Meet Me at Stagedoor

Chapter 4

The sun reflected off her fair skin, bouncing in every direction. Closing her eyes and laying her head back, using her towel as a pillow, Beca attempted to fall asleep. Finally, after working for hours upon hours on projecting her voice and memorizing lines and doing whatever she was told to do, classes were finally over. Sometimes she wished she could just take music classes, but as you got older the camp wanted to create diverse artists that had skills in every area. Luckily, she had been able to switch into primarily music classes with a few acting classes here and there.

Now that all the younger campers had scurried off to the mess hall to pig out on whatever had been laid on the tables, Beca finally had a chance to be by herself. This was her favorite part of the day. Many times she would bring a playlist of all her new mixes so she could listen to them with fresh ears, finding problem areas to tweak later back at her cabin. Other times she would bring her lunch down, munching on an apple and cracking open some pistachios, but today she just wanted to sleep. Chloe was off doing who knows what, probably choreographing some new dance in the studio like she always seemed to be doing. She would be gone for another good hour or so, Beca had the brilliant idea of catching up on some sleep. Even on school days she slept in later, but that was probably on account of her number of absences to first period calculus. These early waking hours were getting more brutal every year.

The sand tickled her feet and the sounds of the waves crashing on the short acted as her personal sleep inducer. Turning off her phone so she wouldn't be distracted, she buried her toes in the dampness and concentrated on the hushed lull of the water. She could just imagine being off in some empty beach in the Caribbean or something.

She would've fallen asleep in an instant if it wasn't for the sounds of a person wading in the water. Opening one eye, she managed to catch a glimpse of a boy pulling his shirt over his head, the lines of his abs clearly defined.

"Like what you see, Mitchell," Jesse said, giving her a wide smile as she scoffed in disgust, "It's hard not to." He turned towards her, his chest clearly visible. It was harder than she thought to divert her eyes, but she managed to do so after a few, prolonged seconds. Before he knew it, she was back to her own, sarcastic self.

"Oh, yeah. The view's amazing. I know what you mean, but there is this one part that's kinda ruining it. Do you think you could, I don't know, move a little bit out of the way, Swanson?" She was now sitting up, matching his gaze. With a sly smile, Jesse came towards her, his arms open wide. Beca, realizing his evil plan, had already jumped to her feet, brushing the sand off her legs.

"Don't you dare," she warned, her finger wagging in his face. She could feel the goosebumps already popping up from just thinking about his drenched body around hers. Beca was comfortable on the warm sand, heating up her body all the light rays bounced off the ground. Her warning fell on deaf ears because Jesse wrapped his arms around her petite frame, droplets of water dripping down his exposed body.

Beca shivered at his touch. She convinced herself that it was the cold water rather than him that had this effect on her. As she was about to protest, Jesse picked her up, bridal style, and began walking towards the water. Beca banged her tiny fists on his chest but it was no use because once the water started splashing up to the middle of Jesse's thighs, he dropped her in the water, her facial expression priceless.

"I'm gonna kill you, Swanson," she yelled, her hair dripping against her back. Standing on two feet, she splashed him, water dripping off his tufts of hair onto his face. Opening his mouth in surprise, Jesse returned the favor by sending a wave of his own towards her.

Once they were both fully soaked, she wrung the sides of her t-shirt out before realizing that it was never going to work. Letting out a deep sigh, she pulled the fabric over her head and bunched it up in a tight ball. All the while, Jesse couldn't take his eyes off of her. Her hair was all disheveled, darkening in color as a result of the water. Pieces fell in the front of her face and he had to fight the urge to push the behind her ear.

Somehow, even though he hadn't began to fully realize it until this summer, the pout on her lips looked cuter that he remembered from previous years. Her eyes sparkled more and sometimes he couldn't tear his eyes away from her own. What was wrong with him?

Beca, on the other hand, raised her eyebrows when she notice Jesse looking at her, his gaze was somewhere else but definitely not on her eyes. Holding back a laugh, she responded, "I think the real question isn't whether I like what I see, but do you...and I think the answer is pretty obvious."

Jesse shook his head, refocusing his attention. This was Beca Mitchell. I mean, really? Beca Mitchell. Get your thoughts straightened out. This was the girl that stolen his rehearsal time more times than he could count, always standing in the room with a smug look on her face as she continued to practice. Beca was the girl that always took the last chocolate chip cookie from the tray and only offered him a quarter of it. She was the girl that drove him crazy in chorus, making him feel like he was always running to keep up with her continual improvement. Here was the only person that beat him on guitar hero, reclaiming her title everytime he challenged her.

But, she was also the person whose passion and talent were busting through the walls of this place, begging to reach for bigger and better things that were bound to happen. Beca was the girl that never had a facade in front of him, not afraid to tell him what she really thought. She was the one who stole an extra cookie for him one day when the teacher had been extra hard on him. She was the girl who was starting to more like a woman and less like a girl everyday.

He must've blinked and somehow her long, stringy hair that was always pulled up in a ponytail when she was little transformed into soft, loose curls that hung past her shoulders. Her long, gangly legs had, by some means, become toned and unblemished, exposed every time she wore shorts. Beca Mitchell, as if overnight, was still the Beca Mitchell he had known from years prior but was also someone that Jesse couldn't help but gawk at sometimes.

He looked her up and down, noticing the curves of her body that he had never looked at before. He watched the drops of water running down her body from her soaking hair and how little was left to the imagination since she was wearing a bikini top and denim shorts, not saying that he was ever going to try to use his imagination. This was Beca, no, this was Mitchell. What was wrong with him? He should go to the nurse and lay down for a bit.