewhat hard when he had just had sex. He wanted to crash, Beca cuddling up to him preferably.
"Fine, guess we'll just sit here." She shrugged and sat down on Fat Amy's bed.
"If that's what you want." He shrugged as well.
They sat in silence for what was left of Toto's Africa and the next song, Alice Cooper's No More Mr. Nice Guy.
"You're not thinking of climbing out of the window, are you?" he questioned, watching her gaze out of the window.
She tore her eyes away from the window to scowl at him.
"You, my friend, are very unpredictable. Don't blame me for thinking you might do it." He watched her look out of the window again and started stomping his foot to the beat of the song playing.
He recognized it as Steely Dan's Reeling in the Years.
By the end of the song, she was crying again.
She was breaking down and he didn't know how to fix things. He couldn't fix what he didn't know. He also couldn't just sit and watch her cry.
He walked the few feet between the beds and got down on his knees. "Beca," he called, resting his hand on her knee, stilling her shaking leg. "I'm sorry," he apologized.
"Just open the damn door, Jesse, I know you have the key," she choked on her own tears, struggling to keep her emotions in check.
He squeezed her knee, silently begging her to tell him what was upsetting her so much—also, she was right, he had the key and his weak ass wasn't going to stand seeing her crying any longer.
He was about to get up when he heard her quietly singing along to the song playing downstairs while looking at the sky through the window. "'Cause I'm getting weaker, weaker, every day. I guess I'm not as strong as I used to be. And if you use me again it'll be the end of me."
She sniffled tilting her head to look at him and flashed him the saddest smile he'd ever seen on a person as she started to sing the chorus, "'Cause when the loving starts, and the lights go down. There's not another living soul around. You woo me until the sun comes up. And you say that you love me."
She was singing to him, he realized. Dumbfounded by how much of an idiot he was for not figuring it out himself, Jesse got up and pulled her up with him. Of course, it was Love he saw her in her eyes. His heart hurt but in a good way as he pressed his lips against hers.
She wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders, kissing him back and pulling him closer.
Breaking the kiss, she buried her face in his neck and closed her eyes savoring the moment.
AN: The last song is Say you love me by Fleetwood Mac.