Work Text:
The late bell rang four and a half minutes ago and Beca Mitchell’s still not even close to her next class. It’s not like she cares, though. It’s her last class of the day and not to mention her least favorite class altogether. She does this every day, takes her sweet time getting to Student Personal Development knowing that her teacher doesn’t have the balls to give her a detention or at least a good talking to.
Beca thinks that Student Personal Development (or StuPeD, as she likes to call it), is an incredibly shitty elective to get stuck with, especially since she’s still pretty bitter about not getting to take Music Tech this year. She knows not getting your first choice is one of the many, many drawbacks to being a stupid freshman, (she should know since she was a stupid freshman last year, too) but it still sucks. A lot. Her teacher, Mr. Blume, is way too big on feelings and all that open, non-judgmental discussion bullshit for her taste and she’s made that perfectly clear several times. The dislike they have for each other is definitely mutual even if Blume insists he likes every single one of his students.
Blume’s standing in front of his desk expectantly when she strolls into the classroom nonchalantly like she does every day, backpack slung on one shoulder, head nodding along to a song on her iPod.
“Ah, Miss Mitchell at last. Nice of you to join us,” he says once Beca pulls out her headphones and take her assigned seat. She makes a sound of annoyance in response, which he ignores before addressing the class. “Now I trust that almost all of you have done last night’s assignment, am I correct?” He not so subtly looks in Becca’s direction when he says almost, knowing full well by now not to expect much from her. A few kids nod. “Wonderful, wonderful.”
(Last night’s homework assignment was to go through each of her classmates names and write the first word that she thought of when she heard it. Lame. No thanks. Well, except for one tiny exception. She does write stunning on a notecard meant for the cute redheaded senior who sits in the seat closest to the door. Her name’s Chloe and Beca’s had a major crush on her since the first day of school last year when she saw the older girl and her friend, who were manning the concert choir’s booth at the mandatory activities fair, desperately urging the new crop of freshman to join.)
One at a time, her classmates go to the back of the room and put his or her notecards into the bags Blume’s already written everyone’s name on. The rules are that no one is to peek while people deposit their cards and no one can get their bag until after class. When it’s Becca’s turn, she take her singular notecard out of her back pocket and heads to the back of the class, folding it up before dropping it in the bag marked Chloe Beale in Blume’s neat cursive. God, I hope she doesn’t somehow recognize my handwriting, Becca thinks as she hears the notecard hit the pile already in the bag. It all takes her less than a minute and when she’s back in her seat, she swears she can almost hear someone sigh in relief, like they’re happy she didn’t do the whole class. The notecard delivery process takes almost all class, much to Beca’s pleasure. She spends the whole time staring at the back of Chloe’s head and daydreams about maybe someday gathering up the nerve and talking to her. Before the bell rings and Blume dismisses class, he explains that second part of the assignment is to read what your classmates have said and write an essay on how it makes you feel and whether or not it makes you want to change how people see you and Beca already knows that she won’t be doing it. Everyone goes to grab their bag and Beca gets hers, quickly stuffing it in her backpack before leaving.
She takes the long way to her locker today so she can walk past Chloe’s and see if maybe the other girl’s already peeked in her bag and seen what Beca thinks about her. Unfortunately, the redhead isn’t there when Beca walks by so she moves on to her own locker, slightly disappointed, and grabs her jacket before trudging off to go wait for her mom to come pick her up.
*****
Beca’s casually leaning up against a tree, listening to her iPod and ignoring the idiots who walk past her when she spots Chloe sitting on the school steps with that blonde friend of hers, Audrey or Aubrey, something like that. She doesn't really mean to stare, but when it comes to Chloe, she just can't seem to help it. Turns out, she’s not the only one staring, though. She makes direct eye contact with Chloe, who gives her a shy smile that makes Beca’s heart race so fast in her chest that she thinks it's going to explode. Beca, slightly embarrassed to have been caught, looks away as quickly as humanly possible and starts fiddling with her iPod. She’s thankful that her mom’s green Camry slowly pulls up only minutes later.
The car ride home is just as silent as it is every day. Her mom knows full well that Beca isn’t one to gush about the details of her day and Beca appreciates that. She keeps her headphones in and watches out the window the entire 13 minutes it takes for them to get home. When she’s inside, after she throws her jacket on the couch and steps out of her shoes, she goes straight to her room, where she dumps the paper bag out on her bed and reads her classmates’ notes one by one. Harsh. Abrasive. Girl. Rude. Sarcastic. Moody. Tiny. Quiet. Dark. Elfish. Short. White. Alluring. It’s pretty much exactly as she expected. She’s never been known for being the warm, friendly type. It’s that last word that throws her for a loop. Alluring? She isn’t even 100 percent sure what alluring means and has to check the dictionary.
alluring (əˈljʊərɪŋ, əˈlʊə-)
— adj.
enticing; fascinating; attractive
She inspects the notecard more closely and concludes that whoever wrote this word has to be a girl; there’s no way a boy has handwriting that loopy. Every little part of her wants Chloe to be this mysterious notecard writer. She want it to be true so badly, but she knows she shouldn't get her hopes up because it only leads to disappointment and she’s had enough of that in her 15 years to last a lifetime (thanks, Dad). No matter who this person may be, she thinks they've definitely made a huge mistake by using such a word. Nothing about her is enticing, fascinating or remotely attractive. She’s just moody, misfit Beca with the dangerous scowl and the too many piercings and the dark eye makeup (applied a little too heavily, according to her mom).
*****
Beca flat out skips StuPeD the next day to hang out on the school roof, smoking cheap cigarettes and unwinding. (She needs a break from listening to Blume ramble on and on, so sue her.) She knows that the roof's the best place to skip class because there’s no chance of someone coming along to bother her. Last year, she and her old best friend (her only friend, really) Drew would spend 3 or 4 classes on the roof a week. They used to laugh at the rest of the kids in their grade who were stuck in algebra or biology or gym while the two of them enjoyed freedom, that is until they both got letters in the mail informing their parents that they'd failed for the year and would be forced to repeat it in the fall. Unfortunately, Drew had moved away during the summer and Beca got stuck repeating her freshman year alone. Now, the only class she skips is Blume's and she tries to only do it once a month. When the clock on her phones says it's 2:03, Beca makes sure to pack up her belongings and head back inside so she doesn't get caught skipping; the last thing she needs is another phone call home. The bell’s set to ring 2 minutes later so the halls will be full of students get ready to leave. She'll be able to just blend right in.
She makes a quick pit stop at the bathroom before continuing on to her locker. She opens her locker to grab her jacket and a folded up piece of pink paper comes falling out. She looks around quizzically before bending down and picking it up. Unfolding the paper, Beca realizes it’s a note. It reads missed seeing you in class today, hope you'll be there tomorrow –your secret admirer :) p.s. i'll be by the bike racks at 2:10 if you wanna find me. The handwriting matches that of her mysterious notecard writer. This is definitely not an opportunity she wants to pass up. She looks at her phone, it’s 2:08 and she'll have to hurry if she wants to be there in time to meet the mystery girl, but first she texts her mom and tells her to come later because she’s stuck in detention. She knows this lie will lead to being scolded later, but finding out this girl’s identity will be worth it (unless it’s not who Beca hopes it'll be).
*****
At 2:12, Beca gets to the bike racks and looks around. No one’s there yet and she starts to get nervous about whether or not this had just been someone’s idea of a cruel joke. She waits some more and still nothing. Her heart starts beating faster and faster in her chest. She’s starting to feel like a total idiot and getting ready to just walk home, when she feels a tap on her shoulder. She turns around and it’s Chloe.
“It is you,” Beca breathes softly.
“Hi,” Chloe replies and nervously starts playing with her hair.
“You’re my secret admirer.” Beca states this like she still can’t believe it.
“I am.”
Things are more than a bit awkward between them and it’s obvious the two of them are nervous as hell. Beca blushes and rubs the back of her neck, Chloe giggles like it’s the cutest thing in the entire world.
“So, you think I’m alluring, huh?”
“Yeah, I do and you think I’m stunning.”
“You are.”
After that, they just kind of stare at each other for a while, both unsure of what to say, until Chloe launches into a long winded story about how she’s liked Beca since the moment she saw her and how she'd always harbored some kind of hope that Beca liked her back. (It's in that moment when Beca realizes just how much Chloe likes to talk.)
When Beca reveals how chickenshit scared she was to even approach Chloe, the redhead busts out in laughter because, really? If there’s anyone who looks even remotely unapproachable, it’s Beca with her alternative clothes and the piercings and bristly personality and not to mention her serious bitchface. Chloe tells Beca she likes her newest earrings, the younger girl blushes again and barely manages to stutter out a thanks. Chloe’s about to say something else when Beca’s mom’s car pulls up and she impatiently honks her horn twice.
“There’s my mom, I better go,” Beca says, a little disappointed that she can’t stay longer.
“Okay, bye then. I'll text you later!”
“You don't even have my phone number,” Beca says.
“Then, you better give it to me, you goof,” Chloe replies with a smile.
They exchange numbers before parting ways, then Beca gets into her mom’s car and Chloe walks off toward the students’ parking lot.
*****
After a lengthy lecture from her mom all about how she’s supposed to be trying harder this year and not getting into trouble, Beca goes up to her room to relax. She’s in the middle of reading when her phone goes off, the screen flashing 1 new text from: Chloe :). She checks it and smiles. will you be my girlfriend? text yes or no., the message reads. Beca quickly types back Y! and shuts her phone. She can’t believe it. She just got asked to be Chloe Beale’s girlfriend! She’s dating Chloe Beale! Beca Mitchell, you are one lucky girl , she tells herself. This is everything she dreamed of and more.