Strangers in the Night

A Pitch Perfect Story

Chapter 19:The Truth Comes Out

Disclaimer: I do not own anything familiar.

Author's Note: So, I wrote a little something into this chapter for Nora. I hope you enjoy it, darling! To the rest of my twitter ladies, I love you and thank you for your awesome conversations that make me giggle like a little kid. Xoxo! One chapter to go after this! I can't believe that it will be over soon. I think that has been one of the reasons why I have been dragging my heels towards writing this. I just don't want it to end. It's not that long in relation to my previous chapters, but the next chapter will be much longer.

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

"I love you." The three words kept booming through Beca's head. Jesse's arm was draped over her middle, his other arm was wrapped around the top of the pillow her head was on, his fingers occasionally brushing a few locks of her hair off of her forehead. His breath was fluttering the hair by her ear as he settled in beside her, humming softly as he held her close. She kept her body still, and somehow relaxed rather than tense, feigning sleep, but despite the fact that her body was screaming with exhaustion from the insanely pleasurable sex they just had, her mind was going a mile a minute. After a few minutes, his breathing became even, his fingers stopped touching her hair and forehead, and the humming stopped. Her breathing stopped then…and then sped up. She felt like she couldn't catch her breath. Her limbs felt heavy. Her fingers felt like they were going to fall off. She felt tense and sick. Fuck, were those spots over her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the panic attack away, because she needed to not alert him to the fact that she was awake. She needed space. She needed to get away. She needed air.

She quietly and quickly (and carefully) pulled herself from his grasp. She raced down the loft stairs, rushing around the apartment, gathering her clothing and pulling them on. She stumbled over her shoe, cursing under her breath when she fell onto the coffee table, pushing aside magazines and sheet music. She collapsed onto the couch, clutching her wrist to her hand, the pain shooting up and down her arm from the fall that resulted from her hand banging against the wood. She bit her lip, trying to keep the whimpers of pain and smattering of curse words that would make even a sailor blush. After a few moments, she relaxed. The pain turned into a dulling throb, and she realized when she tried to roll her wrist that she couldn't, so she probably sprained it, if not broke it. It was too dark to tell whether or not it was swelling, so a trip to the emergency room was probably in order. Great. That was just great.

She jumped when a cell phone began ringing—his? She dove for the phone on the end table, trying to silence it before it woke the man upstairs. She succeeded, only pausing slightly when she saw who had been calling. The name lit up before her sent chills through her body—more painful that her possibly broken wrist. Using her uninjured hand, she opened his phone, seeing that he had twelve missed calls from Hayley from today. The woman called him twelve times?! Why was she calling him at all? What the fuck? She knew that she shouldn't do this, but she couldn't stop herself. She opened his text messages, seeing that most of the messages were to and from her, some from his parent and a couple of aunts and uncles, the rest from his friends, especially Donald, Todd, and Benji. Then, there were the messages from and to Hayley. So many messages. Messages spanning well-before Beca and Jesse had met and all the way through their entire relationship.

While Jesse was telling Beca that he wanted her, them, whatever it is that Beca-and-Jesse was, he was communicating with his ex-girlfriend. The woman he had known for over a decade at this point—the woman who was he was with for about six years. The woman he moved to LA with, who he dated for a few more months here before he split up with her about fifteen or sixteen months ago. If they split up nearly a year and a half before, then why was he talking to her now. And about china. And the house in the Hamptons. And the painting that his Aunt Catherine got them. What the hell was going on?

The last text that was sent was from him to her, the day before: Just do it! What the hell did that mean? The phone chirped in her hand, indicating that a message had been left, making her jump. She had already gone in too deep, and she couldn't keep her fingers from opening the voicemail and listening to the voice of the gorgeous redhead she had met weeks before. "Jesse…Please answer my calls. I can't…" Hayley sounded like she was crying and angry at the same time. "I just…I'm not ready to give us up. I know it was me who ended things between us. I know it was me who was pushing us to move to LA, and you to have this glamorous life of a composer. I know it was me who did a lot of shitty things, but I'm staring at this damn document. These damn papers, telling me that with one quick signature, all of our time together, our entire marriage will be wiped away as if it wasn't…we had some good moments, right? We were happy? How did we lose that? How did things get so screwed up? I miss you, okay? When I saw you a few weeks ago, I remembered what it was that I lost—what we lost. You were with that girl—you can't truly be serious about her, right? She's not your type, Jesse. She's…look, just call me back, okay? I miss you. I still love you. Can we…can we try again?" There was a click, and then the automated voice on his answering machine was asking her what she should do. She swallowed, saving the message as new, dropping the phone like it burned her.

Jesse was married? Beca felt like she was going to throw up. No longer was she freaking out over the fact that he said that he loved her, but, no, now she couldn't get it off her mind that he was married. He pursued something with her when he was still married. She felt sick. She was the other woman. She was like Sheila. He knew how she felt about Sheila and her role in the termination of her parents' marriage. He knew, and he let her become Sheila anyways. Her heart broke in that moment. She no longer needed to think, to wrap her head around his declaration of love. No, she was done. She was done with him and all of this bullshit. This dare was a complete waste of her time and energy. It left her a shell of herself. This was exactly what she had been trying to avoid. He had wormed his way into her life, and now that she knew the truth—how could he fucking lie to her about being married?—she was left picking up the pieces of her destroyed life. He was so ingrained within her person now; how was she supposed to move forward? And what was she supposed to move forward to? This was what she had avoided her entire life. She wiped angrily at her cheeks, hating that there were tears falling from her eyes like this.

She stood up, yanking on her shoes, ignoring the pain shooting through her wrist, and gathered up her stuff—all of her stuff. Random pairs of flip flops that were lying around, a sweatshirt jacket that she had worn over one day, a romance novel that she had left there after she laughed as she read a cheesy section to him while he was composing one afternoon—everything small thing that she had left there was gathered into her arms. She rushed out of the apartment, not caring if the door slammed shut and alerted him to her having left. She made it to the elevator when she saw his half-dressed form, yank the door to his apartment open, confusion evident on his face. The doors shut, closing off the sight of the man who broke her heart.

Beca had dumped all of her crap into the back seat of her car, driving like a madwoman to the closest hospital to get her wrist checked. It was swollen and blue in the harsh lighting of the hospital emergency room, and she winced as she caught sight of her rumpled appearance in the glass of the cabinets in the room. She looked like a hooker who got beat up by a john. She ran her fingers of her uninjured hand through her hair as a resident rubbed and twisted her wrist, sucking in her breath every time he touched a little too hard or twisted a little too roughly.

"It isn't broken, but it's a bad sprain. You're going to need a brace for about two weeks and minimal use, okay?" He studied her appearance. "How did you say this happened?"

"Boyfriend of a couple months told me he loved me. I freaked and bailed, but I tripped over a shoe and hit it on the coffee table." Why should she lie? That was exactly what happened. The resident furrowed her brow, not believing her. "Swear that's what happened. We had sex. He thought I was asleep. Said he loved me. I bailed. He was my first real relationship. I'm usually a hit it and quit it type of gal." The resident blushed looking away before nodding his head.

"Right, okay. Um, let me get you the brace." He hurried off. He returned a few minutes later with a black brace that he fit around her wrist and a prescription for pain meds for the rest of the week.

She yawned, exiting the hospital with a piece of white paper shoved into her purse, and a coffee from the hospital cafeteria in the other. She stopped at the pharmacy, wandering around the store, buying a box of condoms, a new tooth brush and tube of tooth paste, a bottle of water, a package of pads and a box of tampons, and an assortment of her favorite candy, waiting for the pain meds to be filled. It was nearly two-thirty in the morning when she finally headed towards her apartment. She hesitated when she drove by, seeing that Jesse's car was parked out front of her apartment complex. She kept driving, driving aimlessly, not knowing where she was going. She somehow drove to the beach, cursing the sight of where they had one of their first dates. It was here that he had told her that he had been living with Benji and Todd for thirteen months after he had moved to LA approximately seven months before that…with someone else.

It should have been then that he told her the truth, that he was married. She would have bailed, and she wouldn't have been in this position, with a man whom she cared about who broke her heart. She was so stupid. She shouldn't have gone after him after their first fight. She shouldn't have tried to be something that she wasn't. She wasn't the kind of girl who did relationships and all of that bullshit. She was the type of girl who had fun and moved on when it was over. Her phone was going berserk in her bag, and she knew that it was probably because he was looking for her.

Beca let out a breath, sitting there on the beach, the cool, damp sand between her toes and soaking through her pants to her butt, wishing that she had a bottle of booze to drown her sorrows with. She sat there until the sun came up, and her eyes burned from the combination of exhaustion and shed tears and the salt in the air. She needed to go back to her apartment, but she didn't know if he was going to be there, waiting for her still. She wasn't ready to face him. She was still so hurt and angry, and she didn't want to feel anything when she saw him. She needed to not feel anything. She went back to her car and thought about driving to one of the girls, but she thought better of it. Chloe was busy fucking Tom's brains out, since the ninety-one days were up, and Stacie was now with Donald, complicating things for her. With her being one half of Stonald, she would have to be a bit more Team Jesse than Team Beca in order to not mess up her relationship. Then, there was Aubrey. It was all Aubrey's fault that she was in this mess anyways. Frankly, she could do without talking the older blonde for a very long time. She finally considered calling her sister, who was probably in school, but would go to the bathroom to talk to Beca if she needed it. Then, again, she couldn't exactly trust that Georgie wouldn't immediately go on the defensive for Jesse, encouraging her to talk to him and let him explain himself. She would also probably hang up with Beca and then immediately call him and rip him a new one for lying to her older sister and all that, alerting Jesse to the reason for why Beca left. She wasn't ready for that conversation, and frankly, she didn't even want to ever have it. She wanted to get away and to just never speak to him again.

Beca began driving around aimlessly again. She didn't know where to go or what to do. She looked like a mess. She felt like a mess. She was a mess. She didn't know how it happened, but suddenly she was driving down the street where Luke's apartment was. Luke, her boss, her friend, her friend with benefits from college—someone whom Jesse didn't like, because of their history, his appearance, his role within her life. She felt sick, but she couldn't stop herself from parking the car, or getting out of it, or walking into his building, or riding the elevator to his floor. She had spent so much time here in the years since she graduated. They'd had late nights working together. They'd had late nights just hanging out. There was even that one time that they got drunk after a holiday party and made out on his couch, but they both realized that it felt weird and gross. It was then that she admitted that he was like her brother, and he agreed, saying she was like his sister. He was also someone who was separate from her relationship with Jesse. He was someone who didn't have anything on the line if they were to break up, get back together, whatever. Hell, all he know about Jesse was that there was a guy she was seeing. He'd given her shit about it at work. He'd laughed at her for dating someone. He'd make fun of her for being sexually frustrated when she couldn't see him, especially after she and Jesse had really began to fool around.

She pounded on the door, not knowing why she was here or what she was trying to accomplish. She needed someone—someone to talk to, to hear her. She felt like she was dying inside, and she didn't know how to stop it. Her head was a mess. She couldn't even think straight. Fuck, what was she doing here? The door flew open, and she saw Luke, his beautiful face, his tired gray-blue eyes, and his mussed blonde hair. She took in the way that his navy blue sweatpants dangled on his hips, and the muscles twitched on his bare upper body as he ran a hand over his sleepy face. "Becky?" His voice was gravely as he spoke to her. He dropped his hand. "What're you doing here? It's barely six-thirty." He grunted.

Beca launched herself at him, then. She wanted to forget, and he was there, and he was beautiful, and he was safe. He was familiar. He was…Luke. She wrapped her arms around his neck and molded her lips to his. He stumbled slightly at the impact of her body against his, but his hands settled on her waist. She ignored that he wasn't kissing her back, or that his hands didn't tighten on her hips or slide up and down her frame. He didn't moan into the kiss or open his mouth to hers. He just let her kiss him, and soon she was pulling away, angry, hot tears pouring from her eyes and down her cheeks. She buried her face into her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. It felt like a damn was breaking inside her, and she was emptying every tear that she had held back within her over her dad, her family, her life, and Adam. God, she was even crying about him. She cried about the loss she had endured throughout her life. She cried about the abandonment she felt by everyone in her family, except Georgie. She cried about how she couldn't trust, and that she finally did allow herself to trust, and it only bit her in the ass.

Luke pulled her against his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her frame, guiding them backwards into the apartment. He shut the door with one arm before he led her to his uncomfortable but ridiculously expensive couch. He sat her down while he pressed kisses to the top of her head, holding her against his body. "It's okay, Becky. It's okay." He whispered softly as he rubbed his hand up and down her spine.

"It's not fine, Luke." She sobbed out, her voice breaking and the words barely understandable. She shook her head as she wiped frantically at her eyes and nose. He grabbed the tissue box from the coffee table, offering it to her. She picked out a few tissues, pressing one to her nose while she dropped the rest into her lap. She blew her nose, not caring how gross or unclassy she looked and sounded.

"What's wrong?"

"He's…he's…" She shook her head. She couldn't even say the words allowed. She couldn't even believe them. Jesse was married. He lied to her. He left her a broken mess.

"What did he do? I'll kill'im, Becky. I swear it. No one hurts my best girl." She smiled brokenly at him. She knew that the kiss was stupid, but she was glad that she came to Luke. He was her friend, and she had spent so long keeping that to herself, away from the girls, because she was afraid that they would discover that the two of them used to hookup. She had been stupid. She had been lying to herself and them for so long. There was one man that she could trust in her life, and that was Luke. He really was her best friend—well, her best guy friend. She still loved the girls, and they were forever the number ones in her life, but Luke was important to her. He offered her a job, for fuck's sake. Without him, she might have been struggling to make ends meet, trying to get her music heard after graduation if it weren't for him. He took a chance on her, and he let her flourish at Wharton. Now, she was one of the most sought after music producers. She owed a lot of that to him. Hell, he made her better in college, too. There was a competitiveness in their relationship and at work—she always strove to prove to him that she wasn't some stupid girl, but that she could actually do what she dreamed of doing since she was young. "Did he do this to your wrist?" She shook her head at him.

"He's married, Luke." She finally got the words out, and he cursed beside her.

"Bloody hell." He spat, shaking his head. "What a douche!"

"And, and…he didn't tell me. I found out because his phone went off, and it was his 'ex' calling." She air-quoted the word ex. She dropped her hands into her lap. "Except she's not his ex—not really, not fully. He knows how fucked the situation is with my dad and Sheila." She blew out a breath, wiping at her face with the tissues. "I drove past my place, and he was there. He saw me bail, and he must have gone straight there, while I was at the emergency room, getting my wrist checked out."

"How did you hurt your wrist?" He asked her, rubbing the wrist gently.

"I left while he was sleeping, and I tripped over my shoe. I hit it on the table. Then, his phone rang, and I found out he was married. I gathered up my stuff and left."

"Because if he hurt you—" Beca shook her head, laying her hand on Luke's arm.

"No, he didn't hurt me." She ran a hand through her hair. "Thank you for letting me cry on your shoulder or whatever. I guess I should go. I've got work, you know?" She grinned at him, but she knew that it didn't reach her eyes. It was more like a grimace than a smile. "I work for a real asshole, you know?" He chuckled, pulling her into a hug again. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. The two of them stood up. "Hey, do you have a brown paper bag or something that I could get from you?" He cocked an eyebrow at her, but nodded his head. He made his way towards the kitchen, grabbing a bag from a cabinet by the fridge before making his way back to her. She grabbed it, figuring she could use it to hold all of her crap that she had left at Jesse's.

"Why'd you kiss me?" He asked her as they walked to the door. "We already knew that this doesn't work anymore." He said, waving a hand between them as he turned the knob, opening the door for her.

"I don't know…" She said honestly, chewing on her bottom lip. "I guess I just thought that maybe if I kissed you, I could just let myself forget about what happened earlier. Like, maybe we'd fool around or something, and then I wouldn't feel bad anymore. Maybe I could go back to how I was before—the girl who doesn't do relationships."

"Beca, you're stunning, and you're great in bed, believe me, so we definitely would have had a good time. That being said, I think you would have felt worse if we actually did anything. I could tell you were upset when I opened the door. I could've been the jackass who had sex with you anyways, but you're my friend. Even I'm not that much of a douche."

"I know. I'm sorry. I just…I feel so betrayed. How do you get over that?" She asked him. He frowned, shaking his head.

"I have no idea, Becs, but I've never been in love…" It was like a bullet to the heart, hearing him say that. She wasn't in love with him. She wasn't. She was just…she was just hurt, because he lied to her and made her feel like a fool. She wasn't in love. She didn't do love. "Well, shit, Becky. Did you honestly not know? Did you really think that you'd be this hurt if you found out a guy you were fooling around with was really married. Sure, you'd be pissed off, but you wouldn't be a blubbering mess like this." She glared at him. She was not in love with him. "See you later, Becky." He winked, pushing her out the door. She stared at his door, still in shock over the bomb that he just dropped on her.

Beca yawned as she walked into her apartment building. She didn't see his car when she parked after picking up some coffee and a donut at Dunkin Donuts before making her way home to get ready for work. She figured she was safe, so she made her way onto the elevator, taking a huge bite of her chocolate-icing-covered donut. She washed the bite down with a sip of coffee. She was doing a major walk of shame right now, holding her coffee with her index and thumb finger, and the donut in the wax paper with the other three against the side of the to-go cup. In her other arm, she held the bag of her stuff. Her hair was in a messy topknot at the back of her head, secured into place by a random hair tie she found on the floor of her backseat (along with a lone cheese curl…gross). Her black dress was wrinkled and covered in sand, along with much of her lower half. She smelled like sex, food, and the beach. While this scent would probably be awesome if she on vacation with a guy, but not now, doing the walk of shame, after experiencing one of the worst nights of her life. The elevator door opened, and she took another sip of her coffee. She looked up and cursed, seeing Jesse sitting on the floor outside of her apartment.

He jumped up, and she took in his disheveled appearance. He was dressed in a pair of gray sweatpants, with a pair of orange flip flops on his feet (since when did he own orange flip flops?), and a bright blue t-shirt that was wrinkled and full of holes. He must have grabbed whatever he could in the dark after he saw her leave. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was still standing up in random directions from sleep or sex or from running his hands through it so many times. He swallowed, and she saw the hurt expression on his face. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, because she didn't want to feel the sting in her heart at the sad look on his face. She didn't want to feel the stab in her gut as she thought about how much he hurt her, lying to her like he did. She opened her eyes, letting a cold, stoic expression slide over her face.

"What the hell happened, Beca? Oh, my god! Look at your wrist. What happened to your wrist? Are you okay?" She swallowed, nodding her head, reassuring him that her wrist was okay. "You wanted this. You told me to keep going…" She let a shallow breath, because he thought that she freaked out over them having sex. Well, it was logical for him to think it, because she had said in the past that she was pretty sure that was what she would do. She shook her head.

"I know."

"You know? So why did you leave? Why couldn't you just talk to me instead of freaking out? I thought that we were at a stage where you felt safe to talk to me. I thought that that is what sex meant…that you were trusting me. What happened to the big discussions after we have sex thing that we had going on?"

"Look, I need a shower. I'm not in the mood to have this conversation right now." She didn't want to talk to him about this at all, or ever again. She tried to push past him, but he blocked her path.

"Hell no, I'm not going to let you shut down on me. I know that I'm supposed to let you cool off or whatever and not push you, based on the last time we had our big fight, but this is too important." She glared at him, stepping back.

"Get out of my way, Jesse." He shook his head.

"No, Beca. We're going to fight this out. We're at a much better place now than we were then, so we're going to have this fight." He crossed his arms.

"I'm not having this conversation in my fucking hallway where any of my neighbors could over hear it. I'm not having this conversation with you at all. Period. Done. Clear?" She faked going to the left, and when he tried to stop her, she went right, dropping the bag of stuff at the door. He reached out, grabbing her arm, but she jerked it out of his grasp like he burned her. She shoved her key into the lock, trying to go into the apartment as quickly as possible.

"God, are we really going back to where we were a month and a half ago? Is that what happens when something big happens between us? We spend the night together for the first time, and you freak out the very next morning. Last night, we have sex for the first time, and you freak out again? Please, just talk to me!" She couldn't handle it anymore. She knew she should keep her mouth shut, but she couldn't keep it in anymore.

"If you need someone to talk to so badly, why don't you go talk to your wife?!" She snapped, pushing the door open. She kicked her bag of stuff into the apartment, following it, trying her best to slam the door shut behind her. He had gone into shock it seemed, but the moment the door almost completely shut, he snapped out of it, pushing hard on it to keep her from locking him out.

"Beca, how did—" She glared at him as she stomped towards her coffee table. She put her coffee and donut down before rounding on him.

"Fuck you, Jesse." Beca snapped. Jesse recoiled slightly, shutting the door by leaning back against it. "How did I find out you're married? Not from you, that's for sure."

"Did Donald say something to Stacie?" She narrowed her eyes at him.

"No, it wasn't Donald and Stacie. It might have had something to do with the fact that she called you, like, twenty times yesterday."

"You went on my phone? When? Wow…I didn't see you as the type to go snooping." He crossed his arms, and she could see that he was getting angry and defensive. Sure, she invaded his privacy by going on his phone, but he lied to her.

"I wasn't snooping. Not intentionally. I was trying to leave, and your phone went off. Oh, what the fuck! Why am I even defending myself!? The fact that you're acting like this is my fault when you're the lying, cheating asshole really solidifies that I made the right choice to walk out that door. Now, if you would kindly get the fuck out, that'd be great, thanks." He rubbed a hand over his face.

"I wasn't lying to you. Nor was I cheating. Hayley and I split a long time ago. We separated long before you and I met. We just had a long, messy divorce, because she wanted more than what I had. Like my family's place in the Hamptons. Um, my grandparents own that. Yes, I know that I'm going to get it when they pass away, but that does not mean that she's entitled to it now." She stared at him like he was fucking insane. She didn't give a fuck about whether Hayley was going to get any piece of his family's house in the Hamptons. "God, you have no idea how much I wish I could have talked to you about this. I tried to tell you the truth so many times, but you always shut me down. It was like you knew I was going to say something big and important about my life and my history, and you'd shut it down."

"THIS ISN'T MY FAULT, JESSE!" She screamed, pounding a fist against the front of her thigh. He stopped talking, staring at her in shock. "Stop acting like this if my fucking fault! You're the one who's married. You're the one who lied. You're the one who fucked all of this up! I don't know why I'm even having this fucking conversation!"

"I'm sorry that I didn't tell you that I was married, Beca. I just wish that we could have talked this out, instead of you running away like you always do. I thought we were past all this bullshit. You're my fucking girlfriend, Beca. I'm with you. I've told you this before: I don't want Hayley anymore. I'm so fucking tired of having to constantly tell you over and over that I'm not going anywhere. I'm exhausted. I don't know what more you want from me! I'm just…UGGH!" He was rambling and making no sense. She could see the tears in his eyes, and she almost started to break. She wanted so badly to let him take her into his arms and hold her. She wanted so badly to forget all of this and to forgive him. She couldn't though. She couldn't forget that he lied to her, betrayed her, made her into the person that she never wanted to be. It brought up too much pain and hurt from her past. She couldn't deal with what happened when she was a kid. Not now. God, why did she have to listen to the girls and take on this stupid fucking bet? She saw him become rigid, and his face became bright red. "What bet, Beca?" His voice was low and tense. Shit, did she say that aloud? "WHAT FUCKING BET, BECA?"

Beca refused to look at Jesse. She turned away, wrapping her arms around her frame. She heard him let out a shuddering breath. She felt the tears burn in her eyes, but she refused to speak to him. She couldn't look at him or speak to him. She knew that her not speaking was only making the moment worse, was hurting the two of them more than just having a normal conversation would be. She couldn't bring herself to speak, though. She was hurt, and she wanted to hurt him. She needed his heart to break as much as hers was breaking. She thought back to what Luke had said, and it felt like someone drove a knife right into her soul. She couldn't allow herself to believe what he said was true, despite the glaring pain that was pounding through every fiber of her being. Intellectually, she knew it was true, but emotionally, psychologically, it wasn't safe for her to admit it to herself. It would only be worse; she would feel worse. She knew it, so she didn't speak. She didn't look at him. She let him fall apart next to her, but she didn't try to stop it.

"This was all just some joke to you? Was I just some joke?" She head the gasping breaths he was taking; she heard the tears in his voice. He was struggling to get the words out, and she felt horrible for hurting him, but a sick satisfaction that he was hurting as much as she was. "The girls dared you to be in a relationship with me? What were the terms, Beca? What was the bet all about? How long you could string some pathetic fool along? Was everything a lie between us?"

She swallowed, squeezing on tighter to her body, digging the nails into the skin on her side. She closed her eyes, letting out a shuddering breath. She squeezed them tighter when she realized that he was openly crying now. She never expected to see, or hear, rather, him cry like this. She bit down on her bottom lip, trying to keep herself from crying with him. She was trying her best to keep it together. She couldn't show him how hurt she was.

"LOOK AT ME, BECA! You owe me that much! I deserve that much!" She winced at anguish in his voice. She opened her eyes and let out another breath. She told her body to turn towards him, but as soon as she started moving, she found herself turning even farther away from him. She heard him suck in a few deep breaths. There was silence after a while, except for the sounds of them both breathing heavily. "I can't do this anymore, Beca. You won't even talk to me. Look at me. This was all some fucking joke to you, a bet, a lie. I can't…" He let out a strangled breath. She heard the door open and then shut behind her, and she felt like she was dying. She collapsed to the floor, clutching her legs to her chest.

Beca felt the tears release from her like a dam breaking. It wasn't like earlier when she was crying. It was an overwhelming, never ending river of pain and desperation and inability to catch her breath. She couldn't seem to get her breath again. She blindly reached for her stuff, trying to find her phone. She couldn't breathe. She needed to breathe. She needed…she didn't know what she needed. She found her phone, and she blindly pressed the number seven on the speed dial. She kept crying, barely able to hold it against her face.

"Beca? Beca, is that you?" She heard Luke's voice come through the phone, but she continued to cry loudly, obnoxiously. She heard his muffled curse, and she knew that he was coming. She knew that he was going to save her. The phone call came to an end, and she dropped it into her lap, continuing to sob, attempting to catch her breath.

Beca woke up with a start. She felt like she had been hit by a MAC truck. Her throat was raw, her eyes were throbbing and swollen from crying, and her nose burned from rubbing it like crazy with tissues (she assumed). Her wrist was aching, as well, and she figured she was probably due for another round of her pain meds. She sat up, wincing at the way her head was pounding. She glanced around, noticing that she was dressed in a pair of her cotton shorts and a wife beater, and she was in her room, the blankets tangled around her frame. She ran a hand through her knotted hair, which had been released from the messy bun she had it in from before.

"Hey, you're up." She jumped at the sound of Chloe's voice. She watched the redhead as she came further into the room, presenting her with a mug of what smelled like coffee. "I made you some coffee. Stacie and Aubrey are out buying a bunch of fattening foods and getting disaster flicks and horror movies." She took the mug from her friend's hands, taking a sip, hoping that it would easy her headache some. "Oh, and I have your pain meds here." Chloe said, pointing to the end table. "I'm not sure when your next dose is due."

"Now." Beca said, her voice gravely and barely understandable. Chloe nodded, reaching for the bottle, opening it and dispensing two small pills into her palm. Beca scooped them up and swallowed them with another sip of her coffee. "What are you doing here?"

"Luke called us. He heard you crying, and he dropped everything and came right over. You were a blubbering mess, so he called us. We got your ready for bed and let you cry yourself to sleep. Then, he explained what happened last night." Chloe rubbed Beca's arm as she frowned at her friend. "I'm so sorry, Beca. I'm so sorry that we pushed you to go out with him, and he hurt you like this."

Beca closed her eyes, looking away from the redhead. She thought back to the way that Jesse cried and brokenly begged her to look at him to, to essentially take back what she had said about the bet—it was heartbreaking all over again. She didn't tell Luke that he had said that he loved her, and she didn't want to tell Chloe or the other girls either. She wanted to keep it to herself, because even though it scared her, it was the one positive thing about their relationship that she could take away. He might have cheated—made her a cheater—but he loved her. That had to mean something, right? She was so confused. She didn't know what to think or how to act or even what she was feeling. She felt like she was nothing but a huge jumble of contradictions in one five-foot-two-inches frame.

"I knew that this was going to happen, Chloe. I wish I never agreed to this." She growled, setting the coffee aside. "I knew that this was all bullshit. You and Aubrey…your husbands, well, almost husband," she smiled sadly at Chloe, "those guys are so good. You guys lucked out. I knew this was going to happen."

"Oh, Beca." Chloe shook her head. She pulled the petite brunette into a hug, squeezing her tightly. "You were happy, weren't you? Before all this came out? You and Jesse had a good thing going." Beca scoffed, trying to pull away from the redhead. She didn't know why Chloe was saying this. Wasn't the girl's best friend supposed be on the chick's side? Is that how every stupid chick flick that Jesse had forced on her went? "I mean, I hate Jesse for lying to you about being married, but I don't want you to write off being in a relationship with someone just because you got a bad hand dealt to you with this guy. There are so many amazing guys out there. Not all guys are shitty, cheating assholes. Not all guys will hurt you like this. Not all guys are liars. You deserve to be happy. I'm not saying that you should try again tomorrow—let your heart, mind, soul, ego heal. Give yourself time to get over this horrible betrayal, but you have to get back out there. You were so happy, Beca, having someone to share your life with—aside from us. You seemed like you were at peace."

"Chloe, I'm not a relationship girl. This just proves it."

"Oh, Beca, you're a relationship girl. You're the fall in love, grow old together type of girl. You're the girl that any guy would be lucky to have."

"Thanks, Chlo, but I'm done. This was a stupid experiment, and we now know that it doesn't fit me, okay? We just need to move on." Beca sniffled, shifting away from Chloe. "I'm mostly mad at myself right now, Chloe. I think I just need some time to myself, okay? I just need some time to think and yell at myself for agreeing to this stupid dare. Why don't you go back to your fiance?" Chloe frowned at her, crossing her arms.

"I know you're upset right now, and I know that you feel like you need to push me away, so I'm going to leave your room, but I want you to know that I think it is pretty shitty for you to use that tone with me. I'm just trying to be supportive and love you, because you're an amazing person. You're my best friend, and I love you. You need to know that you're worthy of being loved. I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure that you know that okay? Now, I'm gonna go into the other room with Stacie, Aubrey, and Luke. Holler if you need us, okay?" Beca nodded, allowing Chloe to give her one final hug and a big kiss on her cheek. She watched as her friend walked out of the room before she slid down under the covers of her bed. She clutched the pillow to her chest and began to cry again.

Author's note: Oh, my god. I'm so freaking sorry, guys. I know that you're all probably hating me for doing this, but I had to okay. I had to. This couple can't all be sunshine and roses. Jesse lied to Beca—kept it a secret that he was married. Of course, Beca would freak out about that. She's got serious daddy/step-mom issues, so finding out she is the other woman really fucked with her head. That being said, Jesse's totally not all to blame. Beca's got her issues with hearing that he loves her and finding out that he's married, because of her past. She never let him really share just how serious his relationship was with Hayley. The boy tried about 10,000 times. She shut it down each and every time. Plus, she snooped, and that's totally not cool. The final chapter is up next. I hope that you enjoyed this chapter, and I look forward to hearing what you think. Please nothing mean. You can hate that I wrote this breakup, but please don't say mean things to me. I've gotten some mean comments in past stories following a breakup scene, and I had to delete the comments. Anyways, tell me what you thought in the reviews and what you hope to see in the final chapter.

CONGRATS TO: FatPatricia515 / rdprice29

You guys made the separated/in the process of getting a divorce suggestion, and this one was the one that wound up getting picked via that random generator website.