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Chapter Text

January

I stand outside the club, the pulsations of bass reverberating through my whole body. I angrily blow smoke into the night time air. My boyfriend, Jesse, blew me off (yet again) today, on new year's eve of all days. He had promised he'd come with me and all of my friends, however I still received a blunt yet apologetic text from him, claiming he had to work late.

I huff angrily and indignantly before I stub out my cigarette under the toe of my high heeled ankle boots, tucking long brown hair behind my piercing-covered ear, reentering the club, searching out my group of friends. I quickly find all of them.

All of my pals are with a significant other, grinding with them on the dance floor or ordering drinks for each other, kissing and hand holding. It makes me both jealous and sick to my stomach. Why does Jesse have to work all the time?

Now I'm going to be all alone with no one to kiss when the ball drops. Everyone else will be sucking face while I will be standing there awkwardly, an involuntary lone wolf.

Stupid Jesse and his stupid work.

My friends greet me and we all huddle together on the dance floor.

"Happy New Year's Eve!" someone exclaims. Everyone lifts their drink in unison, except me, because of course I don't have a drink. Jesse always gets the drinks. But Jesse isn't here, I remind myself bitterly.

I sigh heavily and excuse myself to get one. Head already throbbing from the overwhelming smell of axe body-spray that seems inescapable, I stroll towards the bar and press myself against the dark oak island. I'm really not in the party mood.

"What can I get you?" asks the bartender, adjusting his thick lensed glasses.

"I'll take a screwdriver please," I order, leaning across the bar. He nods and turns around to prepare it. He slides my drink across and tells me the price, which I pay, whilst grumbling about expensiveness and money aggressively.

I return to my friends as a live stream of Time's Square appears on all of the tv screens dotted around the packed club. The silver ball hangs in the air like a wrecking ball and I half expect to see Miley Cyrus atop it. However, unfortunately, I don't.

10!

The tall presenter calls out, starting the countdown. People in the club cheer and clap obnoxiously and everyone shouts out the numbers with gusto in unison.

9!

Most people are facing their lovers and girlfriends and boyfriends and best friends, preparing to kiss.

8!

I pretend to fiddle with my jet black nails, looking for something to do.

7!

Everyone leans closer.

6!

Everyone except me.

5!

Hands link, grasp at napes of necks, hang at sides, hold on to faces.

4!

Lips part.

3!

Eyes squeeze closed.

2!

A slender finger gently prods my shoulder, insistent.

1!

I whirl around. In the faint, shimmering lights of the bar, I only just about make out the outline of a tall girl looming over me, intimidatingly close, with all the right curves in all the right places. Her fiery red hair drapes past her shoulders, perfectly curled. Striking pale blue eyes that remind me of nostalgic early morning skies meet mine, a slight glimmer sparkling in them. The ginger grins widely. She is absolutely gorgeous.

0!

The mesmerising stranger, in one fluid motion, gently grabs my jaw and a handful of my long chestnut locks, tilts my head up, leans down to close the considerable height difference between us and ghosts her lips over mine, soft as clouds, holding them together for what feels like hours.

Really it's only a few seconds, while everyone else also kisses and then cheers, throwing their arms in the air in a celebration of the new year.

I stay where I am, lips locked with the red head's, too flabbergasted to do anything but kiss her back and slide my hands from the tall girl's perfectly shaped hips, round to the small of her back, pulling her closer, thoroughly enjoying the feel of the stranger pressed against me.

Who is this girl?

Eventually the ginger decides to end our kiss, pulling away, lingering slightly, hot breath mixing in the very, very, slight space between us. Her eyes flutter open, that grin still plastered on her face. She sucks in a breath, tasting smoke and ash.

"You're welcome," she chirps before spinning around and darting off.

I am still struggling to remember to breathe, eyes wide with shock. I open and close my mouth like I'm doing a bad goldfish impression.

"Happy New Year!" my friends crow in sync.

And it sure is a hell of a way to start the year.

Chapter Text

February

It is the day before Valentine's Day when I bustle into the sweet smelling bakery, a bell tinkling melodically as the door swings open. The list of chores for the day are starting to majorly stack up and I silently pray that this one will be quick and simple, then maybe I could even grab a bite to eat for lunch next door at McDonalds.

I thankfully smile at the lack of queue in front of the counter and stride forwards, staring at the order receipt in my hand, trying to decode it, eyebrows furrowed.

I slide it across the surface.

"Hi, I'm supposed to be picking up an order under the name of Kimmy Lin," I explain, pointing at it with a painted nail. I look up smiling shyly-

"Holy shit," I breathe, my heart beginning to beat faster at the sight of the woman serving me.

The gorgeous ginger cocks an eyebrow coyly, smirking lopsidedly.

"Yeah, I have that effect on people sometime's," she chuckles, but her eyes light up in recognition as she shakes her head and looks down at the thin piece of paper.

"Uh, sorry, I wasn't really supposed to say that out loud," I apologise, a deep blush staining my pale cheeks. "But it's you from New Year's Eve right? You're the g-" I stop herself from uttering the words 'gorgeous stranger', swallowing the lump in my throat as I halt another embarrassing situation in it's tracks. "The girl who, you know..."

"Who kissed you?" she finishes for me.

"Yeah." An awkward silence settles over us like a thick layer of dust.

"So you work here then?" I ask, desperate to fill the warm air with noise.

"Nah, I just occasionally come back here and serve people, it's more of a hobby," she sarcastically replies, smiling playfully.

"Whatever," I hiss through a grin. Another silence. "So, like, this might be an awkward question but why did you, like, kiss me before?"

"It was obvious neither of us had someone to kiss when the ball dropped, I figured, why not," the red head nonchalantly states, shrugging. "It was no biggie."

"Oh, right, yeah, of course," I agree, bouncing on the balls of my feet like a child, thickly lined eyes blinking rapidly. "No biggie," I mirror. I nervously fidget on the spot whilst the baker turns around to get my order, organising it into a neat stack and stuffing it in a plastic bag before placing it to the side. "Thanks I guess."

The ginger looks up suddenly from whatever she was doing with those hands to grin widely at me. Those hands that had grabbed me in such a way the previous month-

I stop. Mind out of the gutter Beca I scold myself. I have a kind, loving boyfriend waiting for me back at my apartment. I can't think these things.

"So," the cheerful girl begins. "You're, um, Kimmy Lin? Because no offence, but you don't look like much of a Kimmy Lin."

"Well that's racist," I point out with an accusatory finger aimed at the taller, tanner girl. "But no, Kimmy Lin is just a friend. I'm Beca," I introduce myself, waving oddly.

"I like that name."

"Thanks." We smile sheepishly. What was the code for talking to girls you may have made out with once but, like, only so no one got embarrassed on New Year's? What was the code if you were kind of attracted to them but you still had a super cool, super nice boyfriend? What was the code if it was the day before Valentine's and you just want to invite a certain red head for drinks the next day instead of doing some painfully boring, romantic task with your boyfriend?

She is still fiddling with something, bottom lip clenched between her teeth in concentration. I lean against the counter lazily.

"I bet your name is better though."

"Is that your subtle way of asking what my name is?" the confident girl giggles. Unashamedly, I nod vigorously. "You're going to have to try a lot harder than that I'm afraid."

"Hmmm, what about; I've lost my name, can I have yours?" I playfully offer. We both cackle with laughter.

"Way too cheesy!"

"I am not cheesy!" I protest loudly. "I'm romantic."

The baker shakes her head, laughing to herself, packaging something into a box, folding the lid down with expertise, not even looking away from my dark blue eyes as she does so.

"If you say so," she singsongs in response.

"Because ambushing me with a make out sesh was really romantic wasn't it?"

"You certainly weren't complaining," she counters, raising an eyebrow in acknowledgement that she's got me there.

"Fair point," I agree, nodding. "1-0 to you, mystery girl, 1-0." She smiles sweetly at the pet name, placing my order on the counter along with a small box.

"On the house," she murmurs, hovering close to my ear, followed by a cheeky wink.

"Thank you, that's really nice," I gratefully reply, picking it all up and heading out the door, throwing a lopsided grin over my shoulder as I leave.

It isn't until later on, settled in the corner of my couch that I discover something completely compelling and enchanting.

Inside the box is a heart shaped sugar cookie, coated in candy-floss pink icing that makes me crave fair grounds.

And delicately scrawled across it is the stranger's phone number in teeth-rotting red icing.

Chapter Text

March

It takes me a week to gather the courage to text the nameless ginger.

I don't know why. It's not like she is that important to me. She is just an acquaintance.

So far.

And it's not like she is basically all I can think about, it's not like I can't shut my eyes without seeing flame red hair. It's not like there had been a few very concerning dreams including the stranger.

But that's not the point.

So seven days after I got her number in the most delicious of ways, I stop opening and closing her contact and leave it open, the daunting title of 'Cute Stranger' burnt into my mind as I hit the little text button.

Another seven days later (including two advice filled conversations with my best friend) and a text is prepped to be sent.

'Hey stranger :)' it reads.

Before I could change my mind once again, I forcefully push the send button, gulping down any regret.

Why was I getting so worked up over a text? I'd never fretted that much over a text to Jesse.

Jesse, who had prepared the cutest picnic on valentines day with champagne and delicious food. (But no heart shaped sugar cookies.)

I shake my head, trying to erase any bad thoughts. I bury my face in my couch pillow, closing my eyes,

Just as sleep is embracing me, sliding my eyes closed, I am startled awake by the violent 'buzz' of my phone as it vibrates.

'Hey yourself :)' the screen reads. I desperately swipe at it, anxious to text her back as soon as possible.

'So I don't actually have a name for your contact,' I reply. 'Care to give me a hand?"

"Nah, I like this air of mystery I've got going.'

'You're annoying.'

'Tell me something I don't know.'

Our playful banter is interrupted by the racket of Jesse returning home to our shared apartment, arms full of Chinese take out. I grin ecstatically, taking some dishes from his grip and taking their lids off.

"Hey Becs," he coos, pressing a slobbery kiss on my cheek. I wipe it away when he turns around.

"Hey, how was work?" I question.

"The usual, you know?" he replies, running a hand through his hair and shrugging, completely disengaged with the conversation, his only focus the food in front of him.

He's kind of a dickhead but we've been together nearly a year now and he pays half of the rent.

Not to mention he's kind, romantic, sensitive.

Funny.

The thing is though-

He's not the ginger stranger.

And that thought makes the biggest sigh rack through my body, making my toes bend and my nose scrunch up in a way most people would find unattractive, but not Jesse.

Jesse and I met in the strangest of occurrences.

"Who the fuck," I muttered to myself, throwing the door of my dad's house open. There stood a skinny, fluffy haired guy, nervously shuffling from foot to foot.

"Do you know what time it is?!" I screeched, keeping my voice as low as possible.

"Um, it's 3am," he stammered.

"Oh great, so you're not a complete idiot then?" I asked him. It was a rhetoric question but he still nodded, then shook his head, changing his mind, before changing it back again and nodding. "Well?" His face was completely blank. "Can I help you or?"

"Um, I have your cat." He whispered it as if was some kind of top secret. For the first time I noticed the pure white fluff-ball in his arms and the assortment of scratches covering him.

"Where did you find him?" I asked, taking my furry monster back, jiggling him like a baby, making shushing noises in his ear.

"In my shed, he got stuck I think."

"And you came all the way here at three in the morning?" He nodded. "To return my cat?" Again, he nodded.

"That's actually really sweet. Do you want to come in?"

From there it was effortless.

We had an immediate connection and love from then on.

At least I thought it was love, until I met that one girl who wouldn't get out of my mind no matter how hard I tried to evict her.

Was it love?

Chapter Text

April

I can't remember why the argument started.
I can't remember when the argument started.

I didn't remember to grab an umbrella before I left either, so now I'm stood in the middle of the path outside my apartment, tears and rain water swirling together on my face like paint, (damn you April Showers, even on the 31st you thrive) forming the colour of sadness. I crouch on the floor and bury my face in my hands, sobbing uncontrollably. I'm homeless for the night.

I can't call anyone, all the friends I have I only know through Jesse, (except Kimmy Lin, but she's at her parents' house until tomorrow) they'd all take his side in a heartbeat. It's pathetic, I don't have a home, friends, food.

Or an umbrella.

There is only one person I know that isn't through Jesse, but would they really help me out at a time like this? Can I really call her?

Do I have a choice?

I make a snap decision and call her, pressing the contact labelled 'Cute Stranger.' Patiently, I wait, while my phone chirps out the ringing sound.

I'm about to give up, muttering "c'mon. c,'mon, please," to myself, when a familiar voice pipes up.

"Beca?" It asks.

"Yeah, it's me," I confirm, nodding although she can't see me, wiping away hot tears and pushing soaked strands of hair away from my face. I sniffle loudly.

"Are you okay? You don't sound okay. Do you need me to come get you from somewhere?" Concern strains her voice as she fires questions at me.

"Please," is all I have to say before the ginger is ordering me to stay exactly where I am and to stay safe until she arrives. I give her the address and she lets me know she'll be here in five before hanging up.

She wasn't lying.

Five minutes of violent shivering and crying, and then in a screech of sliding tires and brakes, my knight in shining armour pulls over, except her shining armour is a silver range rover, and she's more of a princess than a knight. And... she's in her pyjamas.

She leaps out the car, racing over to me. The red head throws a protective arm around me, escorting me to her car, throwing open the passenger side door and helping me clamber in before hopping in the driver's side, getting absolutely soaked in the process.

"S-sorry," I stutter as hot tears continually spill down my flushed face.

"What for?" she enquires, eyebrows furrowing in concern as she glances at me out the corner of her eye, pulling away and driving a safe speed through the torrential rain, wipers swiping at the windscreen relentlessly.

"Well, you're in your pyjamas, I probably woke you up, and I've probably ruined your evening and I barely know you but you're the only person I could think of," I ramble on. I sniff loudly. The tall girl smirks. "I could think of calling," I correct myself as a crimson blush creeps up my neck. "And now you're all soaked and I probably owe you gas money now and-"

"Hey, take a breath. I really don't mind," she reassures me. "I'm your friend, okay? This is what friends are for." I nod gratefully. "As if I'd leave you on the streets," she laughs.

"Normally friends know each other's names," I point out, smiling in what feels like the first time in forever.

"Chloe." She gauges my reaction out the corner of her eye.

"I told you your name would be better!" I exclaim, throwing my hands in the air in fake exasperation. The humour doesn't last long. Tears soon return.

Soon enough we're inside Chloe's apartment. She's placed a warming mug of tea in my hand which I'm sipping at gratefully from the ginger's bed, where she insists we sit and talk.

I relive the argument with her, trying to recall how it started. We have a long conversation about the uselessness of men and she has almost instantly cheered me up, lending me the cosiest. flannel pyjamas, making me the nicest. sweetest tea, listening to me and all my complaints. I feel like royalty, the way I'm being treated.

If only I could stop crying.

"Are you two done then?" Chloe asks, trying to be sensitive. I wheeze through another sob.

"I think so," I confirm between sniffs and tears, nodding remorsefully. Although, to be honest I'm quite grateful. Things between me and him haven't been the best, what with my sudden infatuation with the very woman sat in very (very) close proximity to me.

"Poor baby," coos the taller girl as she wraps her arms around me, pulling me closer so I'm practically sat on her legs. rubbing my back therapeutically. She caresses repetitive circles, slipping her hand under the borrowed shirt to trace the shapes against my bare skin, feeling every scar, bump and imperfection. "Poor baby Beca." She rests her chin on my shoulder and murmurs encouragements in my ear, clippings of "so strong" and "deserve better" and "asshole Jesse."

I burrow my face into the crook of her neck, breathing in lungfuls of the strong smell of vanilla and cinnamon. It's such a Chloe type of smell and it heats me from the inside out, a spiral of warmth that starts in my stomach and spreads outwards like someone's lit a fire in my abdomen.

I cry even harder. She's such a lovely person. She barely knows me yet she's taken me in, given me tea, cuddled me, made me feel so much better, listened to my rants about Jesse.

"Thank you," I breathe against her neck. pressing a sloppy kiss there, just below her pulse point.

She simply smiles in response, leaning back, holding on to my shoulders as she looks intently into my eyes. "You look tired," she observes. "Let's get you to sleep." She twists her legs out from under me awkwardly and pulls back the blanket to let me lie down.

"Hey, no, I can't steal your bed!" I object. "I can sleep on the couch, or even on the floor somewhere, you don't have to do this."

"I don't have to but I want to," Chloe insists. She pulls the blanket over me and tucks me in, just like a loving mother, before kissing my forehead gently and turning to leave, switching off the light. She's about to slip out the door.

"Wait-" I stop her. She halts, turning around slowly. "Don't go please. Just, stay here with me. There's room for you in this bed, we can share it easily."

"It's a single bed Beca."

"But I'm small." Chloe nods in agreement and bites her bottom lip as she thinks.

"Okay, fair enough, budge over," she gives in, closing the door as she fully re-enters the room. She slips into bed beside me and I'm engulfed yet again in the subtle vanilla and cinnamon smell.

I curl up into her side, trying to stay as close to the wall as possible to give her space, whilst trying to get as close to Chloe at the same time.

Thirty minutes passes before I speak up again. "I can't sleep." She smooths my hair down against my head, pushing curls out of my face, tucking them behind my ears ever so gently. I've never felt so vulnerable with a stranger before.

The ginger clears her throat. Blinking slowly I turn around to face the wall. The former stranger scoots closer behind me. She begins softly, ever so softly, singing in my ear, hot breath tickling my neck.

"You shout it out, but I can't hear a word you say." I recognise it immediately as titanium. It sounds like an actual angel from heaven has come down and started singing to me, the beautiful voice in my ear is incomparable. I sigh loudly, content. "I'm talking loud, not saying much."

Dreary with sleep, my eyes flutter closed as I sink further into the mattress, feeling safer and more at home than I ever did with Jesse.

"You're such a pretty person Chloe," I grumble. "With a pretty voice too." I'm not sure if she's heard me or if she thinks I'm asleep but she continues quietly singing.

Very soon I'm fast asleep.

Chapter Text

May

May starts in an odd way.

The first of May and I wake up curled around a girl from behind, my arms around her waist, interlocked at her bellybutton. Orange hair like fire tickles my nose.

I yawn, trying to be as still as possible as I remember the previous night.

Jesse.

Fight.

(K)night.

Tea.

Titanium.

Safe.

Chloe.

I need to somehow remove myself from the comforting (and comfortable) girl. I'm sure I saw a sign for a communal bathroom down the hall and a nice, warm shower sounds exactly like what I need.

First I slide my arms out from around her, dragging them slowly and silently back, praying I don't rouse her. It's a success. Then I edge towards the foot of the bed, sliding out with as much grace as an elephant before gathering my clothes and borrowing a towel.

I'm sure Chloe won't mind.

Slipping out the door, I locate the showers and head towards them. Luckily, they're all completely empty. It smells kind of like mould and the drains dotted around the off-white tiled floor are coated in rust. I choose a cubicle, hanging my towel from the hook opposite the shower head.

"Crap," I mumble to myself, realising I don't have any shampoo or conditioner, etc. I find a machine that dispenses them and stuff a crumpled note from my jeans pocket in, pressing a series of confusing buttons, hoping for the best. Three small bottles are ejected with a clank.

Finally I can shower. I return to my cubicle after balancing my clothes on the sink counter, letting the steamy air cleanse me of all the bad feelings from the night before, the droplets of warm water washing away snail trails of tear stains and smudged and messy makeup.

"I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose, fire away, fire away," I sing as the water cascades down me. I shower quickly, the song slipping from my lips effortlessly. I don't sound half as good as Chloe did the previous night, but I carry on anyway, swaying to the rhythm.

I switch off the water flow and grab my towel, drying myself quickly before pulling it around myself, holding it in place with my one free hand. I wonder if there's a hair dryer anywhere. I push the slimy curtain open.

"Holy crap," I exclaim. Inches from my face stands Chloe, a stack of clothes in hand, a dangerously short towel wrapped around her. I throw my hands in the air in surprise, my shampoo and conditioner clattering to the floor nosily, along with my towel. I yelp in shock and embarrassment, hastily bending over to grab my towel back up and to cover myself as best as possible, trying to salvage my modesty.

The ginger has that charismatic grin plastered on her face as per usual. She giggles at me adorably in my flustered state, face flushed ruby red. "Um, hi?" I say unsurely, more of a question than a statement.

"Sorry, I totally didn't mean to scare you, I just heard your voice and I thought it was really, really great. Like, American Idol worthy," she compliments me.

"Are you kidding me?" I squeal. "Have you heard your voice? I've never met anyone who can sing like you do." It's the ginger's turn to blush. She sheepishly smiles and shakes her head.

"That's really sweet. I don't think anyone's ever said something so nice to me."

"Obviously you've been hanging out with wrong people then," I reply, shyly staring at my feet. It's kind of distracting having to look at Chloe when she's so... exposed.

"Is that an invitation to hang out with you?" she questions, tilting her head to the side curiously, smiling widely.

"Well I do kind of owe you one, you kind of saved my ass last night," I point out, tilting my head to match hers, strands of wet hair tickling my shoulder.

"That's what friends are for, right?" she responds. I grin at the red head. Friends. I'm infinitely lucky to have someone like her want to be my friend.

"Right." A pregnant pause hangs in the steamy air between us. "Anyway," I awkwardly shake my head. "I should probably, um, get dressed." Suddenly I am very aware of how naked I am, only a fluffy white towel between myself and Chloe's wide blue eyes.

"You can go get changed back in my room if you want, I left the door unlocked," she offers.

"That'd be great, thanks." The tall girl ducks into a shower stall. "Thanks for the towel by the way," I throw over my shoulder as I leave, traipsing back to her room.

I quickly and efficiently get dressed, pulling yesterdays clothes on. I stand in front of her mirror, checking myself out.

I'm dressed in a cropped leather jacket that cuts off at the waist, a maroon tank top and jet black skinny jeans that cling to every inch of my skin. They're still kind of damp from the previous night but they're all I have.

I ring Kimmy Lin. She's home now and I can crash at hers until I find a place to stay permanently. However much I've loved spending so much alone time with Chloe, I fear I've already overstayed my welcome already.

I find a scrap of paper and a pen and scrawl out a note in tiny, slanted handwriting.

I.O.U Coffee sometime.

I take a final look round the room to make sure I haven't left anything behind (other than my dignity) and then I leave. As I exit the building a soft voice floats from the bathrooms.

"I am Titanium."

Chapter Text

June

Crashing with Kimmy Lin is becoming too much to handle. The constant complaining and nagging for a whole month from my friend is slowly driving me crazy, but luckily I finally find a place. It's fairly cheap, central location, good facilities. It's slightly rough around the edges, sure, but it is a place to stay, a bed to sleep in. A place to call my own.

A place without Kimmy Lin.

And strangely, the building is incredibly familiar. Something about it rings a very, very loud bell in my mind. I'd definitely been before. But that is completely irrelevant, as far as I'm concerned.

When I first pull up on my motorcycle those alarm bells are ringing again but I ignore them, pushing them to the side as I park. I hop off my ride, swinging my leg over and pulling my helmet off.

All I have with me is one suitcase, strapped to the back of the bike, and a backpack, but that's all I need.

I saunter inside, spinning my brand new key ring with my brand new key around my index finger.

Room 534. I find it quickly, hopping out the elevator and dragging my belongings behind me. I push the door open with my shoulder and look around. It's a pretty decent room. There's a metal, single bed frame and slightly frayed mattress pushed against the right wall with a wardrobe on the left side of the room. The floor is covered in plush, lavender carpet.

But why is it so familiar?

I flop down on my stiff mattress, pulling my laptop out of my bag and plugging it in after changing into my pyjamas, a pair of dark green flannel shorts and a black tank top, pulling my hair up into a messy bun at the top of my head.

I waste the day away watching Netflix in my brand new room.

When I look at my clock and realise it's 11pm I hop out of bed and grab a towel before I head for the showers, remembering to bring my key with me.

I open my room door, looking left down the narrow corridor.

There's a girl leaning against a room door, forehead pressed to the cold pinewood surface, banging her fist against it, an aggravated growl ripping from her throat.

She's only wearing underwear, a pair of black lacy pants and an equally lacy bra. My eyes travel from her turquoise painted toes to her long, slender legs, up to her toned stomach, memorising the dip and curve of her collarbones, gazing at the curve of her nose, the frustration behind her pale blue eyes, her ginger hair-

"Chloe?" I call. She whirls around in shock.

"Beca?"

Suddenly it's all flooding back. That's why I recognised the building! It's the ginger's apartment complex too. And it looks like she's the room next door! What a coincidence.

"What are you doing? And why are you... not dressed?" I wonder aloud. I avert my eyes from her as she wipes hot tears of anger from her eyes. "Are you okay?"

"I-I don't know," she admits, pressing her palm to her forehead. She tucks the stray wisps of fiery hair hanging from her loose bun behind her ear. "I managed to lock myself out of my room."

"In your underwear?" I smirk.

"I was doing laundry. Doesn't matter, I'm pretty confident about all of this," she explains, gesturing at herself and winking slightly. My heart stops and speeds up all at the same time.

"You should be." We stand there, smiling at each other for what seems like forever. "I just moved in next door actually," I tell Chloe, pointing at my room door over my shoulder with my thumb.

"Really? I'll have to take you up on that coffee I.O.U sometime then," she says.

"I guess so," I agree. "Maybe we should get you some clothes first though," I suggest playfully. She laughs and oh my god it's the most perfect laugh I've ever heard. My heart flutters wildly as my breath hitches in my throat.

"Well my key is inside my room, and I'm outside my room and the door is locked," Chloe points out, eyebrows raised.

"No problem," I brush her off. I squat in front of her door. I can't help but feel the red head's stare burn into me as I do. I pull a hair pin from my messy hair and stick it in her lock.

After about five minutes of prodding, moving and clicking I finally manage to pick her lock. The handle moves when i twist it and I push her door open with ease.

"Voila!"

"How- Why- But-" the confident woman stammered. "That is both extremely concerning and impressive, all at the same time!"

"What can I say," I shrug. "I'm a woman of many talents," I joke, smirking at Chloe's face, mouth gaping, eyes wide with shock.

"I don't think I owe you coffee anymore."

"You do owe me an explanation of how you can do that!" she protests, folding her arms over her almost bare chest.

"Fair point, how about over coffee? Tomorrow?" I offer. She grins and nods vigorously.

"It's a date." She waves goodbye and retreats into her room, giving me a final smile before shutting her door.

I fist pump in celebration. I'm going for coffee with Chloe.

I dance down the hallway towards the showers, grinning and singing loudly, not caring who hears as those three words play in my head over and over and over again.

"It's a date."

Chapter Text

July

Colds are supposed to be for winter, right?

But apparently my body is as much of a rebel as me because although bright sunshine is pouring through my window, penetrating the stale, warm air, my nose is running faster than Usain Bolt as I sniffle desperately, adding another used tissue to the trash can next to my bed.

I guess I really don't like abiding by the rules.

My head pounds obnoxiously as I groan in pain, rolling over and burying my face into my pillow, curled up, back against the wall.

The wall that separates me from Chloe.

Chloe, the girl who constantly consumes my thoughts and the girl who's firecracker hair glows whenever I close my eyes, brightening the inside of my eyelids. I groan again, annoyed that I've got it so bad for her.

I trace my fingertips down the wall, wondering if she's thinking about me.

Of course she's not. Why would a girl like her be thinking about a girl like me? She wouldn't.

We've barely spoken since we went out for coffee. It was a really nice time and we had a long talk, but to be completely honest I found it extremely difficult to focus on what she was saying when her face was so alight with energy and when she was leaning forwards over the table, resting her chin in her hands, elbows leaning on the table.

We've texted a lot, sure, and had small chats in the bathroom while we dry our hair or in the hallway, but other than that, nothing. Chloe is really busy studying for important exams and I'm too busy with my new job at the local music store, stacking CDs all day. It's a boring task but it pays the bills.

I wipe at my nose with a tissue.

Why do I have to be so sick? I should be outside on the grass, having a nice time in the sunshine!

Maybe I should even be at the park.

Maybe I could have a picnic.

With Chloe.

And maybe we would get tipsy on cheap champagne and then maybe-

I stop myself. These thoughts aren't healthy.

I sit up in bed, yawning even though I've been in bed all day and it's only 3pm. I push a hard drive into my laptop labelled 'mix 3' and press play. A quiet and calming mash up of a number of songs including titanium tinkles out of the machine.

"Shit," I spit as my nose begins to tickle. Another sneezing fit is definitely on the way. I'm 100% correct.

"AAAAA-CHOOO!" I sneeze so hard I'm surprised my window doesn't shatter.

"AAAAAAAAA-CHOOOOO!" Another. I squeeze my eyes shut and sit for at least five minutes of non stop sneezing and wheezing. Eventually they stop and I lift my face away from the pile of tissues in my hands and throw them all in the bin.

A series of feeble knocks reverberate through the room.

"It's open!" I call. The door opens a crack and a glowing face angelically framed by red curls peers in.

"Hey, it's just me," she assures me in a hushed tone.

"Hiya! Feel free to come in," I invite her inside, kicking my tissue bin under my bed. "Sorry, I'm kind of a mess right now."

"Yeah, you sound very ill," agrees Chloe, nodding. "Your sneezes are violent! Which is why I brought chicken noodle soup over." My eyes light up.

"You didn't!"

"Oh I did!" She enters the room fully, holding a tray of soup, orange juice and tea. She kicks the door shut behind her and places the tray in front of me. "You don't have to have any of it obviously, I just felt bad for you, you sound and look awful."

"Gee thanks," I grin.

"Shut up," she playfully orders me, pushing my shoulder as she sits herself at the foot of my bed crosslegged.

"You can't push me I'm sick," I complain.

"I just did!" she retorts. I stick my tongue out at her immaturely. "Is there anything else I can get you?"

"No this is more than enough, thank you so much. You're too nice to me," I gratefully decline, pulling the tray of food closer to me and having a spoonful of soup. "I'm sorry if my sneezes have been disturbing your studying."

"They haven't it's fine, I need a break from studying anyway." She shifts slightly. The sudden silence is broken by my mix beginning to play again, looping back to the beginning. I eat my soup while Chloe cocks her head to the side. "This isn't the original is it?" she asks, humming along to titanium.

"No, it's a mix I made," I shyly admit.

"You're joking!" I shake my head. "It's amazing." I smile at the ginger. "You look exhausted."

"I am," I confirm, yawning to punctuate my point. "Can't sleep though."

"I'll fix that!" the red head decides. She takes my tray and places it on the floor before closing my blinds. The taller girl pulls my blanket up over me and lowers the volume of my music until it's silent before perching on the edge of my bed, stroking my head lovingly. "Close your eyes," she breathes. I obey. She continues to run her hand through my hair in a gentle rhythm. My breathing slows until my chest is rising and falling in sync with hers as she stretches her legs out along side mine, protectively pressed against me, her thigh pressed against mine, our hips joined.

"I've got my ticket for long way round, two bottles of whiskey for the way," she softly sings.

I fall asleep to the sound of her voice yet again.

Chapter Text

August

It's a painfully hot day. I'm only wearing a pair of short denim shorts and a tight black tank top that clings to my too warm skin yet still, sweat gathers at the nape of my neck. I sit in front of my fan.

"Beep boop, I am a robot," I say into the whirling machine, laughing at the way it makes my voice sound.

The best thing about summer isn't the lovely weather. It's not the fan voices either. It's definitely not the abundance of youths on vacation from school running around either.

The best thing about summer is that the energetic and lively Chloe is always coming around. She claims it's because she doesn't have a fan and I have, like, one in every corner of the room, but I swear I saw a glimpse of one under her bed the other day when I was looking for one of my mixes.

The ginger has taken a real liking to my music mash ups as well. She's currently blasting them and I can usually hear them playing through the wall. It makes my day a lot better when ever I can.

Not as much better as when I actually see Chloe herself and we go for a walk or we watch Netflix together or we just sit in front of the fans pretending to be robots like children.

But still better.

A frantic knock sounds from the entrance to my room.

"It's open!" I expect it's Chloe. She doesn't usually knock but the last time she burst in there was a very awkward situation involving big heads and pyjama t-shirts, so she does this time.

The door swings open.

I was right, it is the energetic red head, but she looks manic and nervous, jigging on the spot.

"Hey, are you okay?" I question, concern covering my face like a mask.

"Yeah. No. Kind of," she struggles, twisting her fingers around each other anxiously.

"What's up?"

"I went for a really long drive last night because I had to think about... stuff." Her face flushes when she says that and she suddenly has a very keen interest in her shoes.

"And then when I got back it was really dark and I was tired so I just parked on the street because it's a really big car and I didn't think I could fit it in my space when I was half asleep and then this morning I went out there and my car is gone and I think it got towed and my phone was inside it and I'm supposed to be meeting Aubrey for coffee, like-" the ginger paused to check her watch before continuing to ramble wildly. "Right now, but I can't tell her I'm not going to be there because I don't have my phone so could I borrow yours so ring her and then also to ring the tow company please?"

"Woah! Breathe Chloe!" I hold out my hands to her, trying to calm her down. She inhales deeply, shaking slightly. "I've got a better idea okay?" I'm completely aware of how stuck up Aubrey is and I know she'll freak out on Chloe if she bails. "I'll drive you and while you're at coffee with Aubrey I'll see if I can find your car okay?" The red head nods.

"You have a car?" she enquires.

"Even better." I pull my helmet out from under my bed and place it over Chloe's head carefully, pushing her hair out of her face. "I've got a motorcycle." I grin at the terrified look on her face. "C'mon," I encourage her, grabbing her hand and dragging her out of my room and down the stairs to the garage.

My bike is practically my only treasured possession other than my laptop. It's shiny black coat shimmers in the bright sunshine.

"Of course, of course, you, Beca effin Mitchell, have a motorcycle." She put on a weird voice, imitating me. "My name is Beca and I'm too alternative for cars!"

"I don't sound like that!" I protest, smacking at Chloe's arms. "Now let's go or you're going to be really late and then Aubrey might kill us both!" I point out.

"Good point. But don't you need a helmet?" she asks.

"Too cool for helmets. Plus, your face is more valuable than mine," I observe.

"Valuable?"

"That's what I said."

"Is that your way of calling me pretty?" she teases, grinning.

"Maybe." I swing my leg over my bike. "Hop on." She does, gracefully mounting the bike like a pro. "Hang on tight." She doesn't need any encouragement to do that, she's pressed right up against my back, arms tightly wound around me, her chin resting on my shoulder. Her warm, peppermint breath tickles my ear and it hitches when I kick up the stand and start the engine. It purrs to life. "Scared?" I ask.

"Mmhmm," is all she manages to say.

"You should be." And with that, the engine roars to life and we're zooming off, out of the garage and down the road.

"Left here," the ginger whispers into my ear through clenched teeth. I take the turn, waiting a little bit longer than I should so the turn is sharper. Chloe squeals and pulls me even closer. I laugh. "You're such a brat Beca!" she screeches when I accelerate more than necessary just to get the ginger's heart pounding and so she holds on to me that little bit closer.

Because, I'm not going to lie, the feeling of her pressed up against me is really great.

Eventually Chloe loosens up a bit and starts yelping with joy and excitement instead of fear, but she still grips me oh so tightly, like if she doesn't she might fly away.

I pull up next to the coffee shop, her heart returning to it's normal pace as the adrenalin fades away. "Your stop, m'lady," I joke. She slides off the bike, pulling off her helmet, enchantingly shaking her curls free. She kisses me on the cheek and pushes the helmet into my grip.

And then it's my hearts turn to beat faster.

Chapter Text

September

September is the month I discover Orphan Black.

I watch all of seasons 1 and 2 on Netflix before watching the small amount of season 3 that's been released online.

When Saturday comes and it's time for season 3 episode 5 I'm practically squealing with delight. I set my alarm for the middle of the night and find a link to stream it live. I have a stash of popcorn and my laptop is fully charged, and I'm even wearing my comfiest pyjamas, my dark green flannel shorts and black tank top.

Nothing could go wrong.

Yet still, when my alarm goes off five minutes before it's about to go live, I find myself in a panic.

My laptop is malfunctioning massively.

"What do you mean webpage cannot load?" I grumble at the inanimate object. "Don't do this no, no, no, please don't do this!" The stupid laptop ignores me and continues to crash.

"Noooooo!" I howl in despair. I bury my head in my hands. I can't wait any longer! What if this is the episode where Delphine returns? "Stupid piece of-" I smack my laptop uselessly.

A gentle tapping noise disrupts my self-pitying. At first I think it's coming from the door, but then I realise it's not at all.

It's coming from the wall.

Chloe's wall.

"Crap," I mutter. I'm probably being too loud and waking everyone up.

I tap back. She taps back.

"Sorry, did I wake you up?" I enquire, face pressed against the wall.

"No, I was already up, I just wanted to make sure you're okay. You were yelling quite a bit," she replies through the thin surface between us.

"Sorry, I was trying to stream my favourite show and my laptop crashed."

"Oh that sucks, what show was it?" she asks curiously.

"Orphan Black," I answer.

"You're joking right?"

"No?"

"I'm streaming it right now!" she squeals in surprise and excitement.

"Why are you talking to me then? Go enjoy your show!" I insist, chuckling to myself.

"No, come here and enjoy it with me!" she offers.

"Really?"

"Really!"

"I don't look great right now though."

"It's five am no one looks great," she counters. I bet she does.

"Fair point. I'll be right over." I run my fingers through my hair, trying to make it as presentable as possible until I realise I might be missing the return of Delphine, so I grab my popcorn bag and rush out of the room and to Chloe's door. I tap on it gently.

"Come on in." I do, silently pulling the door shut behind me. "You're just in time, the adverts are just about to end."

"Thanks for letting me watch it with you."

"It's no problem, really," she assures me, smiling widely. She manages to look absolutely flawless with her hair hanging in a loose bun at the top of her head, legs tucked under herself, wearing leggings and a loose white t-shirt. She pats the space next to her on her bed. "Make yourself at home." She notices the bag in my hand. "Ooo is that popcorn? Sweet or salted?"

"Sweet."

"Perfect!" She grins and it's contagious. I sit myself down next to her, pulling my knees up to my chest. She frowns at me.

"What?" I question.

"There's a whole pillow space between us," she observes. If you're going to come round and watch this you have to cuddle with me, because I get scared really easily," she pouts.

"Fine," I groan but I really don't mind at all. I shuffle slightly closer to her, placing the popcorn in her lap, opening it and cramming a handful in my mouth.

"First of all, don't choke on your popcorn," she starts, giving me a pointed look. I pull a face back. "Second of all if you think this," she gestures between us. "Is close, then you've got another thing coming." She grabs me around the waist and hoists me closer, so close I can smell the sweet scent of cinnamon. I swallow loudly.

Chloe scoots even closer to me, so she's practically sitting on me, her knees resting on my thighs. The 'previously on' bit is playing on the screen in front of us, but I can't seem to focus on it when the red head is leaning into my side, eyes attentively wide and glued to the screen, popping bits of popcorn in her mouth.

Suddenly my mouth is dry so I fill it with more popcorn.

"Seriously, you're a living, breathing choking hazard," Chloe laughs, smiling up at me.

Every time something gory happens the ginger grabs a fistful of my tank top and pulls me closer, pressing her face into my collarbone in fear. I pat her head and let her know when the gore is gone like a caring mother while my heart hammers erratically against my ribs.

In September I discover Orphan Black.
In September I discover I love Chloe.

Chapter Text

October

October is a beautiful month.

It's a plethora of colours, satsuma orange and golden yellows and vicious reds.

It's full of dying leaves, bare trees and Chloe.

The ginger is sat opposite me in my bed, trying to throw skittles into my mouth unsuccessfully.

"Open wider!" the confident woman instructs, raising her eyebrows expectantly and picking out a green skittle from the packet between us and aiming intently.

"Chloe, if I open my mouth any wider you'll be able to see my lungs!" I protest. She fixes me with a glare so I roll my eyes and stretch my jaw wide open until I feel like it's going to dislocate. Yet again, she misses.

"I give up," she grumbles, dropping the packet sulkily.

"About time!" I tease her, popping one in my mouth. She huffs childishly. "Aw, cheer up Chlo." I offer her the packet and she takes an orange one out, chewing it slowly.

"You know what would really cheer me up..." she starts. I groan and flop backwards, head hitting my pillow with a 'flump'.

"Oh God, where is this going?"

"Be nice," she scolds. Her charming smile soon returns. "I was just wondering if you wanted to be my plus one to Aubrey's halloween party."

"Really?" I sit up suddenly. She nods, eyes wide and unblinking as she stares at me hopefully. "That sounds really fun, I'd love to." I smile, unable to contain my happiness.

"You need to wear a costume though, and nothing weird like... like... well I don't know what like."

"Are you trying to say you want me to wear something... sexy?" I ask, wiggling my eyebrows suggestively.

"That's exactly what I'm trying to say."

"Well, what are you going as?" I ask.

"It's a surprise!" she exclaims. I roll my eyes.

"Well if I have to dress up sexy then so do you," I decide. Although, to be honest, whatever Chloe wears she'll look sexy. She could make a Bob the Builder costume sexy. I wonder if they have Bob the Builder costumes.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Huh?" I look up. Chloe is staring at me intensely, eyebrows furrowed.

"You were pulling your thinking face. What were you thinking about?" she repeats.

"You," I blurt out before I can stop myself. I blush furiously and blink rapidly. The red head grins. "I mean, Bob the Builder." I try to save myself. It fails.

"Mmhm, right okay," she laughs, mocking me.

A week later I'm stood in front of my mirror, adjusting my costume self-consciously. Can I really pull it off? Is it a bit over the top? Do I look chubby? Is my butt too flat?

A knock at the door interrupts my train of self loathing thoughts. I pull the door open and there stands Chloe. I was right about her looking sexy.

She looks absolutely flawless, dressed up in a vintage flight attendant costume, a white blouse that has more buttons undone than done up, a short sleeve navy shirt pulled over the top with a matching navy pencil skirt that doesn't quite reach her knees, all topped off with one of those funny little hats balanced side ways on her head. Her heels are dangerously high, making her even taller than usual.

"Woah," is all I manage to utter, checking her out obviously. She grins at me, hands on her hips, and then the grin falls off her place, replaced with a look of shock at what I'm wearing.

My entire body is covered in a clingy, black, rubbery suit. Pulled over my nose and eyes is a cat mask. I've got ridiculously high black heels on that I had to spend the entire previous day trying to learn how to walk in. My eyes are ringed with even more opal coloured eyeliner than usual. I strike a pose, raising my hands up to my face and showing off my long, black nails like a cat shows off it's claws. I meow meekly.

"Jesus Beca," she breathes.

"Is it too much? Is it that bad?" I anxiously question.

"No, not at all! You look... you look great. Cat-woman right? From Batman?" I nod.

"You don't look too bad yourself," I admit through a lip splitting smile. "I thought I'd run with the whole motorcycle thing, you know? Plus Cat-woman looks like a total bad ass even when she's not on her bike."

"You look like a total bad ass." I simply smile in response and grab the flight attendant's hand, dragging her outside.

I help Chloe onto the motorcycle first, giving her a hand up.

"Wow, you're such a gentlewoman," she teases.

"What can I say." I slide in front of the ginger. She automatically wraps her arms around my narrow waist, squeezing me close to her, leaning forward, her chin resting on my shoulder. "Ready?" I feel her nod against my shoulder and neck so I start the engine and we drive away speedily.

Chloe breathes heavily, her breath warming my cheek and ear. I appreciate the source of heat, It's very cold, even if I am in latex. She tucks her hands into my pockets, struggling to protect herself from the chilly air.

Soon enough we've arrived and the taller girl slips her hands out of my pockets. We must look so weird, cat-woman and a flight attendant on a bike together. I chuckle at the thought and clamber of the bike, giving Chloe a hand down.

"We definitely looked like bad asses," she murmurs in my ear as everyone crowded around the front of Aubrey's house, smoking heavily, stares.

"I think they might just be checking you out," I disagree, muttering to her. She shakes her head and sweeps her eyes over me from head to toe, communicating that she thinks they're checking me out.

We head inside the party. I go to grab us drinks while Chloe heads straight for the dance floor. I gaze over my shoulder at her. She bops and sways all alone at the edge of the dance floor, not caring who stares. And a lot of people do stare, but only for good reasons.

Like how flawless she looks tonight as she dances wildly.

I return with two beers, handing one to the flight attendant who takes a hearty gulp of it before pulling me to the centre of the floor with her one free hand.

"Dance with me!" she insists. I nod my head to the beat of the fast paced song playing loudly. She sighs, rolling her eyes. "C'mon dance properly!" She grabs my hands and guides me along. We're so close, we'd probably be nose to nose if she wasn't so much taller. She let's go of my hands as I get the hang of the rhythm. I miss the warmth in my palm, but it's soon replaced by a warmth somewhere else.

Chloe has turned around and is... grinding against me. She's running her hands through her hair as she presses herself against me. A crimson blush envelops my cheeks. She grabs my hands and places them on her hips.

"Uh, I've got to go- um- I have to- I need- I'll be back in a sec," I blurt out, darting out Aubrey's front door.

I find a space far enough from the smokers that I won't smell like ash for the whole night and hop onto the low wall surrounding the house. I snort. My legs don't even reach the ground. They dangle in the air pathetically.

I let the cold air cool my beetroot face, banging my heels against the bricks rhythmically. Deep breaths of night air fill my lungs.

"Hey, Beca, you okay?" Chloe appears, standing a safe distance from me.

"Yeah, I'm fine I just needed some air," I explain, refusing to meet her puppy dog eyes.

"Are you sure? You seem a bit off," she presses.

"No, no I'm fine I promise," I insist.

"Good, because, no matter how terrifying your driving is, you are still my ride home," the ginger jokes, walking closer.

"Oh that's all I am is it? A ride?" I playfully question, cocking one eyebrow coyly.

"Yep. I don't care about you one bit. I'm friends with you for the kick ass motorcycle rides," she lies, nodding and moving even closer, her legs against my knees.

"I don't believe you."

"No?" I shake my head.

"I think you care about me a lot," I admit in a hushed tone. The only sound I can hear is my own heart thumping. "You want to know what else I think?" She nods enthusiastically.

I beckon her closer and she takes a step forwards, stood in between my legs, her hips clamped between my thighs. I stretch upwards, pressing my cheek against her's as I ever so quietly mutter into her ear, "I think you look really beautiful tonight Chloe."

She leans back and stares intently into my thickly lined eyes.

"I think you succeeded." I tilt my head in confusion, brows furrowing.

"At what?" I wonder aloud.

"Looking sexy tonight." My blush returns and I silently hope the ginger doesn't notice.

"How do you do that so easily?" I ask, gaping at her.

"How do I do what so easily?"

"How do you always make me so damn... flustered!" I exclaim. My cheeks turn an even darker shade of red.

"I make you flustered?" she repeats in disbelief, grinning.

"Yes!" I confirm.

"How'd do you think I feel? You're wearing latex for God's sake! And you ride a motorcycle and you're really witty, and did I mention your voice? Because, oh my God your voice is great. And you just called me beautiful," she rambles, her voice softening towards the end as she leans down ever so slightly. The space between us decreases.

"Well I meant it. You look beautiful all the time," I sigh.

"Well I meant it too. You look great tonight and every night."

We stare at each other for a moment, a moment full of confusion, denial, acceptance and agreement all at the same time.

Then the unofficial staring match ends as our lips crash together.

Chloe holds on to my face with such a loving, gentle touch, but it's full of the best kind of desperation too. It's full of feeling and passion. Her fingers press red marks into my cheeks.

I tangle my hands in her hair. It's glowing orange in the shine of the street light. It's soft and supple between my fingers and I never want to let go. I drag one hand out of the curls and across her neck, following the curve, all the way to the small of her back where I press my palm, dragging her closer. Her breath audibly hitches in her throat.

It's so different from that first kiss. It's still overflowing with passion and love and pure lust, but behind that sits safety.

Comfort.

Home.

We press our foreheads together, gasping for breath in the frosty evening air. I hang on to her hands, intertwining our fingers like stitches.

I never want to let go.

Chapter Text

November

October was a month of firsts,

November is a month of seconds and thirds.

I take Chloe to an aquarium for our third date. I tell her it's because it's a rainy day and so, what else is there to do, but really I'm just looking forward to staring at the ginger's face for hours as she stares at the beautiful fish with a mixture of interest and awe.

The energetic woman is practically dragging me inside by my hand. I jog to keep up with her.

"Hey," I wheeze. "Not quite as tall as you are, legs. Slow it down, would you?" She gives me an apologetic smile and squeezes my hand.

"Sorry, I just got a bit over excited," she shyly says. I chuckle to myself. "What? Are you laughing at me?" she whines.

"Mmhm," I confirm with a nod. "You're really cute when you're excited."

"Well you're cute all the time."

"Gross," I tease her, poking out my tongue. She shakes her head at me, rolling her eyes. "C'mon Red, let's see some fish." We meander towards a tank and Chloe presses her forehead against the glass of the fish tank, eyes glued to the tropical fish that dart around, flashes of golds and reds and yellows.

I mirror her, resting my head against the cool surface. I stare at one fish in particular. It's black and white with a striking orange tail and fins. It follows me with it's beady eyes when I move from side to side, it's mouth moving repetitively in an O formation.

I mimic it immaturely, pulling a face and opening and closing my mouth before sucking in my cheeks and making a deformed fish face, going cross eyed.

"Oh my god!" exclaims Chloe in amazement. "You're such a dork!" She grins, completely entertained by my fish impression. My face flushes a dark crimson. "What is it with you and gingers?" she asks, pointing at the orange fish.

"Are you complaining?" I retort, raising one eyebrow.

"Not in the slightest." The red head grabs my hand and leads me to the next tank.

It's only the third date but... We're kind of a couple. She still comes round all the time and we always snuggle together (just snuggling, nothing more. Chloe is a proper lady). It's kind of disgusting, all of the nicknames and kisses and hand holding. I wouldn't consider doing it with anyone other than the gorgeous ginger.

She stands behind me as I peer into the exhibit, resting her chin on the top of my head and threading our hands together, holding them in the air in front of my face and making me slap myself.

"I'm pretty sure this is abuse," I point out as Chloe tries to make me pick my own nose with my little finger.

"You love it really,"

I love you really, I think.

"I bet it's really easy to be a fish," I choose to say instead.

"Yeah because I'm sure your life is really difficult," she teases.

"You're really difficult." The red head nods in agreement, tugging me towards the starfish.

Aquariums are supposed to be nice, tranquil environments but it's anything but when you have a bubbly woman dragging you everywhere, left, right and centre, racing from one exhibit to the next.

I don't mind though, because she keeps a firm grasp on my hand as we go, refusing to let go for even a minute.

When we reach the glass tunnel of sharks, Chloe slows to a stop. She stands at the edge of the tunnel, lip firmly placed between her teeth. It's a nervous thing she does, but it still makes my heart flutter. I recompose myself, giving her hand a tight squeeze.

"You okay?" I ask. She nods, but I don't believe her for a second. I pause, thinking. "Oh my God, are you scared?" I ask in disbelief, half gaping, half grinning.

"No! Yes. Maybe," she mumbles, embarrassed, blushing profusely.

"Oh my God!" I repeat. "That's literally so adorable." I grab her hand.

"It doesn't make sense, you shouldn't be able to walk over glass!" she whines.

"If I give you a piggy back across will it help?" I suggest. The red head nods eagerly and I squat down slightly so she can hop up, although she doesn't really need me to be any shorter.

She jumps up on to my back, fingers clinging on to my shoulders, leaving imprints, before snaking them down, her hands hanging loosely over my heart, clasped together.

I grunt as I hoist her higher by her thighs, letting her rest on my hips comfortably, my hands on the back of her thighs, next to her knees.

"Is this what it's like being short?" the confident girl wonders aloud, mocking me.

"Remind me which one of us is getting a piggy back because she's afraid of glass tunnels?" I say pointedly, raising my eyebrows and drumming out a beat on the ginger's legs with my fingertips.

"Glass tunnels full of sharks," she corrects me. "And don't make fun of me," she instructs.

"You make it really difficult to not!" I point out, grinning. I unsuccessfully try to blow the strands of chocolate hair dangling in front of my face to the side. Chloe drags them across my face, tucking them behind my ears helpfully.

"You're lucky you're so cute Beca Mitchell."

Chapter Text

December

I've never been a Christmassy person, much preferring David Guetta to those Christmas songs that get stuck in your head for weeks. I like staying in doors in the warm, doing all my shopping online under a stack of blankets to trekking through thick snow to browse for hours to find a pair of socks to buy my dad.

Until I met Chloe Beale that is.

Cheesy Christmas love songs suddenly made sense, and practically drowning in snow and layers of clothing seemed worth it to find that perfect gift. Movies about elves and replacement Santa Clauses were a lot more bearable when there was a certain ginger cuddled into my side, laughing uncontrollably at all the sarcastic comments I made. Everything clicked into place.

"You go first," the bubbly girl insists, bobbing up and down with overwhelming energy where she sits, cross legged, on my bed, the faint glow of LED lights hanging from the fake tree in the centre of the room lighting up her face almost as much as her obvious excitement does.

She tugs at the hem of her white, reindeer jumper. She's got a pair of plain black leggings on as well and a fluffy, aggressively red Santa hat wonkily sits on her head.

Music and the strong smell of peppermint fills the air. Stockings hang lopsidedly from the window sill. Nervous energy surges through me.

"Merry Christmas," I say, handing the present to Chloe. It's a mess of vibrant wrapping paper and peeling tape.

"Have you never wrapped a present before or something?" the ginger asks, laughing at my shoddy skills.

"You're not allowed to be mean, it's Christmas!" I complain, pouting.

"Aww," she coos. "What I meant to say was that I appreciate your original method, obviously," she corrects herself through a grin.

"Just open it!" I encourage her. She does, painstakingly slowly, peeling the paper off without ripping a single bit. She reveals a fist sized maroon box. Carefully, she opens it, peering inside. There's a gift placed on the spongy padding.

It's a bracelet.

It's a thin, silver cord. She runs her finger along it. It's cold to the touch. Decorating the bracelet are 12 charms. The first is a horse shoe. Next to that is a simple heart, then a vintage telephone, an umbrella, a coffee mug, a lock, a music note, a bike, a tv, a pumpkin, a fish and finally a snowflake.

"One for every month," I inform her. I tap each charm as I explain. "It was the Chinese year of the horse and New Year's when I first met you so..." I explain, blushing at the memory of Chloe kissing me in the dark that night. She smiles down at her lap. It's hard to imagine we've gone from complete strangers to an inseparable couple.

The last few months of dating the ginger have been nothing but fantastic.

"Then we next saw each other the day before Valentine's," I say, gesturing to the silver heart as I undo the charm bracelet and wrap it around Chloe's wrists carefully. "And then we kept texting in March," I continue. "And then you saved me in the rain. I promised you coffee when you looked after me." I secure the cord and adjust it slightly on her wrist, looking for an excuse to come in contact with the gobsmacked ginger.

"You locked yourself out of your room that month, and then you heard one of my mixes for the first time in July and then you sung me to sleep." I awkwardly tuck my hair behind my ear. "And then I couldn't find a motorcycle one for August so um..." I trail off, embarrassed. "We watched Orphan Black together in September. Halloween, obviously, was um... eventful," I smirk, searching for the right word.

"Eye opening some might say," Chloe chimes in.

"And then the aquarium and obviously Christmas." I finally finish my ramblings. "Does it fit? If you don't like it you can always return it, I have the receipt somewhere-"

The red head interrupts me by throwing herself across the bed at me, wrapping her arms as tight as she can around my neck and knocking me flat on my back so she's lying on top of me, pressing a sloppy kiss to my cheek.

"It's perfect. Thank you so much," she gratefully says, ghosting her lips against my cheek again. "I'm going to wear it everywhere for the rest of my life." She reaches behind her and pulls out a package.

Of course it's perfectly wrapped, a large, floppy red parcel. I eagerly take it from her and rip it open. Inside is a black, knitted Christmas jumper. 'Bah Humbug!' it reads across the front it fancy, white writing. I laugh loudly.

"Did you make this?" I enquire. Sheepishly she nods. Underneath it is a pair of matching black knitted mittens and a long black scarf. They're all incredibly soft. I bury my nose in the jumper. It smells like vanilla and cinnamon and peppermint and love.

I pull it over my head. It fits perfectly. "Thank you so much." I throw my arms around her waist, pulling her in.

"Do you like it?"

"I love it! I love you," I confess, blurting it out before I can stop myself, my voice taking on an uncharacteristically husky tone. She leans back unsurely, holding me an arm's distance away by my shoulders.. I stare intently into her pale blue eyes.

"You love me?" Her breath hitches in her throat audibly and I struggle to breathe nervously. I nod slowly, chewing on my bottom lip nervously.

She leans forward and kisses me, placing her hands flat against my stomach, pawing at my jumper gently like an innocent kitten.

"I love you too," she whispers against my lips. We sit there, grinning at each other like idiots.

"Merry Christmas Beca."

"Merry Christmas Chloe."