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They’re sitting on the couch with plastic pink and blue cups of wine in their hands and a bowl of corn chips snug between their thighs when the bomb drops.
“I like Amy.”
Chloe isn’t home yet. They’re waiting for her so they can start movie night. She's got a late shift. Soft music fills the silence left by Amy, who’s most likely out doing something Beca doesn’t wanna be involved in, and Aubrey fits nicely on the right side of the couch in her stead.
Aubrey’s comment is innocuous. Beca doesn't think twice about it. She likes Amy too.
She pops a chip in her mouth before replying with an innocuous comment of her own.
“She’s likable.”
Aubrey’s sigh is as audible as the roll of her eyes.
“No, I mean I like her.”
Beca squints slightly, sipping around her blue cup.
“Yeah, I don’t think of you as some heartless monster, Posen.”
“Oh my god, Beca.” Aubrey groans as she slaps her now empty cup on the coffee table. “ Are you dense? I mean I like her.”
When Beca doesn’t react past a slight flinch, Aubrey’s eyes widen. It’s a bit silly, how Aubrey always tries to telepathically send a message through her eyes. As if Beca could tell the difference between wide eyes and, well, wide eyes. She does feel a weight in Aubrey’s words, in her stare, but she can't quite seem to grasp it yet. She's almost sure she's got it, though.
Aubrey’s throat works as she swallows.
“As in,” she continues, a lot quieter, fiddling with the ring on her forefinger, “I like , like her.”
And there it is. The bomb explodes. There's fire in Aubrey’s hair and the chips are scattered all over the sofa and floor, but only Beca can see it.
“Wait,” she gapes. “Amy? Our Amy?”
Aubrey closes her eyes “Yes.”
“Our Australian friend that flashed her junk to the president? That Amy?”
“Oh, for Christ's sake. I’m leaving.”
The bowl of chips tilts as she makes a move to get up, but Beca places a steadying hand on it as she reaches for Aubrey’s arm lamely.
“No! No, no, no,” she giggles around her protest. “Stay, please.” She takes a breath. “I’m sorry. Tell me about it. I'll listen.”
Aubrey tenses beneath her fingers, but she relents. She sinks back down on the couch and Beca’s hand retreats back to her lap.
“What's there to say?”
“You tell me,” Beca chuckles.
Aubrey looks down at her restless hands, opting to busy them with the strings on the pajama pants she borrowed from Chloe’s wardrobe. “Well, like you said, she’s likable.”
“And?”
“You know,” Aubrey’s eyes flit between Beca’s and the strings. “She’s charming… In her own weird way.”
When she looks back at Beca, the girl has a small smile sitting atop her lips. Beca’s smile when she’s comfortable, the smile she has when she’s listening to her friends talk about music or watching a dog walk past her. A normal, genuine smile. There is no trace of mockery, no disgust, only soft warmth. Aubrey’s shoulders sag.
“I mean I’ve always liked her, platonically,” she continues, finding the courage that had spilled out of her with three little words. “The… little crush is a recent development.”
Beca nods. “Sometimes, those little bugs have a way of creeping up on you.”
Aubrey frowns. “Bugs?”
“I mean— the butterflies. In your stomach. You get those? Or are you more of a ‘she looked at me and my knees turned to jelly’ kinda girl?”
“My knees do not turn to jelly when she looks at me,” Aubrey scoffs, leaning back. “But I do get nervous… But also not? It’s weird. She’s always managed to make me feel at ease. Like, her jokes can be rude and kinda gross, but it makes me laugh. Like a lot more than I usually would.”
Beca smiles wider. “Aww, yea, like she manages to pull out the stick from your butt.” Her smile turns to a grimace and Aubrey mirrors her expression, cringing.
“Ew, Beca, no.”
“Yeah, I hated it the moment it left my mouth.”
“Anyways,” she huffs. “So, I feel comfortable around her. Or at least I used to, until these stupid… bugs started.”
“Yeah, the bugs kinda suck sometimes. But they’re also a fun feeling, right?”
Aubrey shrugs. “I guess.”
“Like—” Beca wiggles her eyebrows— “you’re all happy when the bugs are there?”
“I hate this analogy.” She lets a shiver shake her shoulders. “Let’s stop talking about bugs: I see enough of those at my job. I get happy and there are no bugs,” she affirms, crossing her arms. “But I feel nervous and if I think about it too much I feel like I’m gonna throw up because there's no way it'll end well for either of us. Well, especially me.”
“Hey, you don't know that.” Beca reaches back over, her fingers gently landing on Aubrey’s knee in an attempt at comfort. Living with Chloe, loving with Chloe, is rubbing off on her. “Maybe you'll have aca-babies together someday.”
“Ew, Beca, you really have to stop.”
“Sorry, I'm kinda nervous too.” She retracts her hand again and snatches a few chips from the bowl. “Why are you telling me all this? Like, instead of telling Chloe.”
Aubrey huffs, tightening the arms around herself. “I don't know. I guess I just thought your... vibe would be a better fit.”
Beca smirks. “My alt vibe?”
Aubrey’s eyes roll. “Your more ‘laid back’ vibe.” She bites her lip, looking down at the bowl between them. “You know Chloe: she likes to make a big deal out of things. Or, she just can't help it. I didn’t want this to be a big deal.”
“I get that.” She drapes her arm on the back of the couch and leans on her hand. “But you’re still gonna tell her?”
“Yeah.” She uncrosses her arms, copying Beca’s pose. “Yeah, when I get my shit together.”
Beca slides another chip between her teeth. “And what's that gonna look like?”
“Well,” she sighs, plucking at the lint on her thigh, “first, I’m gonna get over that stupid crush.”
One of Beca’s eyebrow arches. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don't you wanna, you know, get the girl?” Aubrey’s eyes are stuck on the Minnie Mouse patterns on the cotton of her legs. When she doesn't answer, Beca continues, a tentative smirk pulling at her lips. “I could give you some advice.”
Aubrey scoffs. “Oh, like you 'd be of help.”
“Hey!” Beca laughs indignantly, chucking a chip at her. “I got the girl!”
“More like Chloe got the girl so you got a girl by happenstance.” She chucks the chip back.
It's harmless teasing and the look of constipation has finally left Aubrey, so Beca takes it as a win.
“Whatever. You know what, I still managed to get with the girl, so that's a lot of steps closer than where you're standing.” She crosses her arms, faking being annoyed. “Actually, like you said, I made the girl get me. That's pretty badass.”
Aubrey’s guffaw breaks Beca’s tough girl act and, in the five seconds it takes for Aubrey to recover, she lets herself watch over her friend in a rare moment of stillness. It’s not every day that Aubrey trusts her with a piece of her heart, and it's not every day she gets to bask in the comfort of their friendship unobserved. The only person who could catch the glow in her eyes and the softness of her smile right now is Aubrey, and the girl is too preoccupied with making fun of her. She's about to say something, after regaining her composure— most likely a jab about how not badass it is— but something stops her and her eyes grow wide with a gasp.
She clasps her hands on top of Beca’s knee.
“Right! You’re right.”
“I am?”
She nods with a hum. “I just have to make Amy do all the work. That way, I won't embarrass myself. How did you do it?”
“Um, I don't know. I was still, like, flirty I guess?” There's bewildered amusement in the tone of her voice that she can't manage to cover completely.
Aubrey hums again. “No, that won't work. I can’t flirt.”
“You don't have to worry about embarrassing yourself, you know. It's Amy,” Beca reminds her. “No matter what you do, she'll manage to do worse. Like paddle across a lake for you while singing We Belong .”
“Oh, oh!” She taps Beca’s knee. “Weren't Bumper and Amy in a fight? Maybe I just need to act hot and cold.”
Beca pushes out a breath. “Man, I don't know if that would work. And wouldn’t acting hot mean flirting?”
“Fuck.”
Beca smirks. “Maybe you're just going to have to embarrass yourself.” She shrugs. “At least a little bit.”
Aubrey tsks. “Stacie told me this would happen.”
“Stacie told you you'd get a crush on Amy?”
Aubrey swats the air dismissively. “She told me I’d need to embarrass myself someday because that's just what happens when you like someone.” She rolls her eyes as she says it and gets up from the couch, taking her wine cup with her. “And even if you don't do that, they'd still have to see the embarrassing parts of you someday. She said it'd be worth it in the end because the right person will love those parts too.”
Beca slides her legs from the sofa and follows behind, her own cup in hand. They get to the kitchen and Aubrey retrieves the wine bottle from the counter. She’d brought it thinking they'd share it with Chloe too, but she’s taking a while and, well, Aubrey really needs a drink. As she pours herself another cup, Beca digests Stacie’s love advice.
She thinks the girl isn't too far off. Chloe’s probably seen the worst parts of her now, including the embarrassing ones. She's confident she could say the same is true both ways. And she wouldn’t say that she’s in love with every part of Chloe, for better or for worse, because that would be incredibly cheesy, but she also wouldn't not say that.
“Wow,” Beca exhales, tilting her not-quite-empty cup towards Aubrey so that she tops it. “I didn't know Stacie said stuff like that.”
“Well, she probably added a few more innuendos here and there, but you know—” She bumps her cup with Beca’s before leaning back on the counter— “she's actually really emotionally intelligent.”
They take a sip and Beca hums, nodding.
“Maybe we should call her for some advice on this Amy situation then.”
Aubrey chokes. “Oh no. She wouldn't be of help here. She'd just tell me to shove my boobs in her face.”
Beca chuckles. “Maybe that'll work.”
Beca bets they could play a drinking game around the amount of times Aubrey has rolled her eyes tonight. “Like Amy hasn't seen bigger boobs than mine before.”
“Hey, size doesn't matter.”
“My dad always says if you're not the tallest one in the room, just make sure you're not the shortest.”
Beca raises her brows. “Is that why we're friends?”
Aubrey sips her wine slowly before answering. “No…”
Beca scoffs and shuffles backwards to take a seat on the kitchen table. “I’m just gonna ignore how long it took for you to answer.” She takes a breath. “I think the game plan here should just be to be straight forward. Tell her how you feel. That way the only embarrassing things out there are your feelings.”
“What?” She coughs. “No! That's horrible. What if I start and all that comes out is puke?”
Beca cringes. “Right, okay. What about just... straight up kissing her?”
Aubrey frowns. “Um, consent, Beca, hello?”
Beca puts her hands up, careful not to spill the wine. “Right, okay, no kissing.”
“Oh god.” Aubrey puts her cup down and clutches at her stomach.
“What?”
“What if I throw up in her mouth?”
“I thought there'd be no kissing?”
“Well, not right away!” Obviously, Beca. “But what if we both embarrass ourselves and since it's mutual she wants to kiss? And then I throw up in her mouth!”
“That's not gonna happen!” Beca puts her cup down too.
Aubrey is freaking out. “How do you know?”
“You know what—” Beca takes a deep breath and gets up from the table slowly— “You're turning a little green there, friend.” Her hand hovers over Aubrey's shoulder. “Maybe we should stop talking about the what ifs of vomiting before it happens.”
Aubrey groans in her hands, shoulders slumped.
“Hey, it’ll be fine.” She settles her hand on Aubrey’s upper arm lightly. “Didn't you say one of the things you like about Amy was how comfortable she made you feel? She'll crack a joke and you'll laugh and it'll all feel nice and good.”
“It will?”
“Yeah!” She pats Aubrey's shoulder lightly with the most confident smile she can muster. It’s a bit crooked.
Aubrey looks down at the hand on her shoulder from between her fingers and then back at her face. When her hands fall away, so does Beca’s, and Aubrey sports a frown.
“You have such an untrustworthy face. I wish Chloe was here. She’s way better at comforting me.”
Beca laughs dryly, crossing her arms. “Tough luck. You're stuck with me.”
A small smile creeps on Aubrey's lips. “Thank you, Beca.”
“What, for comforting you horribly?” She looks away.
“For being there for me.” It's Aubrey's turn to put a comforting hand on Beca. “For listening.”
Beca looks back, head hung slightly. She sends her a lopsided smile.
So maybe they don't have it all figured out. Whatever. At least, they've got wine. And Chloe will be home soon. She's way better at love than they are.