Beca stood in front of the full length mirror in her bedroom, her hands running nervously down the floral fabric of her dress. The long sleeves clung to her arms, and a dainty belt cinched her waist. When she turned her waist, the dress flared around her ankles, showing off the delicate white kitten heels that matched the belt perfectly.
The makeover Jesse had paid for had been thorough: light makeup softened her features, and her hair had been styled into neat waves. By all accounts, she looked stunning. The dress was objectively pretty. But as she stared at her reflection, all she could think was… this isn’t me.
Her chest tightened, the familiar sense of inadequacy settling in like an old, unwelcome friend. It wasn’t the dress—not really. It was the nagging thought that she’d never been enough as she was. Everyone always seemed to want her to change: to be softer, prettier, more palatable. Jesse had said he wanted her to make a good impression on his parents, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was about more than that.
“Why are you upset, Becs?” Jesse’s voice snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts. He stood in the doorway of her room, watching her with a puzzled expression. He glancing impatiently at his Apple Watch again. They still had enough time to get to the dinner with the Swansons on time but as Jesse had repeatedly reminded Beca, in the Swanson family being on time was the same as arriving late. One of the many business axioms Mr. Swanson, a mid level stockbroker, had drilled into his son. And like all the other dried nuggets of stale wisdom from his dear old dad, a cliché the younger Swanson had taken to heart.
“This dress isn’t me,” she said quietly, unable to meet his eyes. “Why doesn’t anyone ever love me for me?”
“That’s not fair,” Jesse replied, his tone defensive. “I’m trying to help you. I just want you to be the best version of yourself.” He barely tried to hide his impatience anymore. “First impressions are very important to people like my parents” Left unspoken was the fact that Beca as she really was would not be viewed favourably by her boyfriend’s parents.
She turned to face him, a lump forming in her throat. “Why can’t you just let me be myself? Why do I have to change to make you or your parents happy?”
Before he could respond, there was a knock at the door, and Chloe stepped in. Her bright blue eyes softened the moment she saw Beca’s distressed expression.
“Hey,” Chloe said gently. “Can I talk to Beca for a minute?”
Jesse hesitated but eventually nodded, stepping out of the room with a frustrated sigh. Chloe closed the door behind him and walked over to Beca, who was blinking rapidly, clearly trying not to cry.
“Talk to me, Becs,” Chloe said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“I just… I feel like I’m not good enough,” Beca admitted, her voice trembling. “Jesse’s parents haven’t even met me yet, and I already feel like I’ve failed some test. And this dress… I hate it. It’s not me. I don’t know who I’m even trying to be anymore.”
Chloe’s heart ached at Beca’s words. She’d always admired Beca’s fierce independence and unapologetic attitude. Seeing her doubt herself like this was gut-wrenching. Chloe had been in love with Beca for years, though she’d never said a word. Beca’s happiness meant more to her than anything, and it killed her to see her like this.
“Then let’s fix it,” Chloe said with a small smile. “Come on. I have an idea.”
An hour later, Beca stood in front of the mirror again, but this time, she was smiling. She wore a sleek black sheath dress that showed off her tattoos, paired with a cropped leather bolero jacket. Chloe had helped her touch up her makeup, adding a bit more edge to match the outfit. She looked and felt like herself again.
“Now, that’s Beca Mitchell,” Chloe said proudly.
Beca grinned. “Thanks, Chlo. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
When she stepped out of the bedroom, Jesse’s mouth dropped open in surprise and then a scowl appeared on his face. With a hissed, “Hurry up, we’ll be late” he grabbed Beca’s hand and dragged her down the stairs and out of the Bella’s house.
Chloe watched them leave, her heart sinking. Her instincts told her that this evening was not going to be a pleasant one for her best friend and secret crush.
The redhead’s instincts were bang on.
The dinner was a disaster.
Mr. and Mrs. Swanson, as they insisted on being called, made it clear from the first that they were less than impressed with the youngest son’s choice of partner.
Jesse’s parents made thinly veiled comments about her “unconventional” appearance and questioned her future career choices. Jesse barely defended her, instead growing increasingly annoyed with her as the night went on.
His father made veiled digs about the music industry and the type of people, (immoral people), who worked in the business. His mother talked about her two eldest sons, their wives and their grandchildren and how they lived sensible lives, close to the parents and always made the conventional, smart, life choices.
Any attempt Beca made to participate in the conversation was shut down or condescended to by Mr. or Mrs. Swanson. Jesse too eventually joined in on the Beca critique, announcing that he knew his girlfriend would come around and straighten up before graduation. After all, she had him to help guide her in making better choices.
By the end of the dinner, Beca had gone silent.
When they left the restaurant, she had her arms wrapped around her waist hugging herself as she walked back to Jesse’s car.
By the end of the evening as they drove back the Bella House, they were arguing in the car.
“I can’t believe you couldn’t just wear the dress,” Jesse said, his tone exasperated. “It’s like you don’t even care about making a good impression.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t live up to your parents’ expectations,” Beca snapped. “But I’m not going to pretend to be someone I’m not.”
“Obviously you don’t love me enough to try,” Jesse shot back. “I’m trying to improve you, Beca. You should be thanking me.”
That was the final straw. Beca made Jesse stop the car in front of an all night diner.
Beca got out of the car without another word and Jesse drove off without a glance backwards.
As she sat herself in a booth she called Chloe, her hands shaking as tears streamed down her face.
“Can you come get me?” she asked when Chloe answered. “I… I can’t do this anymore.”
Chloe didn’t hesitate. “I’m on my way.”
When Chloe arrived, she found Beca sitting in the booth, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Without a word, Chloe pulled her into a hug, holding her until her sobs subsided.
“You don’t have to change for anyone, Beca,” Chloe said softly. “Not Jesse, not his parents. No one. You’re perfect just as you are.”
Beca looked up at her, her eyes red and puffy. “You really think so?”
“I know so,” Chloe said firmly. “And if Jesse can’t see that, he doesn’t deserve you.”
In that moment, something shifted between them. Beca saw the way Chloe was looking at her—with so much love and admiration—and realized she’d been blind to what had been in front of her all along.
“Thank you,” Beca said, her voice barely above a whisper. “For always being there for me.”
“Always,” Chloe promised.
Over the next few weeks post breakup, Beca began to rebuild her confidence, with Chloe by her side every step of the way. And as they spent more time together, their friendship deepened into something more. It wasn’t long before Beca realized she didn’t just feel safe with Chloe—she felt loved. Truly, unconditionally loved.
One evening, as they sat on the Bella’s couch watching a movie, Beca turned to her, her heart pounding.
“Chloe?” she said hesitantly.
“Yeah?” Chloe replied, turning to face her.
“I think… I think I love you,” Beca admitted, her cheeks flushing.
Chloe’s eyes widened, and then she broke into a radiant smile. “I’ve been waiting years to hear you say that.”
Beca laughed, relief flooding through her. “So… what now?”
“Now,” Chloe said, leaning in, “we’re going to write our own happy ending.”
As their lips met, Beca finally felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be.
And with exactly who she was meant to be with.
At last.