This was a crazy dream; Jesse knew, because it had all the hallmarks of one. And also because he'd had Spaghetti O's at 2 a.m. the night before, and that always gave him weird dreams.
Insane dreams always featured him franticly looking for someone he couldn't find, like how even though he searched high and low he could not find Beca anywhere directly after the Trebles trounced Regionals and he was looking for a victory necking session.
Other tell-tale indicators of freaky dreams: scenarios that don't make sense, like the girl you love intervening (out of nowhere? Where was she a second ago when his mind was on kissing?) when you're being threatened and going Vin Diesel on someone's ass.
Dialogue with little logic, like Amy talking about vertical running.
Slowed or accelerated time, like the molasses-like shattering and tinkling of glass in the window, and then suddenly, he was waiting outside the local police department. And Beca's dad was there. He had never even MET Beca's dad.
It was definitely a dream up until that moment when Beca was telling him he was not her boyfriend. When that happened, it was like he was suddenly awakened, and not in the dreamy, fantastical style of Sleeping Beauty. More like in the gallon-of-freezing-water-to-your-face way style of boot camp hazing.
He thought he had finally been getting somewhere. They were growing closer, she was trusting him, and she had to know he only had her best interests at heart, at all times. And though she refused to let people get close to her, she had let him.
Not close enough to understand everything that made Beca Mitchell tick. Definitely not close enough to truly understand the complicated relationship she had with her dad, which was the polar opposite to the supportive, loving interaction he had with his own parents, who would have bailed him out in a nanosecond and been listening sympathetically the entire ride home, completely on his side.
The ride back to campus in the silence of her dad's car froze him out even more. He felt sopping wet and icy, from his heart to his toes, drenched in the failure of his first sorta-boyfriendly duty of saving the damsel. He clenched his hands together and stared out the window, watching almost eight months of work in getting to know this girl fly by in the shape of scraggly forest branches and moonlit windows, empty in their reflections.
Not only had he failed at it, he did so with such utter misery that she felt the need to cut him with her words. He'd been on the receiving end of her sarcasm many a time, and been witness to it as well, but never before had she struck out at him with true malice in her tone. The cruelty of using the exact words that she knew would affect him the worst showed just how wrong he had been, both in engaging a parental figure, and maybe, in his assessment of their relationship.
When they arrived back at Barden, Beca slammed out of the car before it was in park with no backward glance at either of the two men. Jesse was reaching for the handle when Dr. Mitchell spoke.
"Son," he said, looking in the rearview mirror.
"Uh, yeah?" Jesse said, meeting his gaze.
"Don't take it too hard. She always lashes out when she's angry, but she'll calm down."
Jesse highly doubted it.
"Just give her a day or two to cool off."
"Ok, thanks. Have a good night, Dr. Mitchell," he said, opening the door. "Sorry to wake you up."
Dr. Mitchell nodded and Jesse exited the car, turning toward his dorm. He heard a window roll down behind him, and turned when Dr. Mitchell yelled.
"Young man!"
Jesse turned around.
"Thanks for being a good friend. She needs those, more than you know. If you stick with it, I think you'll find out how amazing she can be," Dr. Mitchell said. Jesse raised his hand in acknowledgement as Beca's dad rolled up the window and drove away from campus.
"That part, I already know," he said to the darkness. Whether they would be amazing, together, ever again, was a mystery.