It would be easier if Chicago was a dick, Beca decides, as she sips from her flute and leans against the bar. But she watches them make their rounds, arm in arm, and he is all dashing smiles and polite grace, and hell. Beca's a five on the Kinsey scale, but Chicago would be one of the few men she'd get down with. He's just that amazing.

And Chloe deserves someone amazing. Beca has always said that, always believed that, and it just kind of sucks that someone that amazing exists and he did what Beca never could — he asked Chloe Beale on a date.

So she should just be happy for them because clearly, they're perfect for each other, and she shouldn't have this growing bitterness inside of her, seven exact inches below her sternum. She's measured. It appears more often than she'd like to admit.

She should be pulling the sleazy best friend move and try to find a bridesmaid to enjoy for the next two days, but her heart isn't in it. It's always easy to find someone more than willing, especially when they find out who she is at her day job, but it's never satisfying. Ultimately, those kinds of flings just remind her of what she's missing. It's been about three years since she figured that out, much to the dismay of many an up-and-coming star.

Beca glances at the clock, wondering if she can sneak out now without being rude, or even better, seen. She catches Stacie's eye from across the room and slumps when she sees Stacie very pointedly shakes her head.

Whatever. She can last a while longer. They've already gone through the mock ceremony, without Beca thank God, and are now approaching hour two of the rehearsal reception. The dinner aspect went fine, people hit their cues, Beca stayed seated. Wins all around.

Chloe's passed by a couple of times, but always gets dragged away to the next long-lost relative before she can really talk to Beca.

Even though it's disappointing, it's for the best. She puts her empty glass down on the bar. It would be so, so easy to get lost in the bottle tonight. But Beca's done that more than enough, and Stacie told her she could only become a mess on one of the days. Either she gets toasted at the rehearsal or at the actual wedding.

Beca really wanted to say that she'd get loaded at the rehearsal and then be fine during the wedding, but good lord, she was going to need her scotch tomorrow. She'd just make sure to leave the wedding before she got too out of hand. If she ruined Chloe's wedding day, Chloe would never speak to her again, not when she's been planning the event since she was a child.

The little shit part of Beca's brain wonders if that'd be the worst thing. Like, maybe Beca was never able to get over Chloe before because Chloe still wanted to talk to her and be friends. But if Beca fucked that up enough… maybe Beca could finally jump that last hurdle.

Beca turns and asks the bartender to refill her glass. She could feel Stacie's eyes on her as she turned around.

"Jesus!" Beca says loudly, steadying her champagne with one hand and her chest with the other. How Stacie crossed the room in five seconds, tops, will forever remain a mystery.

Stacie didn't seem to care. "I'm watching you, Mitchell. Remember, I'm only taking care of you one night, so if it's tonight, tomorrow you're sober, you understand?"

Beca glares, but nods anyway.

"When can I go?" Beca asks, taking a sip and staring pointedly away from her friend.

Stacie shakes out the watch on her wrist. "Last thirty more minutes and we can go."

"No," Beca says immediately. "Dude, totally stay. The Bellas are here, there are plenty of army guys for sampling, you deserve to be here." She sighs. "I'll be fine. I'll finish this one, final drink, run the clock out, and then head back to the hotel room. No need for a babysitter."

"I'm not going to leave you, Becs," Stacie says, crossing her arms.

Beca rolls her eyes. "Yes, you are, and you're going to have a damn good time." She waves off Stacie's disbelieving stare. "I'm serious. I'm just gonna go back to the room, maybe have a bath, and go to sleep. I'm not looking for any drama. And I'll put earplugs in just in case."

Stacie sighs. "Look, Becs, what if you just–"

"No," Beca shakes her head. "I've said 'no' the last twenty times you've suggested it, I'm not going to stop my streak now."

"But, Becs–"

"No, Stacie," Beca says with her tone of finality. She hardens her stare at Stacie. "You've been great, but I'm not going to fuck up her wedding by telling her, okay? I'm not going to do it. If I was ever going to tell her, I should've done it years ago. Not now, not when she's happy, not when all it would do is make me feel better at the expense of her feeling worse, okay? So keep suggesting it, if you really want to, but it's not going to happen, Legs."

Stacie climbs onto the stool beside Beca. "Okay, Beca. I'm here for you."

Beca's eyes soften. "I know, and I appreciate that."

"You know," Stacie whispers conspiratorially, "all the Bellas were rooting for you, if it helps. Even Aubrey."

Beca snorts. "Sure, Stace."

But Stacie just nods emphatically. "Yeah, we were. We all had bets on how long it would take for you two to get together. Aubrey lost early at two weeks. We all lost and gave back the pool money after Jessica's two years deadline passed."

"Wow."

"You're great, Beca. Even if it's not with Chloe, you deserve to be loved by someone. You deserve to be happy, too."

Ignoring the moisture gathering in her eyes, Beca nods stiffly. "Thanks."

"Which is why," Stacie sighs, "you can leave now. If anyone asks, I'll cover for you."

Beca's out the door in three minutes flat.

So she tries to have a nice night in. She runs a bath using the overly fragrant bubble bath provided by the hotel. When she gets hungry later, she orders a snack from room service and eats it wearing fluffy pajamas and the super soft hotel robe. In the name of taking care of herself, she's in bed by eleven without once being distracted by her mixing equipment looking forlorn in the corner.

She only lightly stirs when she hears Stacie come in around midnight, but chases the tendril of sleep before her brain gets too geared up.