It's on a Thursday afternoon you're first met with your new roommate. You've just got back to your dorm after an intense last class of English Lit before the exams start next week and the Bellas practice doesn't start until later today, so you decided you've earned yourself a little nap. Your head had just hit the pillow when a small brunette comes barging into your room. You had gotten the e-mail regarding some new students having to bunk with people who had a room of their own, but since they were arriving last Monday, you had kind of had your mind set of having this dorm to yourself for another few weeks.

The girl's wearing black, tight pants, a red shirt and a grey vest that covers not much skin at all, leaving you to stare at her bare shoulders a second too long. You snap yourself out of it, however, and your eyes trace down towards the black band around her right wrist. You wonder if it's leather as you scan her other accessories; the piece of elastic around her left wrist and the spikes in her ears that have you wondering if they feel heavy on the girl. Her auburn locks are caught between her neck and the black headphones she has thrown around her, and you think you even spot a small tattoo on her lower arm, that you can't see well enough to make out what exactly it is.

You greet her with your usual enthusiasm that comes out in a high-pitched tone that Aubrey always tells you remind her of those beats in dubstep music, although she gets mad at you when you call it 'music'. Instead of saying hi, asking for your name and making small talk -like a normal person would-, this girl doesn't even spare you a glance and the loud sigh she lets out feels more aimed at you than at the heavy bag she throws on her bed.

The bag is navy green and even reminds you of those bags army men carry on their backs when they return home. (You've seen The Hurt Locker; that's basically a documentary, right?) She's carrying two more items; one looks like it contains a laptop and the other you couldn't possible make out what it holds.

"I'm Chloe!" You tell her, but it's obvious she's not listening, going through her biggest bag angrily until she's apparently found the item she was looking and then, grabbing the two briefcases and whatever she needed out of her bag.

As fast as she came in, she's out the door again.

You're not sure what to think. But in the middle of dance practice that day, you catch yourself thinking about that tattoo on her arm, wondering as to what it could be.

The second time you see her is on Sunday. You agreed to go to the Trembles party the night before and, along with most of the night, you can't remember why you went. By the time you've woken and got yourself cleaned and dressed, it's close to two p.m. and you walk back to your dorm. You find her asleep on her bed, on top of her blanket and fully clothed. You wonder if she was out last night, and where she slept, because you left for the shower stalls about an hour and a half ago and she was definitely not in the room by then. Did she stay out this long? Or did she sleep somewhere else? That's more likely, because she hasn't slept in your shared room up until now. That you know of. Her bed was kind of a mess Friday when you got back from dinner with Stacie, and you left your room early for class that day. So maybe she always comes in around noon. You can definitely see her as an afternoon sleeper.

And sleeping she can, because when you get back from getting groceries around five, she hasn't moved an inch from the position you found her in earlier today and if she wasn't snoring so loudly, you'd think about checking her pulse to see if she was still alive. You turn on the radio and start to sing along to the, one of many, new Justin Bieber song while preparing a cup of tea for yourself. You hear the girl growl from her bed and you can see from the corner of your eyes how her arms reach into the air around her to stretch.

"Do you have to be so loud?!"

It's the first words she's spoken to you since her arrival on Thursday and you wonder if her voice is always so low and raw. You wouldn't really mind if it was.

"Wakey-wake, sleepyhead. It's almost evening." The giggle that escapes your mouth from the sight of her bed-hair is non-intentional, but it makes her look at you and you reckon it's worth it, then. The dark lines around her eyes are perfect and untouched, making her seem more intimidating than you think she actually is. "Late night?" You ask her. No answer. "You want any?" You say as you pour the hot water into your cup. You think you hear a mumbled rejection as she heads into the walk-in closet to change. You pour her some, anyway.

"What is this, I told you 'no'!" She doesn't take the cup from your reached out hand, yet death stares at you, eyebrows low and her lips pressed together. You think to yourself, if she wasn't 5"1, maybe you'd be a little bit afraid of her right now.

"It's good for your throat." You give her one of your friendly smiles and put the cup down. You can tell by her facial expression she won't take the drink from you. "I never actually got your name."

"It's 'cause I didn't tell you."

You laugh at that and she looks at you funny, not understanding what's so hilarious about how everything about her screams "keep out!", but there's something about her that you haven't quite figured out yet, something that's inviting you in. Maybe it's all in your head, because when you take a seat next to her on her bed, she jumps up and seems like a deer caught in headlights. You think you hear the word 'dude' in a way that would insinuate you've assaulted her, so you apologize and say "-I just thought, since we're gonna be roommies for at least the rest of the year, we should get to know each other." The girl's nose is wrinkled as if she's just tasted something disgusting, and you think it might have been the word 'roommies' that did that to her.

"Let's just hope I won't be here for that long." And with an excessive roll of her eyes while grabbing her two bags again, she's out the door, leaving you rather uncomfortable on her bed.

Aubrey comes over that night to discuss routines and techniques, but your mind is with your new roommate as you wonder why she would say that she wouldn't be here for the rest of the year. Did she mean with you? In this room? Or this school? Was she failing class? It could be, because you're pretty sure she hasn't even set foot on campus in the few days she's been here. And midterms start this week. How will she even-

"Chloe!" Aubrey's voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you have to blink a few times to be able to focus your full attention on her. "What's going on? You've been off for a few days now."

Of course Aubrey notices every little thing. You've been best friends since, pretty much, pre-school, since your moms are as close as can be, you were pretty much appointed to each other growing up. It's a good thing Aubrey is an amazing person and friend. "No, I've just been thinking about my new roommate."

"Still nameless?"

You nod and explain what happened today. You express your worries about where she sleeps at night and why she won't tell you anything about her. You drift off in conversation and somehow reach the fact that she has a tattoo, to which Aubrey jumps up, firmly states that "Tattoos are for prisoners, Chloe!" and starts to make her way to the stranger's side of the room. You follow your best friend, but slap her hand away when she reaches for the bag that lays half-open on the bed.

"What are you doing?" You know there's no way to stop Aubrey once she has an idea in her head, but you like to think you always try and stop her when it's a stupid plan. She tells you she has the right to know if the girl that has access to your room is a convicted felon who murders people at night, and even though it sounds ridiculous, truly ridiculous, Aubrey has a way of convincing people. You justify agreeing to go through someone's personal stuff by reminding yourself that you're a natural curious and nosy person, but when the first item Aubrey pulls out is a set of headphones, you know this is crazy. The girl is just distant and, well, angry at the world for whatever reason. But that doesn't make her a convict. "Aub, we can't do this."

The words have just left your lips when the door's thrown open (really, what's with all the anger towards doors?) and the tiny brunette swings inside. You're paralyzed in your place as you await those awful seconds that it takes your new roommate to realize what's going on and when her eyes reach yours, you feel like digging a hole and disappearing into the inner depths of this earth. You're pretty sure her eyes couldn't possibly shrink any more in confusion when she finds you with her headphones in your hand, Aubrey's hand is slowly exiting her bag and you can feel your heart twisting as the girl is obviously lost for words. Her jaw unlocks every few seconds she attempts to form words, you can tell by the way her bottom lip trembles, but then it locks again and, you think, if she was a cartoon character, this would be the second before steam blows out of her ears and her head turns red and grows three sizes.

"What the fuck?!"

That's an appropriate reaction.

"What. The. Fuck!"

Still, appropriate.

"Get the fuck away from my stuff!"

She snaps the headphones out of your grip and her fingers hit your wrist for a second, sending an electric wave through your spine that reminds you to stand up straight. You're stuck for a moment, paralyzed between what to do and why her touch felt so good and why your stomach is turning in knots and why you'd steal more of her stuff just to feel her touch again. You free yourself from the thoughts, because there's arguing going on behind you and when you turn to face both girls, the smaller one of the two is talking mostly in curse words and threats. Your best friend doesn't bow down, however, and it's like watching fuel getting thrown onto fire. Rage is pouring out of your new roommate's eyes and her fists are clenched besides her body, and you can tell she's trying to hold herself back from jumping at Aubrey's throat. Although you can slowly see her losing the grip she has on herself, and you know your best friend won't ever give in, so you do the only thing you can think of.

"Aub, just go, please." You're facing her, standing in between the two and you try to ignore the hot breath you feel in the back of your neck. Aubrey looks at you and you can tell she's mad at you for not choosing her side. Even though that's totally not what you're doing. She's your best friend, of course you would stand by her. That is, if she has a reasonable point and let's be fair, you both violated numerous roommate rules here. The small girl, whose name you still don't know, is in the right here, so you can't particularly ask her to leave. Also, this is her room and you doubt she'd leave if you asked. "Aubrey, please." You beg, knowing this situation isn't gonna resolve into anything good if you don't get one of them out of this room.

Your hands stay on her upper arms as Aubrey slowly backs out of the room, never breaking eye contact with the girl behind you. She tells you that this reaction is the one of someone who has a lot to hide, and then she's out. You sigh against the door, wrongfully thinking the tension is cleared now.

"I can not believe you."

"I was trying to stop her!" You yell back and take a few steps towards her to show her you're not scared of her. You don't know why her words have offended you. You just need her to know it wasn't your idea to search her bag. You want to explain, but words aren't leaving your mouth. The only thing you can do is stare at the girl's eyes and how they are a much darker shade than when you saw her before.

"Of course you fucking were." The girl scoffs and turns her head towards her bag, stuffing the headphones back in.

"Can you not curse so much?" You know you're not really in a place to make demands, but you don't like it when people curse. It makes you feel small and vulnerable.

"Oh, you don't like it when I fucking curse? You want me to stop fucking cursing?!"

Okay, so she doesn't really have a wide vocabulary when it comes to curse words. "I understand you're mad, but we didn't mean to-"

"You didn't mean to?!"

She's turned back to face you and you're a lot closer to her now than you've planned, but she steps in and you can feel the heat coming from her body, wondering for a split second what it would be like to feel that heat directly onto yours. You stutter, and your eyes linger at the girl's lips.

"You didn't fucking mean to search my bag? 'Cause that's what it looked like!"

She's stepped closer and you stepped back, involuntarily, knowing you wouldn't be able to breathe if you let her get any closer.

"With my fucking personal shit in your hands-"

She steps forward, you step back.

"-and your friend-"

Another step forward, another step back.

"-calling me a damn criminal!"

And another.

And then you feel the doorknob poking into your back and you shift slightly to the side, resting weakly against the wall. The girl's eyes are full of fury and passion and yours are shifting between looking at them and her lips. The way she spits out the words, how her wet lips are glistering in the bad lighting of the room and the way they curl after every bad word draw your attention. You try not to be so obvious, but you are. You're really obviously staring at her, hungrily. You make a mental note to kick yourself for this later, because you're supposed to be explaining yourself to this girl, apologizing, anything besides imagining how those teeth could easily rip off your clothes and leave marks on your body that would be hard to cover up.

"You don't got anything to say for yourself?!"

She's still angry, but it looks like maybe she's softening up. "She's just- It's, because we didn't even know your name." Good going, Beale. That's a perfectly clear sentence..

"My name is Beca, okay. Is that your typical murderer's name? Does that tell you anything about me that you wanted to know?!"

Her hands move through her hair and then turn into fists right in front of your face. (Actually right in front of her own, but you're pretty close to each other at this point.) You can tell she's angry, really angry, and she's trying to get a grip on herself. Then she rests her hands against either side of you onto the wall and, for someone who jumped up when you sat down a feet away from them, this girl is suddenly not bothered by personal space anymore. You wonder for a split second if she's either going to hurt you or kiss you.

"It's nice to meet you, Beca." You breathe out slow, your voice sounding needy and husky as you lock your eyes on hers. She doesn't look away and, it's not like that says anything. You can't read her facial expressions –although thus far you've only been introduced to 'angry' and that's not a very hard guess to make-, but you see something different right now. Something you can't quite describe, but her face softens.

Before you can make anything else out of it, Beca throws the door open next to you and with a final "fucking weirdo", she's gone again. It's only then that you realize you've been holding your breath this entire time.

During the next week, nothing changes much from how the days were after Beca moved in. You barely see her, and when you do, she tries to make sure you can't communicate with her. When there's a second where she's not wearing her headphones, which is next to never, you ask her about her day or how her midterms went, assuming she went to make them. You don't know, because she just simply ignores you without even making eye contact. One time, after you got back from your Russian Lit test, she's lying on her bed, feet on the bag that is still unpacked. You just greet her happily, but she mumbles something and then she's out the door.

Rude.

You don't know why you're even trying at this point. You just want to be friends with this girl. Or at least know what she studies and where she goes every night. Know the basic things. You don't really know why that's important to you. With the behavior she's been showing you this past week, you wouldn't be surprised to find she's in a cult or something.

But you still want to know. Maybe because she's such a mystery. You don't know anything about this girl, literally nothing, yet you've never been more excited to see a person than when she bursts into your shared room.

You're not attracted to her. God, no. That would be stupid. You just wanna figure her out. That's all.

It's exactly a week after your weird, angry fight/sexy stare session that you see her again and she doesn't run straight out the room. You're just back from your evening jog and she's lying on her bed with her laptop on her lap and, shocker, headphones on. You unplug your own earphones and flop down on your bed, untying your shoelaces while finishing your water bottle that you brought along with you. You watch her carelessly and for a first, she returns your gaze, just as you throw your sweaty shirt over your head. You see her pupils grow in shock and you wink before losing your pants as well and heading into your closet to find something clean. When you get back to the living room/bed room/kitchen (it's a small dorm), you see Beca's cheeks are flustered and you can't help the grin that grows on your face.

She is so cute. (You know, when she's not a huge pain in the ass.)

You walk around the room, trying to figure out which approach you're going with today in order to get her to talk to you when you notice something. Her hands are running through her hair angrily like that time when she stood so close to you, and then they shake over the keyboard, fingers interlacing and then back to shaking.

Something is wrong, you think.

"God. Fucking. Damn it." Beca grins and you can practically feel the frustration coming from her mouth.

Something is wrong, you know.

"Everything okay?" You ask from the kitchen. She doesn't respond and, yeah, the headphones. Of course. She can't see you trying to connect with her, although you doubt that would make a change. You've stood right in front of her while speaking and her eyes were actually on your lips (even though you try not to think of that too much) and you knew she could tell you were trying to make conversation, and she just walked right past you.

But right now you're not just gonna go on with your day. The girl seems irritated and maybe even upset. Your curiosity and general instinct to care for another human being kick in and before you know it you're next to her bed and removing her headphones from her head.

She physically jumps a few centimeters up from her bed, hits her laptop shut, and makes herself small against the wall, knees pulled up to her chest and her arms tightly against her body. You take a step back instantly, wondering what you've done wrong to cause every muscle in her body to tense. She's looking at you in shock, eyes wide and you think you've discovered a new face, because this is definitely not 'angry', but you're also not sure what it then is.

"I'm sorry." You stumble, hands open to show her you're not a threat.

She turns away from you then, eyes on her closed laptop and you see her taking a short, deep breath in through her nose, her jaw clenches at the same time she swallows away a lump in her throat and you know what's gonna come.

"When the fuck are you gonna stop touching my stuff?"

It's not even near the loudest you've ever heard her spit words at you, but the sudden change in faces takes you by surprise and you're not sure what you should do in this situation.

"You know,-" She's standing now, an angry smile on her lips and, as if you're working on autopilot, you take a step back in the same direction you did that first time. "-you are just about the rudest person I have ever met."

It's been the same dance as last week, she took steps while talking, you've been backing up and you know it's not far until you're standing with your back against that wall again. But then the words she's said reach your brain and instead of taking that final step, you stop in your tracks and Beca almost crashes into you.

"I am rude?!" You spit back. No one has ever called you rude and you don't think you like it very much. You might be a lot of things, but rude? No. "You are calling me rude?!"

She, however, doesn't step back when you move forward and you're barely touching, but it still makes your heart skip a beat. (You tell yourself it's because she's making you angry and you're never angry.) She looks smug and you have never been so insulted in your life.

"Yeah, you can't just do whatever you want."

"There was something wrong, I was just being a decent person, wanting to help."

"You don't just invade people's privacy like that, I know that's maybe news for you." She takes a small step back at that, but only to raise her hands in a mocking way when she tells you that must be something you've never heard before.

The hint at what you and Aubrey did last week stings. "I apologized for that." You close the gap between the two of you that she just opened.

"Oh, well, that makes it all better. Thank you."

It's so sarcastic, it's basically dripping off her words. "Why don't you just walk away then? You seem really good at that." You're not used to people hurting you, and the fact that it makes you come to the conclusion that you're the kind of person who would hurt someone back for it, disgusts you. You hate that she's putting you in this position.

Her nose wrinkles and you think her teeth might start falling out if she grins them together any harder. "I walk away because you're an annoying piece of shit who can't take a hint." She tells you, and you think the words would hurt if she didn't move her face so close to yours.

Seriously, your foreheads are almost touching and your gaze flickers once again to her lips. God, you have to stop being so obvious.

But maybe that's what did the trick, because suddenly her lips are on yours and you're not sure who connected them, but you can't bring yourself to care right now.

You were right about how her teeth could probably cut, because you feel your bottom lip bleeding only a few seconds after whomever closed the gap. Her tongue moves in and out of your mouth quick and fast, giving you no room to battle her for dominance. It's pretty clear she's still mad at you, you can tell by the way she shoves you until your body is once again pressed against the wall. You get pushed every time you try to lean into her touch and, maybe that's why you keep moving forward.

Her mouth moves from your lips to your neck and you keep your bottom lip between your teeth, careful not to let any moans escape. Of course, that was a nice idea, but when she suddenly bites hard at your pulse point, you lose control of your body and you slam your head back against the wall, a heavy sigh coming from the back of your throat. You're glad she doesn't stop right there and then, (because, what are we even doing here?) but instead she grabs at your chest and squeezes firmly, then massaging your boobs with two hands. You tell yourself that the gasp you let out is because of your body impacting the wall again, but when she starts to pinch your nipples through your shirt and the same sound exits your throat, you know you're fucked.

"I can take a hint." Why are you talking right now? "I just want us to get along." Seriously, her mouth is working its way down your body, stop talking, Beale. "I am a very good friend, Beca."

Not to your surprise, the smaller girl's lips leave your body and you open your eyes to see her still angry pupils drilling holes into your face. "Do you ever shut the fuck up?!" She asks you before her lips connect to yours again, her teeth bumping into yours and you're not sure you're supposed to be smiling at that. "Oh, you think it's funny?" She asks you while capturing your mouth. It kind of makes you smile even more. "You are by far-" You interrupt her by pushing your tongue down her throat and it makes her whimper just enough for you to hear.

She pushes you into the wall after that, obviously annoyed you did that. And you just smirk at her, teasing her, challenging her to get your bodies back together. The space between you two probably hurts her more than you, you think, because after spitting out the next bit of her started sentence "-the most irritating,-" she kisses you again with her hand wrapped around your neck, not barely putting enough force on her hand to hurt you, but enough to keep you in place. You try to get her to move in closer, but instead she moves away from you again, keeping the hand around your neck and scanning your body. "-obnoxious human being I have ever had the displeasure of meeting." Her eyes meet yours and they're still shrank, her eyebrows low as if she's disgusted by you, and her jaw clenched. If she stood like that a second longer, you would have actually believed her words. But she throws her shirt off of her body in a single action and then she's back against you again. You can feel her toned abs pressed against your stomach, and a thigh between your legs that you unwittingly, but willingly, start to ride.

Usually, when you engage in sexual activities, you are the one who's in control, no matter the gender of your partner. There's a difference though, because girls allow you to take control, while guys are surprised when you move on top of them and tell them what to do. And people who identify with neither are overall quite excited about you being the dominant one. With Beca, it's different. She has neither of those reactions. She's not allowing you to take the lead at all. And it's making you embarrassingly excited. Really, though, embarrassing.

"Why am I annoying?" You pant when she finally moves her mouth to your neck, allowing you to breathe again. Beca groans and you think you hear a mumble about how you talk too goddamn much. Well, at least it's something different from 'fucking' for a change.

She goes on until she reaches your collarbone, which turns a switch in your head that reminds you there are better places in this room to be pinned against and better spots to be kissed, so you throw your shirt over your head. Beca had to step back a little because of that move, but you expected her to move back in.

She doesn't.

She just looks at you, profoundly disturbing and weirdly proud as if she's just won first prize in something evil, like taking away the most candy bars from children. You wonder for a second if you're the child and she's the candy bar in this occasion. You move forward to close the gap between the two of you, but she grabs her shirt from the floor and throws it back on. "I have places to be." She says and you have never been more confused as she heads towards the door.

You jump in front of it, standing between her and the door, making sure she can't leave like last time, and you secretly hope she'll get mad at you for your move. "Oh, so you're just gonna leave now?" It sounds more desperate than you intended to, which you hate, because Beca is smirking at you and you just gonna slap it off. Or, you know, kiss it off. Whichever.

But Beca just smiles and moves past you out the door.

Leaving you high and, well, definitely not dry.

This roommate thing is going to be torture.

The next time you see Beca is the following day, because, of course, she didn't come back last night after your super casual make out party. You still don't know where she goes every night. Friday and Saturday nights, you can understand, but who goes out on a Sunday?

With midterms just ending, you have today off and, instead of doing what you should be doing, which is preparing for the next courses, of course all the Bellas are in your room, going over the routine again. Your show is Saturday night and somehow the girls can't decide on who should sing which part. They've been here all morning debating whether it's a good idea to sing The Sign again. Aubrey is the captain, so obviously she gets the bigger hand in the saying, but all the girls are for trying something new. You get it, because every little performance and gig you got this semester, The Bellas played that song. You've only known these new girls for a few weeks and they are already not getting along with you and Aubs. And that's just the singing. You get a headache just thinking about dance practice tonight. It's not like the new girls are bad at dancing, not at all. They just have a hard time following the routine. Stacie, for example, is a great dancer. You sometimes catch yourself staring at her, not in a creepy way, you're just admiring the way she can move her body. And Cynthia-Rose has some cool moves, she told you they have 'swag', but you're not sure what that means. However, it's not the way Aubrey wants the steps to be. So, to say the least, it's been hard on you to teach them the dance routine in the right way.

"New can be good, Bree." You whisper to your best friend when the other girls are lost in conversation. You don't want them to know you agree with them, because you and Aubrey are supposed to be a team. You are all supposed to be a team.

"Chloe, we are not gonna change everything a few days upfront!"

You guess she's right. Choosing a new song includes figuring out who sings what part again and not to mention the new dance material you have to come up with. Yeah, Aubrey is right. So you tell the girls and after some bickering, they give in and you are glad everyone's happy again. You hand everyone a sheet of the lyrics, as if they don't already know them, and you play the music.

You have to admit, it's not perfect.

A lot of the new girls are trying out things that are not written on that sheet, which pisses Aubrey off and you spend most time trying to calm everyone down. By the time you hit play for the seventh time, the girls are sounding better and Aubrey even lets it slip a few times when Fat Amy does whatever she wants, per usual. That girl is not to hold back.

They're halfway through the song when Beca barges in. She stops and scans your group of friends, eyeing Jessica and Ashley angrily that makes the two of them jump off your roommate's bed and hop on yours instead. The girl mumbles "for fuck's sake" when her eyes reach Aubrey and then, with a shake off the head, lets herself fall onto her bed. Her face is buried in her pillow and her feet hang off the side. You check the time and see it's just past noon.

Theory about her being an afternoon sleeper confirmed.

Beca lies like that for three and a half songs, but when you want to hit play for the twelfth time, you get hit in the face by a pillow that smells like her and- okay you really shouldn't be having flashbacks of her shoving you into that wall and biting down your neck.

"If you play that song one more time, I can't be held accountable for my actions."

Aubrey is up on her feet, of course she is, and Beca follows her brave.

"Aca-cuse me, but what's wrong with this song?"

"I'm pretty sure it died back in 1852."

"Music can't die. The punk look you're wearing however-"

Once again you have to step in between your best friend and your new roommate, pushing them both back into their own sides of the room and you're glad they don't resist.

"What the even are you guys doing, anyway?" Beca mumbles when she grabs her headphones and puts them on, seeming to not care about the answer. You give her one anyway.

"We are a close and talented group of girls who sing covers of songs, but without any instruments. It's all from our mouths."

Her eyebrows raise at that, so you assume she's heard you. She tells you she knows what an acapella group is and flops back onto her bed with music blasting through her headphones for everyone else to hear, too.

You get back to practicing, but somehow your eyes keep finding the small brunette and you're more interested in the music she's listening to than the one song you've been hearing on repeat for the past hour. You send the girls away after a little while, telling them you have some schoolwork to do and you'll meet them tonight for dance practice. Aubrey looks at you funny, probably noticing you're lying and you just want them to leave so you can talk to Beca, but she leaves, too, without questions asked.

The door closes behind them and you'd hoped Beca would lose the headphones and engage in a conversation, even if most of it is complaining about your taste in music or how terrible your friends are. But the girl just stays still on her bed, laptop on her lap and her wireless headphones on, loud. You kick yourself mentally for actually thinking she would be a normal human for once.

So you decide to take initiative again, like you usually do with people, Beca should be no exception. This time when you sit down on her bed, you take the very end of it next to her bag and you move slowly, careful not to startle her again, and to your surprise, she doesn't run away, but the way she death glares at you isn't much of an improvement either. You hit at her leg to take off the headphones and she scoffs mockingly, ignoring you and continuing to work on something on her laptop.

Of course, she just can't make things easy.

"Hey, what are you doing?" You feel a bit awkward, talking to someone you know can't hear you. So you tap her leg lightly again and her eyes dart to yours.

She hits her headphones back and snaps "What?!" You feel yourself shrink three sizes, but you regain yourself. You are not the one someone can break with a simple word.

"I was just thinking maybe we can talk. About, some things." You hint, but you're not sure at what. At last night? At Aubrey? You just know you wanna talk to her.

"For God's sake!" Beca spits out you can't say that shocks you anymore. "And you wonder why I'm never in this room. All you wanna do is talk, talk, talk."

"What's so wrong with t-"

"I'm not here to make friends, okay!"

You nod at that and sit back down on your own bed. You think you've tried enough for today.

A few hours later you're both still in the room. You don't think you've ever been in the girl's presence for this long, yet it doesn't feel as good as you figured it would. That has everything to do with your earlier conversation, if you can even call it that.

You had given up trying to get Beca to make eye contact with you after that. She's too into whatever was on her screen to see you staring right at her, and her music was too loud for you to even try and get her attention. Besides, you're supposed to leave her alone. At least for today. So, you figured you might as well take yourself up on the little lie you told the girls earlier and get to studying.

Except you can't get anything to stick to your memory. It's funny how you can read words, understand what they are telling you, and somehow they get lost on the way to your memory. Maybe it's because something else is running through your mind. Taking up every corner there that there's just no more room for anything else. You think about why she refuses to talk to you. Why she's so angry all the time. Why she's even in college if she's just going to sleep all through the classes. And you still have no idea where she goes at night. Your mind takes you to the fact that maybe she has a boyfriend or a girlfriend where she stays at, but you shake that thought off. You don't know why. Maybe because she kissed you last night and the idea of you being used to cheat with disgusts you. And then you're thinking about her lips again. It's inevitable, really. You've been thinking about that ever since she broke up the kiss. It's funny to you how they tasted like nachos, and her bottom lip was broken and dry, craving water as if she's been drinking too much alcohol for them to handle.

You probably would have thought about the way her mouth moved for the rest of the afternoon, had Beca not gotten up and slapped you out of your thoughts. She heads into the closet and your eyes follow her until she's back again, and before you can open your mouth to say, really anything, because you're Chloe Beale and you don't really have a filter, she mumbles something that you can't make out before throwing the door closed behind her. She had a towel and some clean clothes thrown over her arm, so you can guess what it is she's said.

Suddenly, your room is quiet. Well, it was already quiet, but it's really quiet now. Empty is a better word, maybe. It hasn't even been two whole weeks, but you don't remember what it was like having the room to yourself. How could you stand this silence? It's a dumb thing to think, because before today, you have only shared approximately ten minutes with Beca in this room together, so it's stupid. It's really stupid. But you've gotten used to her, still not fully unpacked, bag sitting on the end of her bed, the few pieces of clothing she has hanging in the closet and her black mug in the kitchen. (It's the only black thing in there, and of course it's Beca's. Everything else is yellow, or pink, or some other shiny color that you love.)

You jump to your feet and pace the room, thinking of a way to get your new roommate talking to you. She's quick to flee the room whenever you try, so you think about setting up a trap. Something she can't escape from. Not like, using ropes or anything. Just-

You can feel your mouth moving into a grin and your eyes feel ten times brighter at the idea you just got. You don't think it through and head down towards the shower stalls immediately.

You can try one more thing for the day until you call it quits.

When you've reached the right floor, it's rather empty, which makes sense, because it's a Monday afternoon, the day before the new courses begin. The last thing on anyone's mind right now is the way they smell. As you set foot on the tiled floors and make your way past the sinks, you hear something. It's soft and vulnerable, almost. "Singing?" You whisper to yourself. The voice is familiar yet unlike anything you've ever heard. With every step you come closer, the more certain you are that this is Beca. Singing. Your awfully, grumpy, rude roommate is singing. It almost fools you into thinking this is the voice of a nice, beautiful, decent human being. Well, she is kind of beautiful, you guess. On the outside. But none of the other things, which can also turn you ugly.

You've always hated rude people. That's the only thing you can't stand. You can understand a lot of 'bad' emotions. Anger often means they're stressed and something triggered them to snap. Or in Beca's case, it's an obvious defense mechanism. Used to scare people off and not let anyone get too close. You reckon it's probably due to something in her past, and you would be lying if you said you didn't care to know exactly what it was that made her this way. While you're at it, you have the liars. People lie to either make themselves feel better or to protect the one they are lying to. It's not a good reason to lie, it's actually a pretty dumb one, but there is at least some reason behind it and you guess you can understand why someone would choose to make that decision. (You wouldn't, though. And just because you understand, doesn't mean you have to forgive someone who's lied to you. Tom slips into your mind, but Beca's voice echoing around the room keeps you grounded as you move along the stalls.)

To shorten things up, you can understand most things. You get why people make certain decisions and how that doesn't define them as a person. Everyone gets angry once in a while. Everyone lies. (You too, just now even, to your friends. But you would never lie about things that matter.) However, if you're rude, you've lost all respect on her side. It's just something you will never be able to understand. Why would someone be rude?

Beca was rude. When she ignored you on your first run in. The way she gazed over your friends as if they were infected with some kind of disease. The way she threw those abusive words at Aubrey. There was no need for that. And there was no reason to.

Beca was mostly rude when she called you rude. You still can't understand why she said that. Would she mean it?

Normally, you'd never even want to have anything to do with someone who is overall rude. But there's something about Beca that draws you in. You think that maybe she's like one of those complex puzzles your dad used to bring home with him back when you lived in Colorado with him and you spent the whole night figuring it out. (You always solved it.)

"You sing?!" Your hand was on the shower curtain before you realized what you were doing and those two words slipped between your lips in your usual high-pitched voice. Again, no filter. It doesn't even surprise you. You know yourself well enough to know you do most things out of spontaneity.

"Dude!" Her voice is louder than most times you heard her speak and you only got a peek of skin before the curtain is covering most her body. You smile because of course she's the kind of person to cover up.

"You were totally singing! Titanium, right?"

"You know David Guetta?"

"Have I been living under a rock? Yeah, that song is my jam. My lady jam."

"Gross." Her nose pitches up and you can't help but think she looks adorable. "I thought Swedish bands were your jam?"

You don't quite get what she's trying to say, and it must show, because her head shakes one quick time and you even think you hear a stutter as she continues.

"Cause, Ace of Base is Swedish. The one that sings 'The Sign'?"

Yeah, she was definitely stuttering. "Oh." It's all you say and you just smirk at her. She's obviously out of her comfort zone and if you can get her to stutter after just one look, you're curious to see what else you can get away with.

But her face changes back into her usual, defensive one; eyebrows low, eyes small and her jaw locked. "You can get the fuck out now." She says calm. You wonder if she always uses the word 'fuck' so much, or if it's just because she knows you hate it.

"You sure know your music." You continue as if she never said anything. "Is that what you do? Do you study Music? You're totally in Arts and Culture, right?"

She turns your back on you and sighs heavily, her head resting against the tiles in front of her. "You come in here to ask me what I study?" She's still pretty calm, but her voice sounds annoyed. You are more interested however in the tattoo she has on her back. It's a painting of some flowers and it takes up her entire right shoulder blade. You think back to the first time you saw her and you're pretty convinced what you saw on her right arm was a tattoo after all. You wonder if she has more. Where she has more. If they hurt. Or if she liked the pain.

You shrug and look around the small stall as if you're not entirely sure why you came down here. (You aren't.)

"If I answer your fucking question, will you get the hell out?" She has turned back to face you and some droplets of her wet hair hit your face lightly. You don't flinch.

"No." You smile and you can tell she's getting angry. Her fists clench in the shower curtain and she's grinning her teeth together. It is too cute. "Maybe I would've taken that offer before I knew you could sing. Now, I want something else."

You think back to the first Trembles party you ever attended. You drank way too much and you made eye contact with some guy you never saw again after that night. It was the first time Aubrey said you had your 'predator smile' on. In the way you feel your lips curling, you know you're wearing it again.

"No." The girl in front of you states firmly, as if she knows what she's saying no to. "I will not join your little group of misfits and idiots, just because I can keep a tone and they can't."

Okay, so maybe she does know.

Your face must show that you don't exactly know what to reply to that. You didn't think she could read you that easily. But she's raising her one eyebrow and tips her head in a proud and fulfilling way that disgusts you.

"Am I wrong?" She asks smirking.

"No, but you're not right either." Now she's the one confused and you get to look cocky. You take a confident step forward and if she could flee, she would. But she's trapped between the two walls and your body. "I said 'make a deal'. What kind of deal would it be if you didn't get anything out of it?"

This is the person you would recognize as yourself again. Confident. Taking control. Getting what you want. (You know you will.) You can even add sexy to that list, because the way your shirt leaves your body gets a gasp out of the girl in front of you. You're happy you decided to put on a bra this morning, because you don't just wanna give everything away right this second. You close in on her until your chests are pressed together, the curtain being the only thing in between you, and you bring your face next to hers.

"Unless you don't want to hear my offer?"

You think it sounds seductive and by the way you hear Beca swallow hard, you think it did the trick. You could easily move in now. Feel her again like you did that night. See if she tastes different this time. Or if she ate nachos again today. You wouldn't really care.

But you don't.

You wait.

It's hard, though. You didn't think it would be this hard to keep your hands to yourself. Maybe it's the fact that she's naked just behind that piece of plastic. Maybe it's because this is new and exciting. (It definitely has nothing to do with Beca as a person or that you might be attracted to her. Definitely not.)

"What's the offer?" She asks after at least a minute of silence. It's whispered. When you look up at her, you see her eyebrows are leveled at normal height, her pupils are dilated and her jaw isn't clenched. You can't really read this look, but you know one thing.

You won.

You totally won.

Your lips connect first and then you're at her neck, her chest and before you can register anything that's happening, you're down on the ground in front of her. You can feel the water ruining your pants from the knees down, but Beca's hand is gripping your hair and, in this moment, you only care about the way she's panting and buckling her hips to rid your face.

In the short time you have known Beca, you've only seen a few different faces from her. The angry one more often than anything else. But there's also her face when she's just awake, which is usually around dinner time, where she rubs her eyes and her mouth opens and closes twice, as if she's at a wine tasting trying out a Chardonnay. (Although you don't really see her as the wine type.)

Then there's the face she has on when she listens to music and does whatever it is she does on that laptop. It's not even anything near a relaxed state, but it's the closest you've seen from her. Her eyes are super focused, and sometimes she closes them for a few seconds, her head bopping back and forth with her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. When she opens them after that, it's like she's just figured out a cure for cancer. Her hands move faster than ever at that and you have asked yourself if maybe the only good thing she has in her life is music.

You thought that was your favorite 'Beca-face'. The one where she's probably most in her zone. But when you replace your mouth with your fingers and stand up in that cold shower stall, pushing your fingers inside her hard and feeling her walls clench around you, you've stood up just in time to watch a whole other face.

And, yeah, that music-face has nothing on this one.

"Now what?" She asks you when she's caught her breath and her heart isn't racing anymore.

"Now, we've got a Bellas' dance practice." You state proudly. You cannot wait to tell the girls this.

(Well, not all of it. You'll just tell them half of the deal you just closed.)

A/N: Just a oneshot for now. Who knows, maybe I'll write more..? Let me know if you want a multichap ;)