Practice when you're not partaking in the physical stuff is a whole lot more fun, Beca decided. She just sat and watched her teammates sweat and dance their asses off while she worked more on the arrangement for the semi-finals. (It was tricky to use only one hand, her weak hand that is, but she managed)

"Great job, awesome nerds," she said as they finished with rehearsals. "I'll see you all at home later. But seriously, great work!"

"Where are you off to, are you gonna skip pizza?" Fat Amy asked as soon as the leader of her team turned on her heels.

"Yeah, I have to go get ready for a thing."

"What thing?" Stacie casually wondered while patting herself with a towel.

"Just this thing with Jesse," she said, trying her best to sound casual. "It's no big deal."

"If it's no big deal, can't you do it after pizza?" Fat Amy questioned. Pizza after rehearsals were sacred Bella tradition that used to be frozen yogurt before Fat Amy joined the team.

"Well, no. Have fun and don't eat too much pizza. Later, nerds!" She rushed out of the auditorium to avoid any more questions about what she's doing with Jesse. They weren't trying to keep the change in their relationship secret or anything, she's just too awkward and would rather postpone it for as long as she could.

Once she made it to the Bellas' house, she showered (without wetting her hair since she couldn't exactly do anything to style it without help) then spent a good fifteen minutes staring at her closet indecisive of what she should wear. Jesse wouldn't tell her what they were doing exactly but he made the mistake of telling her to dress up if she wanted. (He insisted it was optional and that she could wear whatever she wanted.)

Problem was that she didn't really have any fancy clothes: her fashion sense wasn't very diverse and consisted mainly of dark jeans and plaids.

"This is stupid." She shook her head, realizing that she was putting too much thought into the whole thing and went with dark jeans that were cut in the knees, a white t-shirt, and a leather jacket. The latter was mainly to draw less attention to the sling holding her arm until her elbow healed properly.

She hated feeling nervous when she heard Jesse knock on the door, so she sucked in a breath and tried to hide it.

"Hey, Hilary Swanks million dollar baby," Jesse greeted, dragging the 'hey.'

"You know you could just saying million dollar baby you don't have to reference a specific actress." He shrugged in response and held the bouquet of flowers he had in his hand towards her.

"Flowers. Really?"

"Yes." He nodded and watched her bring them to her nose after accepting them.

"They smell nice. Thank you." She smiled meeting his gaze.

Jesse then followed Beca into the house, locking the door behind him before making his way to the kitchen where she went.

"Let me," he mumbled, rushing to take the pitcher she had just pulled from the cupboard from her hand.

"Thanks," she sighed, stepping back.

He filled the pitcher with water then placed the flowers in it. "Where do you wanna put 'em?" he wondered.

"The table is fine." She shrugged and watched him put it right in the middle of the table.

"Shall we?" he gave her his arm and waited until she took before he began walking.

"So, where are we going?" she asked.

"Somewhere awesome."

"Which is," she said, encouraging him to continue.

"A surprise." He grinned when she rolled her eyes.

"I don't get why you're being all secretive."

"Because the other night at the hospital you told me to surprise you."

"I was also high on painkillers."

He shrugged as he unlocked the door for her and stepped back.

"I don't think I've ever had Mexican food that cost more than five bucks, then again I only ate from Taco Bell," Beca was saying as she eyed the menu of the upscale Mexican restaurant Jesse took her to.

She'll admit, she was impressed with his choice because she really liked Mexican food.

"I picked the place, it's my treat," he said in response.

"No, I didn't mean it that way," she shook her head. "I can split the bill. I'm just saying, I've never had any Mexican food at a fancy restaurant."

"We're not splitting the bill. It's my treat," he clarified. "You can pay for our next date if you really want," he added. "This place is supposed to have legit Mexican food, not fast food type, that's why the pricing is different."

"What makes you think there's gonna be another date?" she questioned, keeping her expression blank as she eyed the menu. She could feel his gaze so she looked up.

"A few things," he mumbled. "Like getting a taste of authentic Mexican cuisine and the other thing I have planned that will blow your mind. You won't see it coming. It's gonna be fun."

She cracked a smile at last and sarcastically said, "Can't wait."

"So, how's practice going with that thing on your arm?" he asked, gesturing at her arm.

"Practice is tricky. The girls and I decided I'd just lay back for the semi-finals."

"You won't compete?"

"I will. I'm just gonna do less dancing than them. But to cover up for that I'm gonna have to do some serious vocal bragging," she deadpanned.

"Vocal bragging?" he snorted.

"Yeah, you know? Unnecessary belting and stuff like that," she explained. "We figured it would be distracting enough from the fact that the team's soloist isn't moving as much as the rest of the team."

"I see," he nodded. "Well, you have great range, you'll do amazing."

"Thanks. And, I'm not worrying. I know I can hit high notes and whatnot; it's just hard to find songs that allow vocal bragging and also sound good, you know? I don't want to overdo it."

"I get it," he said in response. "You can't just start belting out during a pop song."

"Yup." She picked up her glass of water and took a sip. "What's up with you?" she wondered. "Written anything?" She knew he wanted to go back to writing music but was hesitant. She understood his reluctance, he was worried that he lost it—she thought it's absurd, he couldn't just lose his talent.

He just had to get back to writing music and he'd see that for himself.

"Yeah, I have," he answered in slight discomfort.

"And?"

"It's bad," he mumbled. "I told you that I don't think I know how to write music anymore." He played with the napkin in front of him.

"No shit it's bad. You haven't written anything in years, you expect to write symphony number five on the first try?" she rhetorically asked. "Shit takes practice."

"You know Beethoven?" he frowned.

"Everyone knows symphony number five," she replied then sighed when he kept looking at her. "Okay fine. Dad made me take piano lessons and I learned to play classical stuff."

"Can you play Für Elise?" he wondered.

"Yup."

"Nice," he said. "Why didn't you tell me about this before?"

"Classical music never came up." She shrugged. "Which isn't a surprise since it's a borefest."

"Excuse you, classical music rules."

"It's hard to learn that's what it is. I had a terrifying teacher. She actually managed to scare me into learning."

"How old were you?"

"As soon as I started school so like six. Dad shipped me off to grandma but still stuck his nose in what crap I just had to learn," she grumbled.

"Hey, you can make extra money teaching piano yourself if you want, it's not all that bad of a skill to have under your sleeve," he pointed out. "Especially since you've had a strict teacher and would know how not to terrify a child."

"I guess I could." She paused. "I never really thought about."

"What other skills do you have that you forgot to bring up? Did you do ballet?" His eyes widened when he clocked a surprised look on her face. "I totally called it, didn't it?"

"Yeah. But unlike the piano lessons, I didn't go through with it. I cry my poor grandmother's ears off until she let me quit."

"Another shitty teacher?"

"No, I just really sucked at it. And didn't like it at all. I wanted to spend my time playing at playgrounds not getting told my posture is horrible by some French lady whom I barely understood because of her thick ass accent," she explained. "'Close your feet and keep your head up, Rebeca,'" she mimicked the teacher's voice, cracking Jesse up.

"Poor you," he sympathized. "I actually had to beg my parents for piano lessons," he shared with her. "I watched Immortal Beloved… a nineteen ninety-four biopic about Beethoven and I really really liked für Elise. I had a crappy piano toy at the time and to convince my parents that I was serious about the lessons, I learned für Elise on it."

"Für Elise isn't easy at all. Were you a music prodigy and, like, picked it up by ear?" She remembered him very clearly mentioning that he was slightly jealous she could do that very thing: it required a lot of practice to be able to identify notes by ear: she had a musical ear herself but she worked on developing it.

"I wish." He was almost convinced she's a prodigy but didn't seem to acknowledge it. "I just annoyed my babysitter—the sixteen-year-old neighbor who made the mistake of telling me she knew how to play the piano— into teaching me piano and then that piece. I practiced really hard until I learned it."

"Would you say für Elise was what got becoming a composer into your head?"

"Definitely planted the seed," he said as he nodded his head. "What about you? What's gotten you into music? I mean music production."

"Music was a huge part of my childhood even it wasn't my choice at first." She paused. "I liked playing the piano for nana. My first mash up was the ninth's symphony and Mr. Brightside when I was like twelve. It was the first time I noticed how some songs could just like mash together."

He nodded his head and smiled to himself noting the way her eyes lit up as soon as she began talking about her passion.

"I made a habit out of picking up songs that sounded good together than tried them on the piano for nana. I figured out how to mix on my laptop on my own thanks to the internet. And on my fifteenth birthday, Nana bought me mixing equipment."

"We both figured out our calling thanks to Beethoven," he noted when she went quiet. "How about that?"

"It's definitely something," she said in response.

"Tell me more about your days doing ballet," he requested because he had a feeling that there were some anecdotes relating to that period in her life.

He was right because she shared a story about the time she hid in a closet for the entirety of practice and to get out of trouble claimed she got stuck there and wasn't hiding.

He shared some stories from his childhood too. And as they ate dessert, they were exchange high school stories.

He told her how he ended up in detention after a prank that went wrong and learned something about Beca that didn't quite make sense to him.

"You never got into detention?" he said in surprise after she told him that she never got in trouble at school.

"Nope," she shook her head, amused by his reaction to her clean record.

"I find that very hard to believe."

"I'd think of a snarky reply to a teacher that would definitely send me to the principal's office or I'd wanna smack the bitch that picks on me with a volleyball in her face during PE," she sighed. "But then I'd remember that if I did any of that my poor grandmother would get called in and I didn't want that, I didn't want her to sit through whatever crap the principal would tell her about my behavior. Besides, I knew dad would act like a dick if I got into trouble and she'd have to deal with him," she explained. "So, I kept my mouth shut and ignored every asshole that bothered me at school."

"That's a lot of self-control for a teenager."

"Thanks. I'm proud of myself for making it through high school without punching someone."

"I'm surprised you got picked on at all, I wouldn't mess with you if we went to high school together."

"Well, I did theatre," she shared with him. "Oddly enough there were some girls who hated that I got certain parts and relentlessly tried to provoke me. I think their strategy was: provoke me so that I'd hurt 'em and get kicked out so that they'd get the parts. It was weird."

"I'm sorry. You did what?" His eyes widened in surprise.

"Dude, I'm in an a cappella group. Why is it such a surprise that I did theatre in high school?"

"Because you're doing a cappella because of your deal with your dad," he counted. "I mean you changed your mind about leaving but that's beside the point."

"Theatre's fun." She shrugged.

"Yeah," he agreed, drumming his fingers on the table. "Did you do musical theatre, too?" he arched an eyebrow.

"Of course, I did."

"I did musical theater, too. I can musical theater references. I could do musical theater references this whole time and I didn't know! How could you keep this from me?"

"I was expecting a similar reaction, or should I say overreaction."

"Well, what got you into it?" He was intrigued.

"It's actually what kept me from getting in trouble as cliché as that sounds."

"How so?" he frowned.

"I'd draw from the negative feelings I had at the time and just channel 'em into whatever role I played." She shrugged. "It was quite therapeutic for me."

"Why didn't you join a drama club when you got to college?" he wondered.

"I never intended to stay in college in the first place. And, right now I can barely manage my time between the Bellas, the radio station, and school. I don't think can fit another extracurricular activity." She paused. "I have less crappy feelings now than I did back in high school, I don't need therapeutic acting to deal with stuff."

She'd grown a lot since they first met and he was very proud of her for getting through over her issues.

"Gotta love how you put school last there while listing your responsibilities," he noted to which she rolled her eyes.

"I've seen enough CSI episodes to know that going to a park at night usually means people are gonna wind up dead," Beca noted as they stepped out of his car, having reached the park.

"Ha, you're funny," he retorted, grabbing a backpack from the backseat. "You should do standup, Becs, if music doesn't work out."

She smiled tightly at him before looking around them, trying to figure out why he took her to the park.

"C'mon, we're gonna be late," he mumbled, glancing at the time while readjusting the backpack's strap on his shoulder.

"Late for our serial killer?" she arched an eyebrow, hoping he'd slip and tell her the reason they were there.

She knew better than to ask him directly because he'd most certainly tell her that it's a surprise.

"You'll see," he smiled at her.

"Hold on a second," Beca said coming to a stop once she saw the surprise for the night: a movie.

It was one of those parks and recreation things where they sometimes play films at parks free of charge.

The films played during those viewings were usually loved by the mainstream audience.

She thought she recognized the actress on the screen.

"No fucking way," Beca mumbled. "Nicholas sparks?" She tilted her head to look at Jesse who was in the process of pulling a towel from the backpack having found a decent spot: not too far away from the screen but not too close either.

"I might have suggested the movie to the committee after a generous denotation to get a better sound system," he said with a shrug. "We've missed a good chunk of the first act," he frowned, sitting down while he eyed the screen.

"Jesse, this movie sucks ass why would you ask them to play it?" she grumbled, taking a seat as well.

"Because this movie although not the greatest hold a special memory." He shrugged. "When I think back at that day, your ruthless commentary of this movie is what comes to mind."

She knew which day he was talking about: it was the day he found out his ex-girlfriend who had cheated on him with a close friend had gotten engaged to the said former close friend.

She found him day drinking while listening to some depressing music and didn't know how to help.

"So does the trip we took to the tattoo shop," he continued, taking her hand and interlocking their fingers while he rubbed his finger against the side of her middle finger where she had tattooed a couple of measures from David Bowie's Rebel Rebel. "And later at your dorm room," the tone of his voice changed, it was lower and it made her feel funny.

"You didn't know how to help yet you made a really crappy day better because you cared enough to help," he then said.

Dinner felt less like what she assumed a date would be like and more like one of their usual hangout: they just talked and laughed about things.

She, of course, had avoided dating for the longest time and didn't exactly know what people talked about during first dates: she knew she would probably make it awkward if he tried to flirt and was grateful that he didn't.

As they sat shoulder to shoulder under the moonlit sky, things felt different: there wasn't a table between them, they were really close and the way he was looking at her made her feel uneasy.

It was weird: transitioning from friends who slept together on occasions to friends who were acknowledging the feelings they had for each other and were giving dating a shot was very weird.

He leaned in and she couldn't help but tilt her head, hating how awkward she was feeling.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, clenching her hand once Jesse let go of it.

"For what?" Jesse puzzled.

"Being so damn awkward." She paused. "It's just really weird."

"Weird is fine." Jesse shrugged. "You're doing fine." He rubbed her back. "Don't apologize for how you're feeling. I'm the one that should be apologizing for being so pushy." He shook his head.

"No, you aren't." She tilted her head to look at him. "Are you kidding me? Dinner was awesome. So is this, I mean I'm not a big fan of the movie but I like watching movies with you."

"Yeah, but you're uncomfortable and I pushed it just now. We're best friends. I should know better. I'm sorry."

She laughed in spite of herself. "I'm not familiar with first dates or dates in general but I doubt this kind of conversation pops up during first dates."

"You're right," he agreed. "We should have had this conversation beforehand. And, it's on me because I'm—"

"—older," she finished for him.

"More experienced." He frowned. "Okay, let's just talk about this and figure it out," he said, turning so he'd be facing her. "You feel weird about us," he stated. "I don't," he let her know. "But I understand why you'd feel weird," he clarified. "I don't want to make assumptions or like walk on eggshell around you, so why don't you just tell me what you'd be comfortable with and we'll go from there."

He looked at her expectantly and she knew she just had to get over herself and just talk to him.

"I don't wanna rush things but at the same time I want you, dude," she awkwardly said. "We've had sex before and it's great but it's also just sex, you know? Hooking up now won't be just sex and that honestly freaks me out. And like I know it's stupid and that I shouldn't feel this way." She sighed, feeling like she wasn't making much sense.

"It's not stupid," he disagreed. "You just need time," he figured. "Would you prefer if I don't try to initiate things?" he asked. "You take the lead with everything and you let me know when it would be okay for me to initiate things?" he suggested.

She thought about it before nodding, "Yeah, I'd like that."

"Alright then," he smiled at her. "That wasn't that hard to figure out."

"Yeah." It weirdly didn't. "I'm glad we didn't postpone this conversation."

"Me, too." He glanced at the screen. "And we didn't miss that much of the movie."

Beca looked at the movie while he turned to face the screen again. And, as his hand brush against hers, she reached for it.

He squeezed her hand when she leaned against his shoulder, "don't fall asleep."

"Don't drag me to see a movie I hate." She closed her eyes and smiled, hearing him snort in response. "You could have told me the whole thing with the movie without coming all the way here... or giving a generous donation to get some lame movie played."

"I was meaning to donate, alright? It just occurred to me that it would be a nice touch to our first date," he explained.

"You're right, lulling me to sleep in a crowded park while a movie I hate plays is a nice touch," she retorted in amusement.

"Sour patches?" he offered, stuffing his hand inside his backpack.

"Yup." She reached and grabbed a few from the bag once he opened it.

"There aren't many things we could do in town when you can't move your dominant arm, I had to make this date memorable."

"What things would have planned if I didn't have a fucked up elbow?" she wondered.

"Theme park. Mini golf. Painting class. To name a few," he cited.

"I can't paint. And, neither can you," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but that's not the point of the activity. It's fun and memorable and that's what matters." He tossed a sour patch in his mouth as someone shushed them. "sorry," Jesse apologized for talking during the movie.

"Don't apologize. They're watching a movie for free. Go rent it if you really wanna watch it," she said in a loud enough voice the person that shushed them could hear her.

"She's joking," Jesse felt the need to ingest.

"No, I'm not," she quickly added.

"Beca," Jesse called.

"Dude, I'm trying to make this date memorable," she continued in a voice only Jesse could hear.

"By getting us kicked out of a park viewing?"

"Yeah," she nodded.

Luckily whoever it was that Beca was trying to pick a fight with said nothing in response.

She didn't really hate the movie: she thought it's stupid and was vocal about her opinion of it but she didn't hate it.

Beca made it 'till the end mainly because she and Jesse spent the entirety of the runtime poking fun at the movie.

AN: Hi. It's been a while, hasn't it? I know it's not much but I hope you enjoyed reading it nonetheless.