"Dude, it's just Beca," Benji says as he tries on his fifth shirt of the evening. "Haven't you guys been hanging out together like all year long already?"
"Yes, as friends," Jesse clarifies. "And now we're, uh, well, I don't know what we are."
"She kissed you, and you guys talked right? She was in your bed the other night, in New York. I don't see what's left to know," Benji replies.
Jesse sighs heavily, because nothing with Beca Mitchell has ever been easy up to this point. And he's nervous, really nervous, that maybe all of this was just a dream and he'll end up in the friend zone again. He really, really doesn't want to end up there again.
"Go with the blue one," Benji says, turning back to his laptop. "She loves blue."
"How do you know that?" Jesse inquires.
"It's her favorite color," Benji answers simply, and Jesse realizes there's still so much about her that he doesn't know.
"Really? I would have pegged her as more of a black or gray kind of girl," he jokes, and Benji just shakes his head.
"Nope, blue," Benji corrects, "She's always liked the fact that she has blue eyes, and her mom always told her that blue is the color she looks best wearing."
Jesse stares at his roommate, shocked, "And how is it that you know all of this about her and I don't?"
"Because I'm not the one she wants," Benji replies simply. "Remember, she asked you to go out with her tonight, not the other way around."
Across campus, Beca is having similar anxiety about their date even though she's the one that asked him to go out with her tonight. Kimmy Jin just rolls her eyes and shakes her head as Beca puts on the seventh outfit. Ugh, she is not this girl that frets over makeup, hair, and accessories, so she opts for a light blue scoop neck top, a denim skirt, and heeled boots. She leaves her hair down in loose curls, and applies her makeup as usual, lightening it just a bit.
It's just Jesse, she tells herself as she hears a soft knock on her door.
"Hey," he says softly as she opens the door to find him standing there wearing a shirt a slightly darker shade of blue than hers, and dark wash jeans. He looks great, as always. He gives her a quick once over before grinning at her, "You ready?" he asks.
She nods, and they walk out the door. They make the short walk over to the main road just off campus that has shops and restaurants and a small park by a manmade lake. It's warm outside, and they decide to sit outside at one of the cafes there.
After the waitress takes their order, she glances around them, unsure of what to say.
"You're unusually quiet tonight," she opts for, "No 'fun' facts for me about movies I haven't yet seen and don't plan to?"
He smiles, "Oh, you're seeing them," he retorts.
"All of them?" she asks in mock-horror.
"Yep," he says, "I mean your lack of understanding of pop-culture references, inability to quote the best movies of all time, and general disdain for all things fun is really becoming a problem."
She rolls her eyes, "I guess you're just going to have to deal with it," she tells him.
Oh, this implies she wants something possibly long term. His mind goes into overdrive.
"Don't overthink it, weirdo," she quips, as if she reads his mind. They talk about his classes, the Trebles, and Aubrey's latest tirade. The conversation flows easily, and she begins to relax a little. This is Jesse, her best friend. So what if they are changing into something more than that in this very moment?
He smiles, watching her intently as she talks about how Chloe has no personal space boundaries, and loves the way her face lights up when she discusses music or her mother. He's spent countless moments like this with her, their banter bouncing off one another in quick, rapid succession. To the outsider, it seems like half a conversation, since they complete each other's thoughts without verbalizing it, and make references and jokes that only they would understand. When the check comes he snatches it away before she can react.
"Jesse," she frowns, "Let's split it."
"Absolutely not," he grins, the smile reaching his eyes, "This is a date, and the man is supposed to pay."
"This is not ancient times, I am perfectly capable of paying," she tells him.
"I know that," he answers, "But I want to. Now repeat after me, thank you Jesse."
"Thank you Jesse," she manages, rolling her eyes at him, but she's smiling.
After dinner they start walking among the shops and hoards of college students hanging out on the main drive. They end up near the lake, which is more secluded, just as the stars come out for the night. His hands are stuffed awkwardly in his pockets, and hers are gesturing wildly as she imitates how Fat Amy mocked Cynthia Rose's latest choreography, and they're laughing together when his fingers brush against her hand. She stops mid-sentence, looking down at their joined hands for a split second before continuing on her tirade. Their hands swing casually between them as their steps fall in sync with each other, and they can feel the electricity flowing as skin touches skin.
"Jessica is upset because her boyfriend cheated on her, so we've been singing 'hate the world girl crybaby music' lately in rehearsals. Although technically he slept with the other girl while they were taking a break, so I don't know if it really counts as cheating," she's explaining.
"You mean they were on a break?" he asks before imitating Ross from Friends, "We were on a break!"
"Ugh, television show romances," she retorts.
"What, not a fan of the Ross and Rachel saga that went on for ten years? I'm a much bigger fan of movies where the couple gets together after an hour and a half, three tops."
"That's why movies are predictable," she replies.
"What, and TV shows aren't? Like you couldn't tell from the first episode where Ross is falling all over himself for Rachel that they weren't going to end up together in the end?"
"It wasn't set in stone," she answers. "I mean they had a kid together and were on again, off again forever. It kept the viewers interested."
"It drove me crazy. It got to the point where I didn't even care if they did end up together," he argues.
"You, Jesse Swanson, hopeless romantic, did not care about an on screen romance? I'm shocked. Befuddled. Stupefied," she teases him.
"I mean, it's like how long does it take for you to realize you love someone? You either do or you don't. For me there're no shades of gray. You just know right away," he declares. He stops to look at her for a long moment, and she pauses.
"Maybe I just like the excitement, the drama, the anticipation," she replies, her voice soft, "It always keeps you wanting more." And with that, she stands on her tiptoes and pulls his head down for a long, soft kiss, and he swears for a moment he forgets how to breathe.
He wraps his arms around her, deepening the kiss as her hands fist in his shirt. They stand there together in the moonlight, his mouth trained on hers for a long while. When they finally break apart, he's breathless, and she can barely stand up anymore.
"See, it would be stupid to wait ten years for us to do that again," he grins, and she laughs.
"Agreed," she replies, her voice coming out more breathy than she intended, and he raises an eyebrow at her before taking her hand and continuing their walk.
He walks her back to her dorm room when it starts to get late. As they reach her door he leans in for a goodnight kiss to her lips.
"Goodnight weirdo," he tells her as he turns to leave. He makes it about ten feet away when he feels her tiny hands grab his arm and turn him around. She pulls his head down roughly, meeting her lips in a searing, hard kiss that leaves him standing there dumbfounded, hair tousled, and lips swollen.
"See you in ten years, nerd," she says, laughing as she runs back to her room and closes the door.
He doesn't even wait ten seconds before pulling out his phone to text her.
You're such a tease.
And he laughs when her reply comes.
Just keeping you wanting more.
He grins when he types out his reply.
Believe me, you don't need to try. At all.
And her answer arrives seconds later.
Goodnight weirdo. Had a great time tonight. See you tomorrow.
He looks at his watch and it's just after midnight. They have a shift together at the radio station tomorrow at ten o'clock.
Ten years would be asinine, but he thinks he can manage ten hours without her, as long as he can remember to breathe.
A/N: The title is from Dashboard Confessional's Remember to Breathe.