Beca stared at the card on her nightstand for the hundredth time that evening. Chloe’s name, scribbled in neat, confident handwriting, along with her number. Private. Personal.
She’d been holding onto it for three days.
It was ridiculous. She was acting ridiculous. This was just a phone call. People did this all the time. Normal people. And Beca was, despite everything, a mostly normal person. Except apparently, when it came to Chloe Beale.
Beca’s phone felt heavy in her hand as she paced her tiny bedroom, the room that had been the study when she and Jesse had been LIVING TOGETHER living together. From the Bed in a Box she slept on to the chest of drawers she’d dragged home two blocks from where she’d found it on the curb and had evicted its possum tenants from, her space didn’t really sell the idea that her life was on an upward trajectory. Or that she was prime dateable material. She really needed to work on her housing arrangements. Beca stared at the card held between two fingers like it might self-destruct at any moment. Jesse’s voice echoed in her head, the smug bastard: “You’ve got to call her. You can’t just play it cool forever.”
Cool. Right. Because she was so good at being cool.
Look how she handled coming out to Jesse.
Blurting out “I’m gay and we should break up” in the middle of watching one of his favorite movies, Jaws, for the umpteenth excruciating time. Being unable to endure his play by play of every scene they were watching may have been the trigger that finally pushed her to admit something she’d been wrestling with for months.
Beca took a deep breath, dropped down onto her bed, and dialed the number before she could overthink it anymore. It rang once, twice, and then—
“Hello?”
Chloe’s voice was warm, playful, and Beca’s heart did a ridiculous flip-flop in her chest.
“Hey. It’s Beca. From the studio. And… your basement.” She winced. Wow. Smooth.
There was a pause, and for one terrifying moment, Beca thought Chloe might not remember her. But then Chloe’s voice brightened. “Beca! I was wondering if you’d ever call. Thought maybe I scared you off.”
Beca let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “You? Scare me off? Nah.” She hoped Chloe couldn’t hear the nerves in her voice. “I just… I’ve been busy. With work and, you know, other… stuff.”
Chloe laughed, a light, musical sound that made Beca’s chest feel warm. “Oh, yeah? Busy watching other musicians from the back of the room?”
Beca’s face went hot. “I wasn’t… I was just… you’re really good. Like, stupidly good.”
“Aww, thank you,” Chloe purred. “I noticed you watching me. It was cute.”
Cute? Beca was fairly sure her heart had just exploded. “Uh… yeah. Well. I was just… observing. You know, for… professional reasons.”
“Sure. Professional reasons.” Chloe’s tone was teasing, but there was a softness beneath it. “I’m glad you called, Beca.”
Beca found herself smiling, nerves easing just a little. “Yeah? I mean, of course. I… had fun. At your house. In your basement.”
Shut up mouth. Shut the hell up, you stupid orifice.
“Me too,” Chloe agreed, her voice dipping slightly, completed unfazed by Beca’s attempts at conversation. “I’d like to do it again. Maybe somewhere a little quieter?”
Beca’s heart did another ridiculous flip. “Yeah. I’d like that too.”
“How about this Friday? You free?”
Beca’s brain short-circuited. Friday. As in, a date. With Chloe Beale. Somehow, she managed to keep her voice steady. “Yeah. I’m free.”
“Perfect. I’ll text you the details. Looking forward to it, Beca.”
“Me too,” Beca murmured, trying to keep her voice from cracking. “Uh… see you then.”
“Goodnight, Beca.”
The line went dead, and Beca stared at her phone for a solid minute, trying to process what had just happened. Chloe Beale had asked her out. On a date. And she hadn’t completely screwed it up.
She leaned back against her bed, grinning like an idiot, heart racing. For once, Jesse had been right.
She couldn’t play it cool forever.
And to prove that point, Beca immediately started jumping up and down on her mattress, yelling “I’ve got a date, I’ve got a date, I’ve got a date with a hot redhead” to the empty apartment until she fell off her bed on one mistimed bounce and hit the floor. Hard.
It turned out that showing up for your first date with Chloe Beale sporting a black eye and a large and interesting coloured bump on your forehead was a definite icebreaker.
Who knew?