Flashbacks are in italics and song lyrics are in bold italics.

Chapter 4

Beca walked down the hall of the administration building to Jordan's office. Something about this building reminded her of that hospital in that movie, One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest. She hated that movie, but Unicycle loved it and made her go see it every day it was in the theatre. The halls were dark and mundane and smelled of antiseptic. If she closed her eyes she'd swear she was in a hospital. When she got to room 228 she knocked on the door and waited, suppressing the almost instinctual urge to just barge in.

"Are you looking for Dr. Ramsey?"

Beca turned around to the woman standing behind her.

"Uh—yeah. I have an appointment with her."

The woman looked unimpressed with Beca as she looked her up and down, taking in the camouflage cargo shorts she wore and red tank top that revealed all of the tattoos on her arm.

"Aright, well Dr. Ramsey is consulting with another doctor at this moment, but you can go inside her office and wait." She instructed before walking away. Beca rolled her eyes before turning back to the door to open it. Her office was furnished in typical therapist fashion. Maroon carpet, ebony desks, and book shelves lining the walls.

Walking slowly into the room she walked over to her desk and took a seat in the therapist's chair. Yeah it was disrespectful, but when has she ever been one for showing respect, especially to someone she didn't like. Opening the drawer on her left she went through her files until she came upon a folded piece of paper that had jagged edges as if it was ripped from something larger. Picking it up, she opened, reading the lone sentence resting in the middle of the paper.

"To those looking for faults,even the straightest lineappears to have a curve."

-K

Who was 'K'? It probably was her husband or something. Was she even married? She was pretty and nowhere as menacing as her mother so she probably was married. Before she could ponder it further, she heard voices outside the door. She quickly replaced the letter and closed the dresser. She got up and walked the few steps over to a book case and pulled out the first book her hand touched. She opened the book just as the door to Jordan's office opened.

"Beca? I'm glad you came."

Beca scoffed, "Did I have a choice?" She asked, returning the book to its place on the shelf.

Jordan laughed as she took a seat at her desk.

"Well I guess you didn't really. It's still a nice surprise."

Beca stood by the bookshelf and looked at the clock behind Jordan's head. Just one hour. She had to stall for an hour.

"Take a seat, Beca" Jordan said, gesturing to the chair in front of her. Beca sighed before plopping down into the chair. Not only was it early, but she barely got the chance to eat anything before she was informed she was having her first personal therapy session. Though, it didn't matter anyway, since she wasn't going to treat this session any different than she did the group sessions. She'd stare at the clock for an hour, ignore every question Jordan asked, and then return to her room to go back to sleep.

Jordan looked over at her through thin silver rimmed glasses and met silent, baleful eyes staring back at her. The silence between the two stretched out for an unbearably long time with neither woman saying anything, just watching the other, waiting for the first move. It was funny how much of herself she saw in the young alt girl. Beca was rebellious like her younger self and not even all of years of schooling helped her determine that Beca was hiding a world of hurt in the same way she had when she was her age. She clearly remembered being on a fast track to self-destruction before her mother re-entered her life after her parents' divorce and set her straight.

"How do you like the camp so far?" She began, wanting to break the tension in the air.

Beca scoffed at her before averting her eyes to the clock on the wall. Jordan followed her gaze and when she realized that Beca intended to run out the clock on her therapy session, Jordan furrowed her brow trying to come up with some method to get Beca to at least talk to her.

"Tell me about Chloe." She suggested, trying to suppress the smile at seeing Beca look up at her.

Maybe, just maybe this would be the one thing to get Beca to at least trust her. It was the same way her therapist, Katlyn, got her to trust her all those years ago when she was sent to Westmore.

"What do you want to know? No, better question: why do you want to know?" she said, staring at the blonde accusingly.

Jordan shrugged her shoulders and reached up to pull her glasses off her face.

"I don't know. You talk about her a lot so I assume she's important to you."

Beca furrowed her brow as she ran a hand through her hair.

"She is."

"Tell me about her." Jordan recommended as she took her memo pad and placed it back in her drawer.

Beca sighed and ran her hand through her hair again. Now given the chance to talk about Chloe she was at a loss for words. It similar to being asked your favorite song and your mind goes blank.

"What do you want to know?"

"When did you two decide to take the step from friends to something more?"

Beca sat in silence remembering the day quite clearly. It was the summer before junior year and Beca and Liam were having yet another argument.

"What in the hell is this shit, Rebecca!" Liam screamed, spit flying and landing just mere inches from Beca's face.

"I don't see the big deal, it's just a tattoo." She yelled back, looking over to her mother for some sort of support, but of course, like usual, it never came.

"First the piercings and now the tattoos. If you were my kin I swear I'd of already knocked some sense into you." He threatened, clenching his fist at his sides.

"It's never stopped you before" she challenged, crossing her arms in front of herself and smirking at him, hoping he'd hit her like he'd done before. This time her mother wouldn't be able to turn away and pretend she didn't know. She wouldn't be able to ignore the bruise when she'd see firsthand the fist that put it there.

"Beca, just go to your room and give Liam some time to cool off." Jennifer advised, stepping between her daughter and husband. Beca looked at her mother in disbelief, wondering why she was choosing him over her again.

Beca stomped up every step until she made it to her room. When she got there she was fuming and there was no way she would be staying in this house any longer, not while Liam was drunk. She knew first hand that no amount of locks on her door would keep him out when he was in a rage.

She walked over to her phone and dialed the number permanently etched on her brain.

"Hello." Came a groggy voice through the receiver.

"Chlo?"

Beca could hear shuffling on the other end, probably Chloe sitting up in bed.

"Beca?"

Beca got up from her bed and walked over to her closet, pulling out her book bag. She walked over to her dresser and began throwing a few things to wear in it.

"I know it's late, but can I come over?"

"Sure. You know you never have to ask."

"Ok, I'm leaving now."

"Alright, I'll wait by the back door."

Beca wiped at a few unshed tears before replacing her phone on the receiver. She walked to her window and climbed out, the loud sound of her mother and Liam arguing growing fainter the further she ran.

Like she had promised, Chloe was waiting at her back door, welcoming Beca with a warm hug.

"Are you ok?" she whispered into the crook of her neck. Beca inhaled, savoring the smell of her best friend, the smell of safety.

"I am now."

"C'mon. Let's go upstairs." Chloe offered, taking Beca's bag out of her hand and leading her upstairs by the hand. When they arrived to the dimly lit room, Beca took a seat on Chloe's bed, her head falling into her hands.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Chloe asked, returning to her bed. She kneeled behind Beca and placed her hands gently on her friend's shoulders in an attempt to massage out some of her stress.

"He was just being an asshole. The normal." She explained, moaning when Chloe's hands ghosted over a tender spot on her shoulder.

"Did he get angry when he saw your tattoo?"

Beca smirked, bowing her head to give the redhead more access to her neck.

"What do you think?"

Both girls started laughing at this.

"Well I still think it was good idea. I love the way it looks on you."

"Well your opinion is the only one that matters." She admitted, turning her head to lock eyes with the redhead.

After a few minutes in silence, Beca reached up and took a hold of Chloe's hand, stopping her ministrations. Beca got up and made her way over to the side of the bed that had unconsciously been designated as hers.

"What are you doing home so early? I thought you went out on that date with that soccer player 'what's his name?'" she probed, slipping out of her jeans and pulling her shirt over her head.

"His name was Jason and—and I decided not to go."

"Why not? I thought you liked him." She mocked.

"I thought I did too, but I guess I really just wanted my parents to leave me alone about not dating anyone." She answered, casting her eyes downwards, trying not to watch her friend undress.

"It is true though, you haven't dated anyone since like eighth grade. Why is that?"

"I don't know…Maybe because I'm waiting for someone to come to their senses." She said, biting her lip nervously. She hated when Beca asked her questions about her love life—or rather, her lack of a love life. She slipped into bed, pulling the cover over her body as she waited for Beca to get into the bed.

"Someone, huh? Do I know this someone?" she asked, getting in the bed, sliding over to where Chloe lay and the redhead took her into her arms. Beca curled comfortably into Chloe's front.

"Yeah, you know her." Chloe said, choosing to play along.

"Oh, it's a her?" Beca questioned, looking up at Chloe.

"Yeah it is. Is that a problem?" Chloe worried. They never discussed sexuality before, yet, she always figured it wouldn't be a problem for the DJ.

"No, why would it be?" Beca answered, returning to her position in Chloe's arms. The redhead smiled, and continued to hold her best friend, running her hands idly through her hair.

"It wouldn't." Chloe answered, leaning down to kiss Beca's forehead.

"Would I like her?"

At this, Chloe laughed out loud.

"I think you'd love her. She likes music and plays guitar. She skateboards and has this killer tattoo."

"Is that right? Well then I don't like her."

"Huh? Why not?" Chloe questioned.

"Because she sounds awesome and—and she's lucky enough that you love her." Beca admitted, tightening her arms around Chloe's waist.

They grew silent after this.

"Do you love her?" Beca whispered into the dark room after some time.

Chloe sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "Yeah—I do. I love her so much."

After that, there was silence. Beca closed her eyes and smiled contently. Shifting, she draped her arm over Chloe's stomach, pulling her closer.

"Well just know she loves you, too."

Jordan smiled at Beca as she wrapped up her story.

"That is a wonderful story." She said softly. Taking out her memo pad, she wrote down a few notes.

"Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"Depends on what the question is."

"You said that being Liam's stepdaughter hasn't stopped him before. Has he ever hit you?"

Beca snorted.

"As if you care."

"I do."

"Yeah, they all said that: the teachers, the doctors the counselors. Then, Liam would take them to the side, slip them a couple hundred bucks and poof, everyone had amnesia!" she yelled. Sitting back in her chair, she crossed her arms.

"No matter what you may choose to do in your free time, no one has the right to hurt you." Jordan said sternly.

"Oh, forgive me if I'm not quick to take your word when you say you want to help me." Beca mocked, standing up in her seat.

Seeing that Beca was going to storm out of yet another session, she stood up as well and followed Beca's retreating form to the door. Reaching out to grab her patient's hand, she begged her to wait.

"Look Beca, I know that these may not be ideal circumstances, but it's obvious that you are harboring a lot of anger and pain. I just want to help you."

"Hah, that's rich. You want to help me? If you want to help then drive the four hours it took them to bring me here and get Chloe back." She shouted and walked out the door slamming it behind her.

Balling her fist at her sides she quickly made her way out of the administration building. She didn't care. No, Jordan didn't care at all. How could she? She was a therapist at an ex-gay camp after all. What was she expecting anyway? For Beca to just break down and tell her about how horrible her life was? How abusive Liam was to her and her mother? How it was killing her that Chloe walked away from her?

She continued on her path back to her room, anger still radiating through her. However, the anger was mostly directed at herself over the fact that she had allowed Jordan's questions to get to her in the way they had.

"What is wrong with me?" She hissed and ran a hand down her face to cool off. Opening the door to her room, she stopped steadfast in her tracks at the sight of her roommate. She was close to nude save a pair of underwear, but that was it. Her hair was still wet from the shower and the water dripped down her back slowly. Aubrey had yet to realize that Beca had entered and continued to get dressed, her back facing the door.

Beca raised an eyebrow, watching as Aubrey fastened her bra as she sung lightly to herself. When the blonde reached her hand back to clasp what the brunette assumed was her cross around her neck Beca caught sight of a fresh white bandage spanning the width of Aubrey's wrist; a bandage she knew wasn't there the night before when she laid in bed watching the blonde whimper in her sleep.

Despite still being fully committed to Chloe, even Beca had to admit Aubrey was beautiful and whoever managed to make her fall in love must be one lucky son of bitch.

Aubrey reached over to grab her shirt, turning around to find the cardigan she had left by her desk and that's when she spotted Beca.

"Oh My God! What are you doing here?" she screamed, quickly pulling her shirt over her head to try and cover her body.

Beca raised her hands in surrender as she was pushed back out the door by her roommate.

"Rule number twelve: no one may be been seen in any state of undress by anyone of the same gender!" she recited.

"Dude, why are you freaking out? I'm not going to rape you." She joked.

Aubrey's frown didn't waver as she slammed the door in the brunette's face.

"Well what's her problem?" she grumbled. Sliding down the door, she sat down on the floor, crossing her legs to wait for her roommate to finish getting dressed. With nothing else to occupy her mind, she started thinking about the song she was trying to cover but couldn't figure out the chords to.

Billy-Ray was a preacher's son
And when his daddy would visit he'd come along
When they gathered around and started talkin'
That's when Billy would take me walkin'
Out through the back yard we'd go walkin'
Then he'd look into my eyes
Lord knows to my surprise

The only one who could ever reach me
Was the son of a preacher man
The only boy who could ever teach me
Was the son of a preacher man
Yes he was, he was, ooh, yes he was

She had always been a fan of Dusty Springfield. She wasn't as huge a fan of her as of Janis Joplin, but she still appreciated the art Dusty produced.

Aubrey pulled on her shoes, looking at herself in the full length mirror. She sighed heavily, not really happy with the outfit she chose, but realizing it had to do. She used to be so confident in herself before everything in her life went wrong with Amanda. It stole any shred of confidence she had left after her father was done robbing her of her worth.

She looked over at the clock and saw that it was nearing noon. She concluded that she didn't have time to change her clothes. Shrugging in defeat, she walked over to the door to let Beca back in and that's when she heard the soft voice of her roommate.

Flashback

The only woman could ever reach me, was the daughter of a preacher man.

Wearing nothing but her signature black silk shirt, her boy shorts, and one of Richard Posen's fedoras, Amanda gently opened the closet door and came out. Leaning on the door, her raven locks tucked into the hat with several tendrils caressing her neck, she kept her eyes hidden under the brim.

Yes she was, she was, ooh, yes she was.

Coquettishly, Amanda's fingers plucked the top button of the shirt free from its slits as her shoulder glided down the door. Aubrey watched her, raw lust in her eyes, and her mouth slightly parted. Her fingers clutched the pillow in her lap and she could only stare as her girlfriend's hips twisted seductively to the music.

Bein' good isn't always easy
No matter how hard I try
When she started sweet-talkin' to me
She'd come and tell me everything's alright
She'd kiss and tell me everything is alright
Can I get away again tonight?

Amanda lazily swung away from the closet door and sauntered up closer to Aubrey, her fingers freeing the remaining buttons. Aubrey reached up a tentative hand, her finger slowly trailing down the valley between Amanda's breasts, continuing until they reached her abdomen and stopping just above the band of her underwear.

How well I remember
The look that was in her eyes
Stealin' kisses from me on the sly

Amanda leaned down over Aubrey, the blonde's body reclining backwards the closer Amanda got. Aubrey reached up and pulled the fedora off of Amanda's hair, freeing her mane. Shaking her head freely to allow her hair to cascade down, Amanda reached out and placed a possessive hand on her girlfriend's cheek. She gazed deep into the green eyes she'd fallen in love with and finished the verse.

Takin' time to make time
Tellin' me that she's all mine

She sang softly and leaned in to claim the lips of her love.

Their lips danced the soft melody as Dusty Springfield faded out in the background.

"Will you love me forever?" she asked in a gentle and insecure whisper. Aubrey reached her hand up and placed a gentle hand on Amanda's cheek.

"Forever."

The loud rapping at the door forced Aubrey from her reverie involuntarily much to her annoyance. It was for the best she supposed. No use in dwelling on the past, especially one as painful as the one where those memories of Amanda rested.

"C'mon Posen. I can't wait out here forever." Beca called through the door. Aubrey took a deep breath and clutched the cross around her neck. She opened the door and Beca stepped through the threshold, eyeing her roommate suspiciously, not failing to observe the red tent to her roommates eyes. Choosing to remain quiet lest face an argument with the blonde, she walked over to her bed and lied down, hoping to get some rest before lunch and their first group activity.

Taking her song book out from its hiding spot under her bed, she wrote down the chords she was able to figure out in the hallway. This managed to entertain for a few minutes and then she realized that maybe she should say something to Aubrey about not meaning to walk in while she was changing.

Looking over to where her roommate sat on her bed writing in her journal, she pulled the pen out of her mouth that she had been previously chewing on.

"Um, Aubrey?"

"Yes, Beca?" she responded tersely.

"I'm sorry that I didn't knock before—"

"Don't apologize Beca. Apologies only lay the foundation for future offences. Just don'tmake it a habit. I cannot have your incompetence affecting my recovery." She reprimanded. Beca rolled her eyes in response.

"Okay, but let me ask you a question: If you are such a star pupil, then why are you still here?" She inquired, offering a sarcastic smirk along with it.

Aubrey closed her eyes for a split second to calm her stomach and clutched her cross tightly.

"Because I am weak."

Of all of the answers, that was not what Beca was expecting.

"Weak?" she questioned.

"My father says that homosexuals are weak. That Posens are strong. Posens aren't homosexuals." She recited.

Beca shook her head and sat up on her bed. She crossed her legs under her as she faced her roommate.

"Aubrey, look—I know we aren't close, probably not even friends, but what your father said is crap. Embracing who you are, that's strength. Fuck your dad. If that's what he thinks then he's an idiot."

Aubrey didn't say anything. She didn't even look up at Beca. Instead she just reached down and popped the rubber band on her wrist several times.

Realizing that she wasn't going to respond, Beca sighed and turned to lie back down. Lying on her back, she gazed up at the ceiling hoping to get at least an hour of sleep before lunch.

"Amanda said the same thing when I told her that." came a timid response in the silent room.

Beca looked over to Aubrey who shyly met her eye.

"Who's Amanda?"

"Someone that I need to forget." Was her succinct reply along with another pop of her rubber band.

Beca was roused from her sleep by the feeling of something dripping steadily down her face. Blinking her eyes to adjust to the light, she reached two fingers up to inspect what was on her face. Examining her hand, she could see blood staining her fingertips. Not this again. She'd suffered from chronic and random nosebleeds since she was little when an argument with Liam had gotten out of hand.

"Shit." She hissed, jumping up from the bed. She only had one towel and that was the one she used for washing. Looking over to Aubrey who laid on her bed reading, she asked for a towel, only coming to choke on the blood running down her sinuses and down her throat.

"Aubrey, do you have a towel?" she repeated. Aubrey continued to ignore her and Beca rolled her eyes. She reached down and hooked her fingers under the hem of her shirt, quickly pulling it over her head. She wadded it beneath her nose and held her head back, trying to staunch the flow.

Aubrey peeked up from her book, feeling a little bad that she had ignored Beca. When she looked over and saw Beca standing shirtless, her eyes bulged out of her head.

"Where in the hell is your shirt?" she hollered.

Beca rolled her eyes and removed the shirt from her nose to speak, allowing the blood flow to continue streaming down her chin.

"My nose is fucking bleed in case you haven't realized. Since you were being a bitch and wouldn't give me a towel, I used my shirt before I got blood everywhere." She explained and returned the shirt to her nose. Aubrey swung her legs over the side of her bed and stood, prepared to argue back.

"But—"

Beca held up a hand, effectively cutting her off.

"I know, I know. Rule number twelve."

Aubrey crossed her arms and nodded her head.

Beca stepped closer. She removed the shirt once again and whispered,

"Well Ms. Westmore and her rules can kiss my ass."

Not giving Aubrey a chance to respond, she turned on her heels to find another shirt in her closet.

Aubrey watched her walk away and that's when she caught sight of the large back tattoo painted on her roommates back. The sight of it managed to leave her breathless since the last time she'd seen a tattoo close to the size of Beca's was on Amanda's back. Opening her mouth to comment, she was stopped by the door to their room flying open without warning.

The counselor for their floor frowned at the sight of Beca without a shirt.

"Miss Mitchell, you know being undressed while you roommate is in the room is forbidden as stated by rule number twelve."

Beca sighed exaggeratedly and turned to the counselor.

"Well in case you haven't noticed, I'm bleeding out of my face!" she yelled and turned back to her closet in search of a shirt.

The counselor, seemingly left without a comeback, furrowed her brows in frustration.

"Well, please find a shirt immediately. Everyone is to report to the main hall after lunch for the day's group activity." She informed. Slanting her eyes at Beca, she turned to leave the room.

Beca laughed to herself at how ridiculous the people at the camp were as she finally agreed on another shirt to wear. Snatching the garment off its hanger, she walked over to the bed.

Tentatively pulling the shirt from her nose, she grumbled in frustration at the feeling of more blood streaming down her face.

"Dammit, why won't it stop!" she murmured. Aubrey looked over to her in sympathy before reaching into her night stand to pull out her first aid kit.

Beca continued to try and catch the endless blood stream. However, the task was becoming more and more difficult with the shirt now being drenched.

"Dammit." She hissed and threw the shirt on her bed, not caring that blooding was running down her face again. She jumped, startled at the feeling of a hand on her shoulder.

"Sit down Beca." Aubrey instructed. Raising an eyebrow, Beca turned to look at her roommate skeptically.

"Why?"

"Because your nose is bleeding and you're doing a poor job of stopping the blood. Now take a seat." She repeated firmly.

Beca sighed and sat down on the edge of her bed. Aubrey placed the first aid kit down next to the brunette and fished out the Vaseline and a q-tip as well as a wet cloth.

"First off, never lean your head back when your nose bleeds. It's best to let the blood run out your nose rather than down your throat and risk it collecting in your windpipe." Aubrey reached over to grab the waste basket on the side of her bed. Beca looked at her and found Aubrey waiting expectedly. Leaning over the waste basket, both women watched as her blood dripped into the basket. After a few minutes, the drops lessened and soon enough they stopped completely.

Aubrey grabbed the wet cloth and wiped gently at the raw skin under Beca's nose where the brunette had irritated it with her constant rubbing previously. Beca hissed in pain and her hand shot up to stop Aubrey's ministrations.

Aubrey ignored the brunette's protest and continued to wipe away the dried blood surrounding Beca's lips and on her chin.

"Stop, it stings." Beca whined. Aubrey smiled lightly and continued her actions.

"Stop being so childish, Amanda." The moment the words left her mouth Aubrey froze. She couldn't meet Beca's eyes for a several minutes and they spent those passing time in silence. Beca had no idea how to react to being called Amanda and chose to be quiet instead of making a sarcastic remark like she usually did.

"Did you have to stop her nosebleeds often?" Beca asked after sometime in an attempt to snap Aubrey out of her silence.

Aubrey looked up at Beca from where she was kneeling in front of her and nodded her head meekly. She reached over and grabbed a q-tip, coating it in Vaseline.

"Yeah I—I did. She…she was from a broken family and she and her dad didn't always see eye to eye. Sometimes their fights would get out of hand." She explained, reaching up and sticking the q-tip in Beca's nose to coat the nostril lining.

"That sounds familiar." Beca admitted accidently. Both woman were silent, the impact of what they both shared lying between them tensely.

"Well, that should stop your bleeding." Aubrey declared, wanting to extricate herself form the situation as quickly as possible. Beca nodded, subconsciously wishing Aubrey didn't walking away. Discarding the used materials into the waste basket, Aubrey returned the first aid kit to its place in her nightstand drawer and walked out the room. Beca watched her rigid movements and remained planted in her position on her bed.

Once she heard the door slam, she sighed and reached over to the discarded shirt she had picked out and pulled it over her head. All of sudden she wasn't so hungry anymore.

"Hey CR." Beca called, walking over to where the other girl sat in the large room.

"Hey Beca. Haven't really seen you since group therapy. Are you alright?"

Beca rubbed the back of her neck nonchalantly and nodded her head.

"Yeah, I'm good. Um, where's Benji?" she questioned and looked around the room.

"Oh he's in the other building with the guys. They've separated us by gender so that we could do activities that will help our transition into 'womanhood' go smoother." CR answered and pointed over to the left.

"You've got to be kidding me?" Beca said, looking over to the second half of the room which held several tables with sewing machines and fabric on them.

Cynthia Rose chuckled at the astonished look on Beca's face.

"No I'm not. It's quite sad when you think about it."

Beca frowned at her. Just when she thought this place couldn't get any worse, it did. Like really? Did they think that by teaching them how to iron and sew that it would suddenly make them straight?

"You know a lot about what's going on here. Have you been here before?"

Cynthia Rose looked away sadly shrugging indifferently.

"My parents have yet to realize that they can't pray the gay away after I've spent two years at this place."

Beca glanced at her sadly. How terrible it must be to be forced back to this place for third summer in a row.

"Good afternoon ladies." Mrs. Westmore spoke into the microphone trying to capture the attention of everyone in the room.

Beca sighed and turned in her seat to face the front of the room where the older woman stood.

"Today will be your first group activity. As growing young women who will all one day have families of your own, it is crucial that you are able to provide and maintain that family. The group activities scheduled throughout the summer will teach you the various skills every mother and wife should have an expertise in. Today's activity will be sewing."

Several groans of dissatisfaction echoed throughout the room, including Beca's and Cynthia Rose's.

"I'm so glad you all are as excited as I am." Mrs. Westmore said. No one was sure if there was sarcasm in her statement because neither her smile nor tone wavered.

"Now, each table is marked with a number, which stands for your group number. So, can everyone go their assigned table?"

Beca got up and waited for Cynthia Rose before walking to the left side of the room to look for the table marked with the number four. She sat down at the table across from Aubrey who was obviously avoiding looking at her.

Once everyone was seated, a sewing machine in front of them, Mrs. Westmore looked out to them with a tense smile plastered on her face.

She handed the microphone over to a counselor who proceeded to explain to everyone the basics of sewing. It was during this time that Beca not so discreetly placed her head on the table and went to sleep.

After close to ninety minutes of a boring lecture about sewing, Beca was nudged by Cynthia Rose to wake up.

"Each of you has been given an article of clothing that must be patched. You will have one hour to complete the assignment and who ever does the best job will receive a small award. Are there any questions?"

Jane, who was sitting at the table next to the one Beca sat at, raised her hand earnestly.

"I've got a question. How come the guys get to play basketball and we have to sit in here sewing?"

Mrs. Westmore frowned slightly before her smile returned.

"Because proper young ladies don't play rough sports where they'll sweat and get dirty."

Paulie scoffed loudly, "Well at one point proper young ladies were expected to be seen in only dresses and skirts and yet you're wearing pants Mrs. Westmore. I guess you aren't such a proper young lady, now are you?"

Everyone laughed soundly at this.

Beca looked at the table in front and saw a pair of jeans lying there. It would easy enough to patch a pair of jeans since she had to patch her own pants on several occasions. She reached to the center of the table for some fabric, simultaneously turning on the sewing machine in front of her. It didn't take her long to successfully patch the jeans leaving Aubrey and Cynthia Rose to look at her in astonishment.

"B, how'd you do that so fast? You weren't even paying attention to anything Lacey said when she was teaching."

Beca shrugged,

"My girl—ex girlfriend taught me." She said, hating the way the word ex-girlfriend felt in her mouth. Nonetheless that was what Chloe technically was since she had in fact broken up with the brunette. It didn't matter though, since Beca knew she hadn't done it voluntarily.

Mrs. Westmore, who had been walking around to observe all of the girls, stopped when she saw Beca had completed repairing the pants she'd been assigned. Reaching out to inspect the patchwork more closely, she had to admit upon closer inspection, she was impressed.

"Well I guess you have your uses." She said sardonically. Beca looked up at the older woman and sneered.

"My foot has its uses too; want to see how far I can shove it up your ass?" she asked in mock anger, loving how red Ms. Westmore became. The laughter of everyone in the room including Aubrey, who Beca saw chuckling out the corner of her eye, only angered Ms. Westmore more. She stormed off leaving Beca satisfied at being able to get under her skin once more.

After this, the room fell silent again save the whir of the sewing machines in the room. With nothing to do and knowing better than to ask Westmore for permission to leave, Beca just sat there and watched the clock.

"Dammit." Aubrey hissed in frustration. She looked down at the sock she had been trying to repair and after her fourth attempt she was near the brink of quitting. Her incompetence and inability to sew a simple sock, she could hear her father mocking her and calling her a failure. She didn't understand why she couldn't do something so simple. She had listened carefully to the instructions and yet she was struggling greatly.

Beca watched Aubrey struggle to sew on the patch for the sock she had and felt bad for the blonde who looked on the brink of a panic attack. Sighing, she got up from her seat and walked around to where Aubrey sat. Reaching over the blonde, she placed a hand on each of Aubrey's and guided her hands.

"You have to hold it like this" she whispered in her ear, not really realizing how close she was to the blonde.

It may not have been a big deal for Beca, but to Aubrey who was beginning to feel a faint flutter in her heart at the close proximity of the blonde, felt it was a huge deal. Unable to distance herself from her roommate when she felt this way, like she had done earlier when they were in their room, she did the only thing she knew would immediately extricate her feelings. As the scent of the brunette captivated her, she secretly reached down and pulled the elastic band as far as it would stretch before releasing it, waiting for the pain of it slamming back into her arm.