Meet Me at Stagedoor

Chapter 13

She didn't know what had gotten into her. It was as if her whole 'leave me alone' vibe melted away, ever so slightly. Beca had finally given in and she could tell, she made the right decision.

She would never admit it to anyone, but she liked the way she would sit on his lap during the campfire, his arms wrapped around her. Even though she scowled when he would steal a marshmallow off her stick, it was enough to just see his eyes light up in delight. He had also gotten into the habit of kissing her as payment, something that she wasn't going to complain about.

Maybe she liked how he would throw her juice pouches before class, sometimes stuck with post-it notes of songs or movies she should check out. He would never find out that she kept each one of them, filling up a shoebox under her bed.

Beca would deny it if you ever asked her, but she was happy.

He made her happy.

The rest of the summer felt like the weeks turned to minutes and the days turned to seconds. Soon enough, it was time to start the lengthy process of packing up. Jesse watched from her bed as Beca chucked clothes into her suitcase, not even bothering to fold them.

"You remember this?" He asked, reaching up to grab a clam shell she had placed on her shelf.

It was about three days or so after his infamous performance. She was getting better at letting him put his arm around her in the mess hall, still a little jittery with all the looks she would get from her fellow campers. He was getting better at letting her sleep in the morning, slipping in to leave her a coffee and bagel on her desk for her first class.

They were in sync...totally and completely.

Even Beca couldn't deny it.

That day, Jesse had suggested that the two of them spend their free afternoon kayaking on the lake. Jesse, knowing Beca, already knew what she was going to say...and he had planned accordingly.

"You have to promise," she said, eyeing the lifejackets with a darkness in her eyes, "Jesse...promise."

"Yes, Bec. If you come with me, I will do your laundry for two weeks. Now can you get in the kayak?"

With a huff, she took his hand as he led her onto the plastic death trap. She crossed her arms, pulling the baseball cap over her eyes. Beca Mitchell was not one for sun.

He followed her, a grin present on his face. As they pulled out of the docks, he started to hum "My Girl" which made her scowl soften, ever so slightly.

It would've been a perfect afternoon if one of them could actually kayak. Instead, he rowed one way and she rowed the other. He rowed harder and she pretty much gave up. They ended up just spinning in circles, still tied to the dock, 20 feet away.

She didn't mind.

Beca enjoyed the low gurgle of the water as the oars made contact with the salty abyss. She enjoyed how the sun danced on the top of Jesse's head, lightening his chocolate locks. Beca even was okay with the threat of the snapping turtle that had caused an uproar in the camp the previous day.

He had tried to find her a pearl, but there weren't any oysters around. Also, there probably weren't pearls in the small, saltwater lake by the camp. He did find her a clam shell and she was more than happy with that.

.....

"Of course I remember," she responded, glancing at him from inside her closet. She was buried in a series of tops and shorts and jeans, covered head to toe in a tower of garments.

"How about this one?" He called out, picking up the curled guitar string from her dresser, unravelling it in his hands.

.....