Mari shook their head, looking wise beyond their years. "Aren't they all," they commiserated.

Chloe's phone vibrated in her pocket.

what's the name again? something studio?

Chloe rolled her eyes. She knew Beca hadn't been fully listening to her.

Scissor Sisters Salon

Her phone buzzed again almost immediately.

oh right. k almost there

"That her?" Mari asked, the curve of their eyebrow a bit too knowing.

Chloe nodded. "Yeah, she wanted to meet me after and then go get food."

Mari's lips twitched. "That's cute."

"Yeah," Chloe said wistfully.

"She's gonna love it," Mari repeated, surveying their work again. "I did a damn fine job."

Chuckling, Chloe agreed, "You sure did."

Chloe handed over the cash to cover the cut and a tip, graciously accepting Mari's thanks with an incline of her head.

The door opened behind her and even with the bustle of the salon and other customers getting their hair done, even over the rumble of the hair dryers, Chloe heard the choked gasp. She swallowed, nervous all over again, and then turned.

Beca was still half in the doorway, one hand resting on the handle, but her face was pure shock. Eyes wide, mouth agape, Chloe couldn't help but fidget a little under her incredulous stare.

"Hey," Chloe offered lamely when Beca still hadn't said anything for several seconds. Chloe tried for a joke, "You don't need to try and cool down the outside, Becs."

Beca's jaw snapped up and she finished stepping inside, letting the door fall shut behind her. "Right," Beca said, voice rough and quiet. She cleared her throat. "You—that's a little more than a trim," Beca commented, cheeks flushing in that deeply endearing way they sometimes did when Beca's mouth was doing things without Beca's express permission.

Chloe shrugged, a practiced nonchalance. "Just felt like something different."

Beca nodded, reminiscent of a bobblehead at a pawn shop, but she didn't say anything else. And Chloe wasn't going to try and coax a compliment out of her. The silence felt like answer enough.

"So," Chloe said, sliding her phone back into her pocket. "What're you in the mood for?"

If it was possible, Beca's eyes widened even further. "In the—?"

Okay, Chloe didn't want to be the kind of woman who went fishing for compliments, but surely even going fishing for one was excusable when your best friend couldn't even pretend to like it? Surely she'd be forgiven by whatever Progressive Women's Council would end up hearing her case?

"You said you wanted to get something to eat?" Chloe asked, rephrasing. She raised an eyebrow in concern at Beca's dazed look, her even more spacey behaviour than usual. Had she even blinked since opening the door? Chloe didn't think so.

Beside her, Mari let out a little noise, halfway between a rumble and a growl. Chloe laid a hand on their shoulder with a soft squeeze and then approached Beca.

"That burrito place you like isn't too far and as long as we don't tell Fat Amy we went, she won't try to rake us over the coals for the betrayal," Chloe suggested, when Beca still hadn't offered up any options. How worried should she be about Beca at this point? This was a lot, even for her.

Chloe turned away from her for a moment, enjoying the way her hair swished as she smiled at Mari. "Thanks again," she said, showing off her teeth. When she turned back, Beca's jaw had gone slack again.

"Your hair—" Beca started to say and then stopped, eyes darting between Chloe's face and her curls. Chloe stared at her, waiting. "It's nice," Beca eventually said, cheeks going an even deeper shade of red as she ducked her head, finally pulling her gaze away.

"Thanks," Chloe said simply, making sure to keep any bite out of the word. She wasn't sure how exactly to feel about the compliment. It seemed like Beca'd had to pull out a couple of her own teeth just to get it out. She frowned a little, because she really thought it had looked great in the mirror. But with Beca's reaction… maybe she'd missed something.

She chewed her lip, trying to puzzle it out as she stepped by Beca, brushing her on the arm on the way to the door.

"It's really pretty," Beca blurted out, right after Chloe grazed her. Chloe stopped and spun on the spot. Beca's eyes were back to being wide and her fierce blush hadn't abated one bit. "You're so pretty," she added, looking just as surprised as Chloe felt about those words leaving Beca's mouth.

"You actually like it?" Chloe asked quietly, reaching up once more to touch the fresh ends of her hair.

Beca nodded emphatically. "I—You look incredible," Beca said softly, her hand coming up until it caressed a few of Chloe's short locks. "You've always been beautiful," Beca added quietly, "but you look so much happier with this that you're on a whole other level, Chlo."

Chloe swallowed hard, floundering under the sudden intensity of Beca's eyes. She forgot they were out in public, forgot they were still inside the salon, forgot that they had an audience of at least one captive witness. "I don't think you've ever told me that before," Chloe said. She was sure she would have remembered it if she had. She'd spent long enough lying in her single room at the Bellas' House wondering if Beca felt anything toward her. If there was any hope at all or if she was just another straight girl Chloe couldn't help falling for.

"I didn't think it needed to be said."

Chloe made a noise of disagreement, though she understood what Beca meant. How many times had they laughed together about some frat boy's stupid lines about her appearance? "It would've been different coming from you."

Beca's head tilted, her face growing thoughtful. "Why?"

Chloe let out a measured breath. She could be honest, or she could keep playing it safe… and she was so tired of playing it safe. Especially when letting loose a little, like cutting off several inches of her hair, could feel so good.

"You know why," Chloe said meaningfully—hopefully.

Beca bit her lip, just a little bit, just at the corner. "Do I?"

Chloe sighed. "I hope so."

Beca hummed. "What if I'm wrong about what I think it is?"

Chloe shook her head. "I don't think you are."

"But how do you know?"

"I don't," Chloe answered easily. She pressed on before Beca could carry on. "But I do know that there is nothing you could say that would make me like you any less."

Beca's lips pursed. "What if I killed your dad?"

Chloe let out a surprised laugh. "You didn't."

"What if I did!" Beca stressed.

"You didn't," Chloe repeated. "And if you did, I'm sure you had a good reason for it."

Beca's brow furrowed. "Really? Just like that?"

"Just like that," Chloe agreed.

Beca nodded then licked her lips. Her fingers were doing that thing, that drumming thing against her thigh that she didn't seem to notice—but Chloe did. Chloe always did. Beca did it when she was nervous, when she couldn't predict how something would go, when she thought she might have to be vulnerable.

It made it so much harder not to hope.

"Does it make a difference because I'm a girl?" Beca asked, a slight waver in her voice.

"Partially," Chloe said. She could give her that much. "That's not really it, though."

Beca rubbed her chin, the deep pensive thought on her face was terribly endearing. "Is it because it's me?" she tried next.

Chloe nodded, but Beca didn't seem satisfied with that. "What is it about me?" she asked. It sounded so rhetorical, Chloe didn't even consider responding.

"Is it…" Beca began and then hesitated, her eyes jumping between each of Chloe's. "Is it because you know, somehow, that I have a massive crush on you?"

Chloe's heart stopped. "What?" she asked breathlessly.

Beca winced. "You heard me." She sighed. "Please don't make me say it again."

It was pounding in her chest now, her heart. She could feel the adrenaline flooding her system. "It's different because I'm halfway to in love with you," Chloe confessed.

Beca looked gobsmacked for a moment and then, "Only halfway?"

Chloe chuckled. "For now," she said. "We'll see if you can play your cards right."

"You're welcome anytime," Chloe said. Her voice was soft and lovely and Beca was only so strong.

She took those words and ran with them. The tingles in her fingers ebbed away with every indulgence Beca made in getting closer to Chloe. Eventually, she felt normal again. A little grumpy, but mostly fine—her usual.

But now—now the feeling's back and she doesn't understand why.

Beca's not a sentimental type of person. She doesn't have stuffed animals from her childhood, doesn't have a lot of photos of the people in her life. At most, she's got her little collection of concert ticket stubs, but that's for professional development.

Yet somehow, Beca needs a photo of Chloe like she needs to mix music. It's haunting her thoughts, looming in the back of her head no matter what she's doing or how much she tries to focus on something else. Since the feeling started, she's had no desire to repeat the discomfort of the first time around this rodeo.

She's tried to make the feeling go away. She's snapped countless candids on her phone: Chloe with a red cup in her hand at a party, Chloe offering guidance about choreography to Cynthia Rose, Chloe smiling, Chloe singing, Chloe reading in different corners of the Bellas' house.

The itch persists.

She doesn't understand. The photos are pretty good. They feel like they capture who Chloe is, how Beca sees her. But somehow, they're still not good enough. She's not sure what else she should try. Asking Chloe to pose for her feels a little gross, like the start of a shitty porno which is not the vibe she's going for. She's pretty sure of that.

So what's wrong with the pictures? What more could she possibly need to do?

Beca opens the door to her and Fat Amy's bedroom, grumbling, before she flops onto her bed. The tiny bit of a scream she unleashes into the pillow makes her feel a little bit better.

Almost immediately, Beca hears someone else walk into her room and then a tall, lithe body is climbing into bed beside her.

"What's going on, Becs?"

Beca mumbles incoherently into the pillow.

It makes Chloe chuckle, at least. "Come on, talk to me. Something's been bugging you for weeks."

Except what is Beca supposed to say? What version of what's going on with her could she possibly make sound normal and not creepy and woo-woo.

Beca turns her head towards Chloe a bit, just enough to get her mouth out of the pillowcase. "I'm fine."

Chloe snorts and adjusts herself on the bed, clearly getting comfortable. Her hand settles just north of Beca's hip. "Does it have something to do with your newfound hobby in amateur photography?"

Beca starts, intending to push herself up and away, except Chloe's grip doesn't let her go too far. "How do you know about that?"

It's really unfair that Chloe's laugh is so pretty. "You thought I wouldn't notice my best friend—who loathes using her phone for anything not music-related—has suddenly developed an attachment to carrying it around in her hands and aiming the lens at me?"

Damn it. She's too smart. How is she failing Russian lit, again?

Beca sighs, going limp and resettling back against Chloe's side. "Yeah, I guess," Beca admits reluctantly. She burrows a little bit, closing her eyes, trying to hide in the safety of Chloe's presence. The issue is that Chloe is too easy to talk to; she's too kind, too compassionate, too understanding.

Chloe nudges her with her shoulder. "What's the problem?"

"I don't even know," Beca whines. "I just haven't gotten it right yet, but I don't know what that even means."

"We could try different lighting?" Chloe suggests. "I can round up the girls, I'm sure they'd be down to help you."

Beca feels her face flush and curses her own body's betrayal.

There's a pregnant pause and then Chloe asks the question Beca really wishes she wouldn't. "Unless… it's not just pictures of me, is it?"

Can Beca please just die? Perish on the spot? Please?

"Becs, why're you taking so many pictures of me, specifically?"

Oh, no, Beca doesn't want to answer that one either, actually. She tries to sink deeper into her mattress, hoping it might just do her a favour and swallow her whole.

She almost chokes on her own tongue when Chloe speaks next. "Do you want me to pose or something?"

Beca rolls a couple of inches and opens her eyes to look at Chloe incredulously. To her credit, Chloe seems to be 100 percent serious. There's no teasing note in her voice, no flirty raised eyebrow.

"You… you'd do that?" Beca asks, taken aback.

Chloe shrugs. "I mean, if you get a photo of me out of this, then I want a turn to get a photo of you after, but, yeah," Chloe says. "If this'll help you, of course I will."

Beca's heart is threatening to burst, but that's how the two of them find themselves moving about Beca's room, adjusting lighting and the curtains and shuffling furniture to find the perfect picture.

It's easy to lose track, once they've been at this for a while, of how many poses Chloe's given her, how many smiles and winks, and, god, how much patience Chloe's gifted her.

That's why it's more than frustrating that with every new picture Beca checks on her phone, they haven't yet uncovered the one. She's starting to be at a loss for what to try next. It just feels hopeless and unfair because Chloe's also been trying so hard, except Beca doesn't know what she's looking for, so she can't even be helpful.

Beca barely resists the urge to launch her phone at the wall.

"Beca, it's okay if that one's not it either," Chloe reassures her softly.

"No, it's not," Beca says petulantly. She continues, frustrated first and foremost with herself, "You're so pretty and you look beautiful in all of these, but—"

"You think I'm pretty?" Chloe interjects, brow furrowing just a little, just enough to push Chloe over the pretty line and into the realm of cute.

Beca rolls her eyes. It's a safe statement. Anyone would think Chloe's gorgeous. "Chlo, of course you're pretty," she says, fondly exasperated.

A look settles into Chloe's eyes. "Okay, take my picture again," Chloe orders, adjusting herself on Beca's desk chair.

"Chloe, you really don't have to—"

"Trust me," Chloe says and her mouth falls into the softest smile Beca's ever seen.

Beca's nodding before she even realises she's agreed.

She lifts the phone back in front of her face, moving it a little to get the right angle for the awkward lighting in the attic. Then she waits. She waits for Chloe to tell her, "Okay," and then she taps the button.

Beca clicks on the preview of the photo to enlarge it and stops breathing.

This is it. This is the one. It's not that different, really, from some of the others they've taken, but it's… perfect. The light in the photo is more coming from the sun out the window than the artificial light above them and it casts Chloe in this ethereally soft glow. Chloe's turned toward the camera, her chin just slightly dipped to draw attention to the line of her jaw. She's smiling—of course she is, Chloe Beale was born to light up a room and to smile wide enough to convince everyone within a thirty-foot radius to smile along with her.

This smile, though, it's not her signature mega-Watt beam. It's subtler, gentler, and Beca feels it resonate within her like a punch in the gut. That's not what causes Beca to gasp, though. No. What causes Beca to gasp are Chloe's eyes. They are normally such a piercing combination of shades of blue, alight with optimism and occasionally mischief. In this photo, though, they're not just that.

The blues border on stormy, with tinges of greys at the edges of the irises. While the characteristic brightness of them is there, it's subdued by how much warmth seems to pour out of them, by how much love radiates into Beca's awareness just by staring at them.

By staring at her.

"Is that the one?" Chloe asks, after Beca's been speechless and gazing helplessly at the photo for almost a minute.

Beca nods silently, still unable to pull her eyes away. Yes. It's perfect. The tingling in her fingertips is blessedly absent because she has it. She finally has it. This is the picture she'll be able to look back on, once Chloe's graduated and they've all moved on with their lives, away from each other. This is how Beca will want to remember her when she has no choice left but to revisit Chloe in the past.

Beca's throat tightens, trying to stave off the impulse to cry now that she understands what this has been about. She needs to stop looking at it, needs to stop living in the past when that past is still the present.

She forces herself to look up, to break eye contact with the photograph and focus on Chloe right in front of her instead. "How did you know?"

Chloe's smile wavers, but it's still that softer version of it. "Lucky guess."

There's something odd about the way she says it, though, something that scratches at Beca's brain. "I don't believe you," Beca says, eyebrows knitting together as she tries to reevaluate the Chloe in front of her. "You know what changed; you did it on purpose."

Chloe's lips purse together briefly and then she nods. "Yeah, I had a hunch."

"So what was it?" Beca asks, trying not to sound too eager at the prospect of uncovering what she'd thought was unknowable.

Chloe's tongue pokes out first and then Beca watches closely as she nibbles on her lower lip. "Don't freak out," Chloe warns.

"I'll take three words to make me freak out immediately for $100, Alex," Beca says. She tries to make it a joke, even throwing in a half-hearted laugh, but suddenly she's wound too tight for that kind of levity to come across as genuine.

"Beca," Chloe says, almost stern.

"What was it?" Beca asks again.

The sigh Chloe lets out is subtle, but Beca hears it easily. "The issue wasn't the lighting or the angle or even the background was it?" Chloe asks, clearly rhetorically. "The issue was in the way I was looking," Chloe divulges. "Whether I was looking at… the camera," Chloe says this and her face changes minutely, eyes no longer a storm. "Or at you," Chloe finishes, and then the greys are back, sharpening the blues in her eyes and the affection seems to thicken.

"Oh," Beca comments blandly. She's not even sure what to say to that. How does that— "Why would that make a difference?"

Chloe raises one skeptical eyebrow. "Really, Beca? Are you really going to stand there and pretend like we're not different with each other than with everyone else?"

"You're my best friend," Beca answers.

Chloe's nod borders on sad. "Yeah. Which totes explains why you hated Tom and why I hated Jesse."

"You hated Jesse?" Beca blurts out. She can't help herself, she hadn't known. Why does Chloe think she'd known that?

"Yeah, I told Aub you wouldn't twig, but she insisted even you weren't that oblivious," Chloe shakes her head with a kind of glum amusement.

Beca's denial rises to her lips and falls like a thousand kilogram stone with the look Chloe levels at her. She swallows nervously and then says, "Spell it out for me, then?"

Chloe's breath is shaky with the tremor across her shoulders, but she nods. "Beca," she starts and Beca starts to sweat. It's extremely unusual for Chloe to call her by her first name instead of the nickname she's favoured for over a year. "The difference in the photo is that I wasn't hiding how I feel about you."

Beca might be stunned. Is this what shock feels like? "How you… feel about me?"

"I love you, you nerd," Chloe says then, like it's an admission. Her eyes are glossy now and Beca can't focus on anything else.

"Yeah, I know," Beca says, confused. "I love you, too." It's a recent development, saying the quiet part out loud like that, but Beca could never tire of hearing those words from Chloe's lips—not when they're meant for her.

Chloe shakes her head. "Not like that, Beca," she says quietly. "I look at you like I'm in love with you," she admits in an undertone. "And if I don't try to hide it, anyone can figure me out within minutes."

She's—Chloe's in—

"But—Tom?" Beca asks, brain short-circuiting as it tries to work in double-time to process what the actual hell is happening right now.

"What, a girl can't have a little fun without being in love with a guy?" Chloe says. "No, I mean, he's fine, but I'm not seriously into him," Chloe explains. "And I haven't seen him in like a year."

"You haven't?"

Chloe shakes her head. "No, I've been… too focused on someone else to bother with that, honestly."

Someone else—

"You mean me?" Beca asks, still trying to find her footing in this new world she's been dropped into.

Chloe smiles a little and rolls her eyes in a fondly familiar way. "Obviously."

"Oh."

Is that what this has been? Is that why Beca's needed to be as close to Chloe as humanly possible? Is that why she thinks about her in a near constant loop in her head? Is that why there are ten USBs in her desk drawer with different mixes Chloe inspired?

Is that why she needed the photo, with Chloe looking at her like that?

"I'm not expecting anything," Chloe says, after Beca's been silent for a little too long. "Nothing has to change."

"What would you want to change, though?" Beca can't help but ask. The question's out there before she can even think of keeping it locked tight inside her head.

"We don't have to talk about this," Chloe says, sidestepping the question in a way Beca would admire if it wasn't contrary to her goals at the moment.

"What if I want to?"

"Why?"

Beca chews on her lip for a second before replying. "I… think I might look at you like I'm in love with you, too," Beca admits. The statement is a little clumsy, but it feels right as soon as she says it, settling across her shoulders like a comfortable blanket.

"Really?" The astonishment in Chloe's voice is palpable.

Nodding, Beca says, "I think, maybe, that's why I needed a photo of you—this photo of you." She gestures down at her phone. "But I've never—and I don't want to steer you wrong or anything, so… what would it look like?"

Chloe considers her at length. She has on her thinking face, complete with the little crease of consternation in the middle of her forehead. "Okay," Chloe says. "Come here." She waves at her lap and Beca approaches her, automatically climbing into the desk chair to sit on Chloe's thighs.

"Are you sure you want to know?" Chloe checks.

"Yeah," Beca says.

Chloe nods slightly and then leans in against Beca's ear, her breath warm against the shell of it in a way that sends a shiver down Beca's spine. Chloe whispers examples and scenarios straight to her brain, noting things they could do and where and how and why and Beca's whole body grows warm up and over her collar. Her pulse skyrockets. Chloe's lips are so close to her, they graze her ear every so often and goosebumps rise on Beca's arms.

She squirms a little in Chloe's lap and Chloe just wraps her arms tighter around Beca's waist, securing her in place.

Eventually, Chloe finishes telling her in vivid detail some of the things they could get up to. She leans away from Beca as Beca tries to corral the thoughts racing around her head faster than lightning strikes. Her heart's beating fast and if there isn't a deep, ugly blush on her cheeks, Beca will subject herself to another horrible evening of Jesse's supposed moviecation.

"So, what do you think?" Chloe asks, voice still low and a little raspy. It's like it rubs against Beca's skin.

"Yeah, yes, please, yes, let's—yeah," Beca babbles, trying and failing to find a coherent combination of words suitable as a response to… all of that.

"Great," Chloe murmurs and then she brushes her lips against the edge of Beca's jaw in such a way that Beca almost drops her phone.

"We could go get dinner," Chloe offers, still nosing along Beca's skin and Beca's heart is still pounding in an effort to calm down. "Or jump right to dessert."

Oh dear god, okay, being the recipient of Chloe's full attention like this?

Beca's kind of looking forward to Chloe breaking her brain on the regular.

It had been a running theme in Beca’s life.

She’d meet someone, form a tentative friendship, then allow herself to open up just enough for them to get a glimpse of the real her, only for her to end up being left alone again. 

Eventually, she just stopped trying. She built up her defences too high, the walls too thick. Not only had she lost the key that would allow her to open up, she couldn’t even remember where the door was. 

She didn’t know how to let Chloe in, even if she wanted to. 

“Beca.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Beca said, running a hand through her hair. 

“I want you to tell me what you’re thinking,” Chloe said. “I want to know why you’re always keeping me at arm’s length.”

Beca swallowed and clenched her jaw, but she didn’t say anything.

“It’s fine,” Chloe said, with a sigh. “It doesn’t matter. I’m gonna go, I guess I’ll see you at rehearsals.”

Say something, Beca’s mind screamed at her. Say anything.

But Beca didn’t. She couldn’t.

She didn’t know how.

-

It was hours later when Chloe was disturbed from her studying by her apartment buzzer.

“Are you expecting anyone?” Aubrey asked, looking up from her own textbook.

“No,” Chloe said, checking to see if she’d had any missed calls or texts.

The buzzer went off again and Chloe put down her book and walked over to the intercom.

“Who is it?” Chloe asked.

There was a pause.

“It’s Beca,” was the response.

Chloe frowned. “It’s like 11 pm, is everything okay?” She asked.

“Yeah I, um, I just wanted to talk to you,” Beca said. “Sorry, I should have text or something. This was a bad idea, I’m gonna go.”

“No,” Chloe said quickly into the intercom. “No, I’m buzzing you up.”

She pressed the button to unlock the door and then spent the next few minutes anxiously pacing.

“I’m not even gonna ask,” Aubrey said, packing up her stuff. “I should have known it was her fault that you’ve been in a weird mood all night.”

Before Chloe could argue, Aubrey had retreated to her room, and Beca knocked on the apartment door.

“Hey,” Chloe said, opening it and standing aside so Beca could enter. “What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry for just turning up,” Beca said, wringing her hands as she crossed the threshold into Chloe’s apartment. “I just… I don’t like how I left things with us earlier, and I always come across too blunt in texts and-”

“Bec, it’s okay,” Chloe said, frowning as she watched Beca begin pacing. She’d never seen Beca like this before. She’d never seen her look anything other than calm, or composed, or occasionally disinterested. Aside from the incident in the shower, she’d never seen Beca look flustered like this. “Take a breath.” 

She did, a shaky hand coming up to run through her hair. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” Chloe said. “I’m glad you’re here, I don’t like how we left things either.”

“It’s just, the thing is, I’m not… I’m not good at this. The whole friendship thing. I try and be, you know, open and shit but it always ends up blowing up in my face. I’m always… When I finally allow myself to open up a little, they always leave. I always end up on my own again, and eventually, I just figured why bother, you know? And now… Now I don’t even know how to do it anymore. It’s like my whole brain shuts down and I lose the ability to speak. I don’t know how to open up anymore, and I’m afraid that if I don’t figure it out I’m going to lose you. And I’m afraid that if I do figure it out, I’m going to lose you.” Beca cleared her throat, suddenly terrified that she was about to cry. “You asked what I’m afraid of, and it’s that. I’m afraid I’m going to lose you, the same way I’ve lost everyone else.”

Chloe gave her a soft smile. “You aren’t going to lose me,” she said. 

“That’s what everyone says,” Beca said.

“I’m not everyone,” Chloe countered. 

“No,” Beca said. “You definitely aren’t. And that’s a good thing,” she added.

“I know,” Chloe said, her lips curling into a smirk. “So trust me when I say that you aren’t going to scare me off by letting me see the real you. In case you hadn’t noticed, I don’t scare easy.”

“I had noticed.”

“And can I tell you something else?” Chloe asked, her hands resting on Beca’s shoulders before moving down to rub up and down her arms. “You’ve just done it. You’ve just opened up and shared something with me, and now I know you a little better.”

“Oh,” Beca said, “I guess I did.”

“I’m sorry for pushing you,” Chloe said. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything, I just needed to know that this wasn’t all one-sided.”

“It isn’t,” Beca said. “And I’m sorry I made you think that.”

Chloe shook her head to let her know it was fine. “I’m glad you came over,” she said. “And I’m glad you shared all that with me.”

“I want to be able to share more,” Beca said. “Be more open, but it might take me some time.”

“That’s okay,” Chloe said. “I can be patient.” Beca raised an eyebrow. “Okay, I suck at being patient, but I can do it for you.”

Beca smiled and felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. “Thank you.” They shared a quick hug before Beca tried, and failed, to stifle a yawn.

“It’s getting pretty late,” Chloe said. “Do you want me to walk you back to your dorm?”

“You don’t need to walk me back,” Beca said. 

“You can’t go on your own.”

“If you walked me back, who would walk you back?” Beca countered. “I can order an Uber or something if it makes you feel better.”

“Or you could stay?” Chloe asked, knowing she might be pushing it a bit. “We could watch a movie or a show or something. I have a double bed. Or a comfy sofa if you’d rather sleep on that. No pressure.”

If anyone else had asked her this, Beca would have said no. How many times had Jesse hounded her about hanging out in his dorm to watch movies with him?

But Beca was surprised to find the idea of watching movies with Chloe was actually appealing. Surprised even more when the thought of sharing a bed with her didn’t fill her full of abject terror, but quite the opposite.

“Okay,” Beca said. 

Chloe beamed. “Yeah?”