"What the hell are you so happy about now?" Jesse asked. Beca glanced up, and quickly shoved her phone back into her pocket. "Five minutes ago you looked like someone had told you Santa isn't real."
"Santa isn't real?" Beca gasped, and planted her hand across her mouth. Rather than leaving it there, she found herself thinking of what she would say if she weren't totally inept at any form of honest social conversation.
"Jesse," she played out in her mind. "I am excited. And I am scared. I've never felt what I feel right now. I've never had a best friend, not like this anyway. I want to make sure I do things right, I can be a pain in the ass sometimes, and really mess things up. And I don't want to. Oh - and I'm also still finding it damn hilarious that you didn't know the difference between a detective and an inspector, but that's another story for another day."
Instead, she considered herself to have done a pretty good job of shirking the conversation elsewhere; "What's made you so interested in me today anyway?" she said. Her cheeks still felt a little flushed. She hopped off the desk and turned back to her crate of unsorted records that didn't seem to be getting any smaller, hoping Jesse hadn't noticed the colour in her face.
"Told ya," Jesse said, walking towards her. "I'm Sherlock Holmes baby!" She glanced over her shoulder, and he was stood behind her, hands on hips, looking like - well, looking like an idiot. She laughed anyway.
"Ah - another smile!" he joked, and shoved her a little in the shoulder.
"Hey! No need for that!" Beca looked at him, her arms folded. With Jesse stood in front of her, all six foot-something of him just towered over him, and she felt even more miniature than normal.
"I didn't do anything." He said, suddenly blank faced.
"Jesse -"
"Seriously, if you're imagining things, maybe we should check your temperature, I mean, you could be really sick-" his face filled with feigned concern.
"Jesse!" Beca did nothing more than raise an eyebrow, and look away from his gaze. He was too close, and it made her a little uncomfortable.
"Are you sick, Beca? Is something wrong?" he faked a concerned face, then grabbed her by the shoulders, flinging her round in a circle, as if inspecting her all over.
"I'm fine!" but this time she laughed again, as he patted her down all over. God damn she was too ticklish for this! "What the hell are you checking for?" she shouted, between wriggles and giggles.
"I'm just making sure you're alright - no foreign bodies, no abnormal temperature. No abnormal bodies - wait-" he paused, and glanced -
"Jesse," she said, and pointed to her eyes. "I'm up here, if you please."
"Sure," he said. He was once again close to her. He smiled - and it was warm, and homely - like a friend should be - and she felt a little less uneasy. He wasn't all bad.
Chloe finished fastening up the last of the dark blue buttons on her peacoat, and tucked her scarf inside the collar. Her red hair tumbled in curls onto the lapels of the coat, and she smiled. She couldn't remember ever feeling this nervous. She couldn't remember feeling this excited. It could all go horribly wrong - and yet. Yet there was hope. Hope that Beca felt something. Anything.
She shut the dorm block door behind her, making sure she still had the pass to get back in again later, and set off into the cold evening air. Her cheeks were warm, and the sting of the winter wind had extra bite. She pulled her scarf up further around her face, as she crossed the University courtyard, towards the long street on the far corner of which stood the radio station. Whilst it was dark she could still see that the ever darkening sky was thick with cloud - maybe it would snow? Stuffing her hands into her pockets she secretly hoped so.