A/N: Hello! Glad to have you back! Jesse makes his official appearance, and Beca and Chloe get some nice one-on-one time. Generally another lighthearted, fun chapter, though things take a sharp turn near the end. I hope you enjoy!
Chapter 3: Making Friends
Oh, no.
It's him again - "singing car guy" from freshman move in day - and while Beca has a long list of people she'd rather not see again (the entirety of Barden's population included), he is one of the many specifics. Mainly because, if he were to attempt an encore performance, she can't really be held responsible for her own reaction… which may or may not result in a high five to his face. With her fist. Repeatedly.
It also doesn't help that he's just interrupted her conversation with the radio station manager, meandering in five minutes late and pretty much ruining one of her rare attempts at standing out. Beca isn't the most sociable person around, but music is her passion, and if chatting up her superior is what it takes for her to get noticed, she'll do what's needed. After all, natural talent can only get her so far; it's experience in the field, and glowing recommendations that will actually get her somewhere; somewhere, god willing, that isn't here.
Of course, as with everything else in her life, Beca's plans are shot down before they can even take flight. Jesse, as he's introduced, continuously insists they know one another, only to be rebutted time and time again as she tries to rekindle her discussion with Luke. Naturally, the burly blonde mistakes their interaction as some awkward, heated attempt at flirting, and assigns them to CD stacking. But not before notifying them that sex on the desk is off limits.
Gross.
"I do know you," Jesse claims, dropping his bag as she grabs a handful of CDs and old records that are already laying out. "I sang to you. I remember because you were in a taxi." His head, which is down, suddenly shoots up, as if he's had some unexpected revelation. "Wait, is your dad a taxi driver?"
"No," she replies, curtly. Rolling her eyes, she shoves her hand into the box of CDs that Luke had set down, and pulls out a random case - Bob Marley. 'At least this place has good taste,' she muses, setting it aside with a forlorn sigh. "This sucks," she says, more to herself than anyone, "I wanted to play music."
"Not me," the other freshman replies, fixing her with a stare of false sincerity. "I'm here for one reason only. I really love stacking CDs. Y'know, I was actually offered a job at a lab that tests the effects of marijuana on your appetite, but I was like, 'No, I wanna stack CDs! Y'know, hopefully in the vicinity of a…" His voice trails off, gaze dropping towards the table as he recalls Luke's earlier mention of sexcapades, "... semen smeared desk, because that is definitely what happened here. Right?"
Jesse's face turns a little pale at the thought.
Beca, who has spent more time in the seedy underbelly of the city than she'd like to admit, is relatively unphased by this revelation, and shrugs casually as she flips through the collection. "Too bad we don't have my blacklight," she answers, pushing a small CD leaflet back into it's proper place. "Then we'd know for sure."
He stares at her for a moment, as if deciding whether or not she's real, before breaking out into an amused grin. "So, what's your deal?" he asks, moving to place a few albums onto the shelf. "You one of those girls who's all dark and mysterious… then she takes off her glasses and that amazingly scary ear spike, and then you realize that she was beautiful the whole time?"
"I don't wear glasses," Beca replies, exasperated.
"Then you're halfway there," Jesse shoots back, without so much as missing a beat.
She eyes him warily as he makes his way back, looping around the shelf so that he's coming at her from the other side. "You're a weirdo," she decides, though it comes off more friendly than insulting.
"Yeah, and so are you," he says, returning the compliment. "It's a good thing we're gonna be best friends… and, or lovers," he adds, jokingly.
"Please don't say lovers," Beca balks, shaking her finger at him. He looks like he wants to say more, but she quickly cuts him off, "No, really. Please don't. You… you're persistent, and outgoing, and you share way too many personal thoughts. But… you're nice, I'll give you that. And because we will be spending a lot of time together, I think maybe we do have… potential… to be friends. Not close friends, but still friends. Anything beyond that though… I'm… I'm just not interested."
Jesse stares at her, a blank, unreadable expression on his face. Beca almost feels bad, but this isn't exactly her first time turning someone down; in fact, it comes to her as easily as breathing - rejection, that is. Be that of others, or herself, it's not like this is anything new; still, he looks something akin to a kicked puppy, or a kid who's just been told that Santa is a lie. She's not completely heartless, and thinks of ways to soften the blow, but then he's smiling - grinning from ear to ear, really - and nodding his head, as if bobbing to a beat only he can hear.
"Honesty!" he chuckles, a genuine gleam of affection in his soft brown eyes. "I like it." Holding out his fist, he waits for her to hesitantly bump her own against it and beams, "Best friends it is, then!"
It's late afternoon and Beca rests beneath the shade of a tree, cradled by a bed of soft grass and upturned roots that form a pseudo barrier; as if outlining her personal space, and defining which portion of the overcrowded lawn belongs to her. It's been a long day for the aspiring DJ, and it's bound to be an even longer night. She can feel herself growing restless, caged within the iron gates of Barden, and as ample as the campus is, it just isn't large enough for what she wants - what she needs.
Her body yearns to be free, to roam streets far and wide, to be where the action is; Beca seeks the thrill of falling, of flying, of the feeling of complete and utter invincibility. She wants to climb and to crawl, to race past roadways and city lights; maybe take down the random street thug if the occasion calls for it. Here, she is contained; held down; music is her only escape - the only thing that can even come close to giving her that same rush of excitement - and though it helps ease the ache, she can only resist it for so long.
It's as if it calls out to her, some sort of deep seeded need to run wild that is ingrained into her very DNA. Several days have passed since she took her last 'joy ride' downtown, and Beca is nearing the end of her wits. Her classes are done for the day, and she's fulfilled her quota for stacking CDs at the station; all she wants now is to lay here until dark, losing herself to the combined rhythm of David Guetta and The Proclaimers as she waits for her time to come.
Throwing in a few last minute edits, she casts her gaze around the quad as it teems with activity, letting the energy and vibe soak through her. Content with her surroundings, she leans into her bag, which is propped behind her like a pillow; taking a final cursory glance, she places her headphones over her ears and closes her eyes, letting the music take her away.
She falls easily into its embrace, comforted by the thumping of the bass and steady pulsations of the beat; the lyrics weave in and out as if in some intricate dance, parting and coming together again and again. A sigh of satisfaction eases its way past thin lips, bubbling from somewhere deep within her as she relaxes for what feels like the first time in days. Beca is so far gone, so lost in her own little world, that she fails notice the approaching figure until it's much too late.
With a start, she's jerked back into the real world as she senses something very off; a sort of churning in her gut that's reminiscent of the time she drank spoilt milk because she was too stubborn to listen to her father. Eyes shooting open, Beca is welcomed to the sight of a curious face hovering inches above her own. "What the fuck!?" she breathes, yanking her headphones off.
Her first instinct is to punch first, ask questions later, but she recognizes the eyes with that particular shade of blue, and reigns it in. Instead, her hand curls into a fist, and she squeezes as hard as she can, nearly drawing blood as she forces herself to ignore her body's impulse to self-preserve. It takes a few steadying breaths to calm her nerves before she can face her unexpected visitor, willing her heart to slow down before it kills her.
Inhaling sharply, she holds her breath for several seconds, and then exhales in a single, disgruntled puff of air. "What the fuck?" she repeats, a little less startled, and a lot more cross.
"Sorry," the redhead apologizes, offering a sheepish grin as she sits back on her knees, giving Beca back her precious (and much needed) space. "I didn't meant to scare you."
"You didn't scare me," she replies, defensively. "You surprised me. There's a difference..."
The older girl gives her a look of skeptical amusement, but wisely chooses not to argue. "Okay, I didn't mean to surprise you," she corrects, "I just saw you hanging out, and thought I'd stop by and say hi. I've actually been looking for you these past couple of weeks, but you're a very hard woman to find. I mean, you must be really amazing at, like… hide and seek, cuz I swear! I've searched this school up and down, and I couldn't find you anywhere."
"Sooo…" Beca begins, drawing out the word as she unconsciously presses herself further back, "You're stalking me now?"
The senior laughs and shakes her head. "Stalking implies that I've been following you around. I've only been trying to find you. There's a difference," she teases, repeating the brunette's earlier words.
A hesitant "okay…" is her only reply.
"Anyway, I'm Chloe," she introduces, holding out her hand for the girl to shake.
Beca eyes the offered hand, remembering all too well the last time they'd made physical contact. If memory served her, there had been an inappropriate amount of touching involved, and she's reluctant to repeat the incident so soon. Cautiously, she inches her own hand forward and gives Chloe a limp shake, before retracting swiftly to the safety of her own (dangerously small) personal bubble.
"Nice to meet you," she murmurs, "... again." Chloe smiles brightly, staring expectantly, and it takes her several moments of nervous sweating to realize what it is that she's apparently waiting for. "Oh, uh… I'm Beca," she says, rather lamely.
"Finally!" the exuberant ginger proclaims, much to Beca's bewilderment. "I've been calling you 'hot hero chick' in my head since the activities fair! It's nice to finally put an actual name to you!"
There's a dumbfounded expression on Beca's face, her eyes wide and cheeks flushed in a mixture of confusion and embarrassment. 'Hot hero chick?' she repeats to herself, unsure with what to do with that sort of information. She opens her mouth, attempting to form some sort of coherent response, but nothing intelligible finds its way out.
Chloe giggles - giggles! - at her reaction, far too excited at the prospect of having broken this freshman with a single sentence. It's beyond adorable, and all she wants to do is gather the smaller girl into her arms and just squeeze the living daylights out of her. 'Oh my gosh, she's so cute!' she squeals internally, fighting back the urge to reach out and pinch her cheeks.
Beca, as if sensing the increasing levels of 'cuteness aggression' that seem to roll off of Chloe in waves, snaps out of her stupor and chuckles anxiously, "That's me! Beca." (Because if she never hears the phrase 'hot hero chick' again, it'll still be too soon.)
"Well, Beca," says Chloe, beaming, "I know you said that no thanks was necessary, but I'd really like to buy you dinner, or even coffee at the very least, as a token of my appreciation. What you did, stepping in like that… I can't ever repay it, but… but if you give me the chance, I'd like to try."
She's taken aback by the sincerity in her voice, blown away by the honest truth that resonates in her words; Beca is used to doing things without notice, without an ounce of recognition, and yet here Chloe is - basically a stranger in every sense - not only offering her gratitude, but going out of her way to find her in order to do so. To put it lightly, it's… kind of amazing.
"Beca…?" Chloe questions, as minutes pass and she receives no response.
"Sorry," she chuckles, awkwardly, snapping out of her thoughts. "Totally zoned out there for a second. Uhm, I appreciate your efforts, but I… I was really only trying to do the right thing, and-..."
"No, please," the Bella cuts in, "I insist you let me do this."
"Look, I-..." she attempts, but is interrupted again, this time by the sound of her own stomach as it growls with hunger. Her mouth clamps shut, teeth clacking with how quickly she closes it, and her face burns more brightly than the waning sun.
Chloe can't help it, nearly bursting a lung with how hard she laughs. "Do you have class?" she asks, after she finally manages to get her giggling under control.
Beca, too mortified to speak, only shakes her head 'no'.
Smiling, the redhead leaps to her feet and dusts off her jeans, before holding out a hand to help Beca up. "C'mon, you stubborn child," she says, as the younger girl packs away her things and reluctantly takes her hand. "Let's get some food in that belly before someone decides to call animal control."
"It wasn't that loud," Beca mumbles, in an almost pout.
"It sounded like a pack of wild dingos fighting over the remains of a dead wallaby," Fat Amy - who she remembers meeting at the Deaf Jews booth - interjects, as she seemingly appears from nowhere.
The DJ gapes openly.
"How did you-...? When did you-...? W-where did you even come from!?" the shorter girl exclaims, wondering to herself what exactly it was about this place that seemed to nullify her "supposedly" super-heightened senses. Seriously, this is twice in the same hour that someone has gotten the jump on her…
Completely misinterpreting the question, Amy merely replies, "Tasmania."
Beca shoots furtive glances, back and forth between her and the equally stunned Chloe, before choosing the lesser of two awkwards as she retakes the redhead's hand. "I can't handle this. I need pizza," she states bluntly, all but dragging the older woman behind her as she makes a beeline for the cafeteria.
Chloe can't believe it.
She found her! She finally found her! Two weeks of hard searching, and she stumbles across the brunette by accident, spotting her lying out in the quad as she cut through on the way back to her apartment.
'It's destiny,' she tells herself as she's led to the main dining hall, smiling down at the hand that holds her own. Beca is apparently so hangry, and so caught up in her frustrations, she doesn't seem to realize that she hasn't let go yet, releasing her grip only after they've reached their destination.
"Please have pepperoni," the freshman chants, grabbing a tray as she heads towards the pizza. Chloe watches on with mild disturbance as Beca gives a happy cheer and piles half a pie onto her plate, before heading off towards the taco station, having completely forgotten about her in the presence of food.
Remembering that she offered to pay, and realizing that she should probably get something to eat as well, Chloe grabs a garden salad and some grilled chicken - as if her healthy choices can somehow counteract the amount of meat, cheese, and carbs that Beca has miraculously stacked onto her single tray. She sincerely doubts it, but it's still a nice sentiment to have…
"Ah-ah-ah!" she scolds, as she rushes to catch up with the DJ, who has her meal card out and is already in line to pay. "My treat, remember?"
Beca glances down at her three slices of pizza, two tacos, and a bowl of fruit salad. "It's kind of a lot," she points out, blushing. Sometimes she forgets that her metabolism runs about two to three times that of a normal person, and those that have never seen her eat before tend to get a bit overwhelmed.
"What part about 'my treat' don't you understand?" Chloe jests, shoving her own card at the cashier before Beca has further chance to protest. "Besides, if you were to put a price on my life, I'd like to think that it would come out to a lot more than just a tray of cafeteria food."
"Yeah, you're right. It'd be at least two," Beca replies playfully, before she actually realizes what she's said, the smile on her face falling instantly. "I mean, no. You… you can't put a price on a life, and it's totally not funny that I just put one on yours. That was really insensitive, and-..."
"Whoa, hold on!" Chloe counters, as she places a hand on Beca's elbow and gently steers her towards an open table. "First of all, I made the joke, and though I admit, the whole incident is still a little fresh, I'm not so damaged that I can't make light of it. Secondly, I… I really like this - like you, being sarcastic and funny. I mean, you're adorably awkward, but it's pretty nice to see other aspects of you as well."
There's a lump in Beca's throat and she tries not to choke on it as she nods, not confident enough to respond with anything more. This is beyond uncomfortable now; most people take one look at her and turn in the other direction, scared off by the hardened exterior and sharp tongue. Chloe, for one reason or another, doesn't seem to see that; doesn't notice she's a different breed of person, and not the kind to be trifled with.
Between her and Jesse, this is new territory for the freshman - having people that aren't related by blood (and thus naturally obligated) showing interest. She doesn't know what to do.
"Er, okay…" That seems to be her default answer to everything, but it's all Beca has, and so she goes with it.
Chloe doesn't seem to mind and waves her hand at the food, indicating that it's okay for her to start eating. Thankful for the distraction, Beca flashes a small, grateful grin and tucks into her food. For several minutes, they eat in semi-comfortable silence, the smaller student still a little on edge as she hides mostly behind her dinner. Every now and then, she'll cast a glance in the redhead's direction, only to flush as she's immediately caught, and bury herself further into her meal.
"Is there something on my face?" Chloe asks after the third time, a knowing smile playing at her lips.
Beca coughs and sputters out the first excuse she can think of, "You're… uh, y-you're wearing my jacket."
"I thought it was my jacket now?" she quips, finding immense satisfaction in the way Beca almost seems to panic; seriously, this girl was just too cute, and way too fun to mess with.
"Well, that's what I meant," she says quickly, attempting to save face as she wills the fire in her veins to settle down. "It's your jacket, but it… it was mine before it… was yours?"
"Mhmmm," is Chloe's amused response, but it's quickly replaced by a timid expression of her own. "Y'know, I sort of wear it all the time," she admits, laughing softly.
Beca's eyes widen, surprised. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," she nods, picking at the salad with her fork. "It… it makes me feel safe. I was really terrified that night, but when you wrapped me up, it was like an immediate feeling of security. I couldn't have felt any safer than I did at that moment, and wearing it around… it makes me feel protected."
It takes a moment for Beca to process Chloe's confession, but almost immediately, she can feel a small part of herself reach out to this girl. She knows that feeling well, has experienced it before; in fact, it was a similar incident to Chloe's that actually led to the emergence of her powers all those years ago. She had just turned fifteen and was in the throes of her teenage rebellion phase, sneaking out at night to roam the streets because 'fuck curfew!'
Wandering through the park late at night and bumming a smoke off a kid with similar intentions, she walked alone, and with no particular destination in mind. It was as she passed a thick lining of trees, completely out of view from the street, that she was approached by a group of haggard looking men. They hooted and hollered, placing their hands on inappropriate places; backed her into a corner, and promised to show her a good time.
The instant one of them tried to push off her jacket, something inside of her snapped; she punched the first guy squarely in the jaw, and knocked him straight through a tree. Yeah, it was still only a youngling, and the trunk couldn't have been any thicker than six or seven inches, but he had plowed into it with such force, it snapped like a twig.
And when his groupies moved to attack, it was if they were all moving through water; every swing came in slow motion, allowing her an easy dodge and even easier retaliation. It was only when she saw one of them begin to pull a gun did she hightail it outta there, somehow managing to jump over the playground gate in a single leap, and far away to safety before she landed. The rest, well… that was what they called history.
Shaking her head, Beca finds herself back in the present, and doesn't stop to think as she reaches across the table to take Chloe by the hand. "Are you okay?" she asks, sincerely. It had taken her months to get over the ordeal, all alone and afraid; unsure of who to speak with, because really… who would believe her? And she can't imagine it's any easier for Chloe now.
"Have you seen anyone? Talked to anyone?" she presses, softly. "I know it can't be easy to forget."
"I talked it out with my parents, and I've had a couple of sessions with a counselor," she answers, unable to stop the smile from forming as Beca shifts from awkward to attentive, enjoying the warmth of her hand over her own. "And then there's Aubrey, my best friend. You met her at the Bella booth. She basically hasn't let me out of her sight since school started, unless one of us in in class anyway… and she's always checking up on me when-..."
[So I put my hands up,
They're playin' my song
The butterflies fly away]
They both jump, startled by the unexpected burst of song, and Chloe blushes as she hurries to pull out her phone. Beca grins, a brow raised high in amusement as she asks, "Seriously? Party in the USA? That's your ringtone?"
"Hey, it's catchy!" Chloe defends, fumbling through her purse.
[I'm noddin' my head like yeah,
Movin' my hips like yeah!]
"You know what else is catchy? Syphilis," Beca retorts, "But you don't see everyone jumping to catch that tune, do you?"
Chloe clicks her tongue at the brunette and mutters a soft, "shut up!" as she finally manages to find her phone, eyes rolling as she reads the caller ID. "Speak of the devil, and he shall appear," she grins, swiping to accept the call. "Hey, Aubrey! I was just-... wait, wait, slow down! You're losing me! What do you mean there was-... oh my god!"
Beca is just about to ask what's wrong when her "seventh sense" goes completely haywire, an explosion of activity and sound flashing through her mind. She straightens out, eyes unseeing as she focuses on the images in her head, attempting to make sense of the chaos and confusion. There are students running, screaming; she can smell gas and a number of other unidentifiable substances; fire, white hot flames, scorching to the touch; a familiar landmark - the statue of their school's founder - briefly appears, and she knows immediately where she needs to be.
"The chem lab," she mutters, hastily gathering her things.
"Wait, what?" Chloe asks, holding a hand over the phone. "How did you-...?" she glances down, checking to see if she's accidentally put it on speaker, "There was a gas leak, and some sort of explosion. A few students are trapped inside, and the firefighters can't approach until hazmat arrives… did you know? How?"
"I have to go," Beca says, hurriedly tossing her trash without further explanation. "Thanks for dinner."
"Go? Go where?" she demands, standing up. "Beca, where are you going? You're not seriously thinking about-... wait! Wait! Hold on!" She hangs up on Aubrey and slings her own bag over her shoulder, throwing away her own tray before rushing after the swiftly departing freshman.
"Beca! Beca, no!" she cries, throwing open the door to the cafeteria as she runs outside, frantic eyes scouring her surroundings as she searches her out. "BECA!" she shouts, louder, fear roiling in her gut...
And then a whisper, "Beca…" But she's already gone.
A/N: Reviews are always appreciated!