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Beca honestly doesn’t know why she keeps dragging herself out of bed in the mornings. It’s not like there’s anything really worth leaving the comfort and warmth of her wonderful bed for, so it’s pretty much a waste of time and energy forcing herself up every morning.
Beca’s bed is good to her. Beca’s bed would never do anything to betray her trust. Beca’s bed would never assign her a ten-page paper on moral epistemology without an ounce of sympathy in its eyes.
But Beca digresses.
So maybe Beca isn’t totally stoked with the whole “college” thing. If anyone were to ask her (which people do- often, in fact) what she thinks of college, Beca would tell them that it’s a waste of time and that she regrets ever applying to Barden University in the first place.
If she’s being honest, Beca doesn’t even know why she applied to so many colleges during her senior year of high school in the first place. To her it was mostly just going through the motions, because that’s just what people do after high school: they graduate high school and then go to college and major in something practical so that they can graduate college and then go do something with their lives that will better society.
That’s just how life works. That’s just what Beca has been taught her entire life.
Still, it doesn’t mean she necessarily has to enjoy it.
But it does mean that she has to get out of bed.
With a groan, Beca fights her way out of her tangled sheets (Beca has always been kind of an aggressive sleeper, but she likes to think of it as giving it her all ) and starts the daily battle of pulling on her skinny jeans, stealing bites of dry Cinnamon Toast Crunch as she gets ready for the day. Beca takes the time to make her hair look casually mussed, pointedly ignoring Kimmy Jin’s judgmental glares before pulling open the door to their dorm and stepping out to start another monotonous day.
* * *
The people at Barden University aren’t terrible looking, Beca supposes. They have their fair share of beauty queens and eye-candy, though most people are decidedly more plain-looking than anything truly spectacular.
Which is a fair analysis of Beca to make, she reasons, since she is part of that average-looking mass.
So when Beca sees the occasional above-average looking individual on campus between classes, she usually feels inclined to enjoy the view. Subtly, of course. Beca Mitchell isn’t exactly one to purposefully make herself the center of attention in any capacity. She prefers to stay in the background as much as possible.
Maybe that’s why Beca enjoys people watching so much; it’s an activity that allows her to quietly observe the world around her without getting involved, which enables her to take in some of the better parts of the college experience. Because, Barden might not necessarily be the most exciting place in the world, but there is definitely always something new to watch whilst sitting under some nice shade, headphones on and good music pumping through.
Which is exactly what Beca is doing when she spots her.
Redheads aren’t usually Beca’s type. It’s not that she necessarily even has a specific type, but if the lack of crushes she’s had on any redheads in her past is any indication, redheads are not usually her type.
Except, the one Beca has been creepily watching for the past ten minutes might make her rethink exactly what her type is entirely.
The girl that has captured Beca’s attention this afternoon sits in the middle of the quad with three other people- one boy, two girls. They all seem like vibrant, interesting people in their own rights, as well as easy on the eyes, but for some reason the redhead is the one in particular that Beca can’t seem to tear her eyes away from.
Beca learns a lot about the girl in about the span of about half an hour- more than is probably considered appropriate, really. If she didn’t know any better, Beca would consider herself a full-blown creep.
Whatever.
Beca’s learned a lot about this redhead. She’s learned that she doesn’t like tomatoes, based on the way that she wrinkles her nose and peels them off her sandwich, giving them to her blonde friend to eat instead. She’s learned that she’s free with her emotions, based on how she laughs freely and fully, loud enough that Beca can vaguely hear her from her sizable distance across the quad. She’s learned that one of the girl’s love languages is most likely touch, based on how much she leans into her friends as she giggles or grips their hands when she’s excited.
So Beca’s learned a lot, which is totally not creepy. It’s just people watching; plenty of people do it.
The time on Beca’s computer tells her that it’s nearly 1:30, which means that it’s time for Beca to head to her next class, so Beca shuts her laptop and shoves it in her bag before standing and walking away from the quad, only allowing herself to glance over at the redhead once more before she leaves.
One more thing Beca has learned in the past half-hour: that girl’s smile has the ability to send a million butterflies swirling in Beca’s stomach.
* * *
So people watching is not creepy, and therefore Beca can’t be classified as a creep for doing so. But if she’s being honest, what she’s been doing lately isn’t so much people watching as it is just person watching.
So yeah, Beca was kind of a creep.
God, she was such a creep.
But somehow Beca couldn’t find it in herself to stop.
The redhead isn’t out on the quad every single day (unlike Beca), and she isn’t always with the same group of people whenever she is there, either. Sometimes she’s only with her blonde friend or her tall brunette friend, and sometimes she’s with at least nine other girls. Sometimes she’s alone, reading or working on homework.
Beca really doesn’t care what the girl is doing- she watches her no matter what.
Beca naturally starts to wonder things about the girl; what’s her name? Is she a Sam or Samantha or Ashley or Hailey? What is her major? Where did she grow up? Is she interested in girls? How many pets did she have as a kid? What’s her favorite color?
Would she want to go out with Beca?
Sure, Beca could just approach the girl and ask her all these things instead of wondering about them by herself, but Beca doesn’t even know how she would start a conversation with her at this point.
Hey, I’ve been watching you from across the quad for like three weeks now and I think you’re beautiful.
Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?
Please go out with me.
Beca doesn’t know where she’d even begin, so she decides to just wait and keep on creeping until she figures it out.
Maybe someday they would actually talk to each other.
* * *
Someday hits Beca square in the gut.
Literally.
Getting kicked in the ribs is decidedly not the greatest way that Beca has ever been woken up, but then again sleeping sprawled out on the grass on the quad where anyone could step on her wasn’t exactly Beca’ s greatest idea.
Beca grunts at the pain in her side and a startled yelp sounds from above her.
“Oh my gosh! I am so sorry! Are you okay?”
Beca opens her eyes, squinting against the harsh sunlight, and looks up at the person who has just assaulted her, prepared to start throwing hands if necessary. Beca’s breath stalls in her throat.
It may be the fact that Beca literally just woke up and is feeling pretty disoriented, but she is pretty positive that an angel stands above her. Which is weird, because Barden University is definitely not the type of place that Beca thought attracted angels.
Yet, as Beca stares up at the beautiful redhead bathed in sunlight staring down at her with the utmost concern, Beca can’t really be sure what she believes anymore.
“Uh,” Beca attempts, her throat feeling incredibly dry all of a sudden.
“I really didn’t mean to kick you,” the girl rushes out, dropping down to her knees beside Beca while Beca slowly rises into a sitting position. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going and I didn’t see you laying down and then suddenly I was just tripping and then I saw that you were there and-”
It takes Beca few moments to find the ability to speak upon the realization that the girl she’s been crushing on for nearly a month is here and talking to her, but Beca immediately cuts in with a wave of her hand as soon as she’s able. “Hey, don’t worry about it, really. It’s, like, totally fine.”
The girl looks uncertainly at Beca. “Are you sure? I can get you some ice, if you need some.”
Beca tries for a reassuring smile. “It’s fine, really. Thank you, though.”
“Oh, alright,” the girl relents shifting as though to get up to leave. Beca starts to feel disappointed and is surely about to say something stupid to get her to stay when the girl simply slides her bag off her shoulders and settles back to sit comfortably in the grass. “Mind if I join you?”
Beca tries not to grin too widely. “Not at all,” she says, watching as she starts pulling out her lunch from her backpack. She can’t help but let the first question fall out of her mouth shortly after. “What’s your name?”
“Chloe,” she answers with a smile, and Beca has to stop herself from repeating the name dreamily in response. Chloe looks up at Beca and suddenly Beca’s breathing catches in her throat again because she didn’t realize just how blue her eyes were. How could she? It was impossible to see just how captivating Chloe’s eyes were from all the way across the quad. Impossible to know how easy it was to be pulled in by them as if she’s drowning in a sea of-
“Are you okay?”
The question jerks Beca out of her trance with a start, forcing her attention back to the present where Chloe is starting at her in concern.
“Sorry, what?” Beca asks Chloe dumbly.
Chloe giggles, and Beca feels as though her soul might ascend. “A little spacey there, are you? I was just wondering what your name is.”
“Oh,” Beca breathes, laughing nervously as heat flares in her cheeks. “It’s, uh, it’s Beca.”
“Beca,” Chloe says, grinning widely. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Beca, even if it was because I stepped on you.”
“I didn’t mind,” Beca says awkwardly, blushing again when Chloe raises an eyebrow at her teasingly before focusing on her lunch.
Beca watches her for a moment before looking pointedly away, not wanting to be creepy or anything.
Because Beca is definitely not creepy.
* * *
Over the next few weeks Beca learns even more about Chloe, though this time it’s in a way that would be deemed more acceptable by society’s standards.
She learns that Chloe is a senior, an English Literature major, and that she wants to teach someday. She struggles with Russian literature and failed it last year, forcing her to retake the class this semester. Her favorite novels are romance novels because she’s a hopeless romantic that believes in love at first sight.
She learns that Chloe grew up in Portland, Oregon and that she has two brothers who both have names that start with the letter ‘C’. She had a family dog growing up that was hit by a car when she was thirteen, and she still gets a little sad upon seeing any dogs to this day.
Chloe’s favorite color is yellow. Chloe’s favorite movie is The Notebook. Chloe has a little scar on her forehead from when she was two and pulled a stocking off the wall, causing the nail in the wall to hit her face. Chloe’s favorite princess is Ariel because she played her in a musical in middle school. Chloe prefers sunrises over sunsets, chocolate over vanilla, phone calls over texts, and waffles over pancakes.
All these things are things that Chloe tells Beca either because Beca asks about them or because Chloe offers up the information. They’re all material things that could be categorized and put down in a list on a word document- simple as that.
And Beca loves all of that about Chloe, but there are other things that she loves more; things that are not so easy to put down into words.
Chloe can’t help but cry when other people cry out of empathy.
When she’s stressed, a little crease appears between her eyebrows that is easily fixed when Beca rubs a thumb lightly over it.
Chloe gets sad when she sees a person in need that she can’t help.
Chloe’s hugs feel like home.
Chloe’s kisses taste like love.
Chloe coming undone is possibly the most beautiful thing in the world.
And honestly, one thing that Beca doesn’t know is how things happened between them. One minute she’d been staring at Chloe from across the campus, and the next she was watching her sleep in Beca’s bed. She doesn’t think she could describe how it all happened if anyone were to ask (which they have).
But Beca doesn’t mind.
Beca doesn’t mind a lot of things now, actually.
Like how Chloe hogs the sheets at night and forces her to watch dumb movies. Like how Beca never really used to be a cuddler, but is now an avid fan of it. Like how Chloe texts Beca to meet her at the quad on Beca’s days off so they can have lunch together.
Because the thing is, Beca thinks as she spots Chloe across the campus, sun shining down on her in all her morning glory, it’s kind of nice to have at least one thing worth leaving her bed in the morning for.