2.
The second time Aubrey sees Chloe naked, she is too mortified for herself to even bother that much about Chloe (which is not to say Chloe's nakedness doesn't bother her). Because this time, Aubrey's getting prodded to get naked, too.
It's the summer break before sophomore year, and the Barden Bellas have made history by advancing to the ICCA semi-finals. One of the graduating seniors has brought the team to her family's beach house to celebrate. Every single one of the eleven girls with bikini-ready bodies is at least tipsy. Every single one of them—from Katie, the outgoing captain who gave Aubrey her first-ever solo, to Alice, a shoo-in to be eventual captain who just wants to give Aubrey a miserable life—has it in her head to go skinny-dipping.
Every single one of them, that is, except Aubrey. After all, Posens are classy and they do not commemorate victories by tearing off their clothes. Besides, as her father has always said, victories are collected, not celebrated. Celebrations are only for those who don't expect themselves to win again.
Of course, she has trouble explaining all this to both Katie and Alice. Along with her, they are the only girls left dressed and standing at the edge of the ocean. The rest are already squealing, thrashing, and fooling around farther from shore, the water lapping up to their chests. One of the other seniors is trying to herd them in for a game. Out of the corner of her eye, Aubrey sees Chloe edging nearer her, apparently planning a sneak attack.
"Aubrey, come on!" Katie says. "No one else is around. We're not going to get in trouble. Live a little."
"Are you really this boring, Posen?" Alice interjects, eyeing Aubrey's hoodie and track shorts in disgust. "This better not be a sign of how you're going to not be one with the Bellas next year."
"N-no!" Aubrey stammers. She is getting more and more flustered—Alice has that effect on her—and she can feel her stomach already twisting into knots. It doesn't help that Chloe keeps swimming into her line of sight, red-orange hair slick and glimmering against pale, bare skin. "I am one with the Bellas! It's just—"
"You're too scared? Or too flabby now to show your junk?"
"—just that my father always says—"
That it's rude to stare at people, especially when they're butt-naked, a voice in her head intones. Aubrey snaps her attention back to Alice.
Who finishes the sentence for her. "That it's never in your best interest to keep Aubrey Posen around. I'm sure that's what he always says." The black-haired girl then nudges Katie towards the water. "Have fun being a killjoy, Posen."
At that, Aubrey sighs and treks back to the beach house.
That's where a still-dripping, barely-covered, alcohol-enabled Chloe finds her some fifteen minutes later, leaning against the kitchen island, pouring tequila into a coffee cup because she could find no other glass.
After a flurry of sharp orders from the blonde to get back to the beach, and pout-filled melodramatics from the redhead that she would not do so, Chloe whines out what cuts Aubrey off once and for good.
"I'm not going back out there! We're supposed to be celebrating the Bellas and I'm not doing that without you! I joined the Bellas with you."
Aubrey wants to say that at this point, Chloe would likely be kicked off the Bellas with her, too.
"And I don't care about Alice!" Chloe grabs Aubrey's wrist, as if reading her thoughts.
"You shouldn't, too," she presses. She leans towards Aubrey, squeezing her hand; in the sudden motion, part of the blouse draped around her shoulders slips off. "You're better than her, that's why she hates you so much. You'll be a better captain, eventually. Then you'll make your father proud."
Aubrey should be used to this by now: the sudden gestures, tactile and not, by which the other girl seems to both deliberately and naturally ease past her boundaries. But Aubrey handles emotional vulnerability just as well as physical intimacy, so she pushes Chloe away—literally.
"I'm sorry," she says almost immediately. "I… I just don't like skinny-dipping." It's a poor save.
Chloe gives her a look, measuring and long.
"No, you don't," she finally says. Her blue eyes are hazy, but Aubrey isn't convinced that her thoughts that moment are, too. "You can't stand there and tell me you don't like running naked into an ocean with a bunch of super-hot girls! I've seen you."
"Seen me?"
"I've seen you!" The redhead exclaims, bolting from where she's been leaning on the counter. "You totally check out hot women too! And besides, how can you not go skinny-dipping? You, like, totes have the hottest bikini-ready body! But you keep all that"—she wags her finger at the blonde's torso—"under all that."
"Chloe!" Aubrey shrieks. Drunk, she reminds herself. Chloe is drunk.
"You totes do!"
Aubrey is beside herself. "You've never even seen me in a swim—"
"We're roommates, dum-dum. You change clothes."
"Aca-scuse me? You peek—"
"Aca-scuse you," Chloe jabs a finger at Aubrey's chest. "You peeked that day I ran into our room after my shower. You were peeking earlier while I was in the water. Don't think I don't see you trying not to look! Perv!"
In the resulting silence, Chloe lifts her chin self-righteously. She lets out a "Hah!" of triumph, raises her arms, and does a little victory jiggle. Her blouse falls off completely.
Aubrey is definitely mortified.