Personal Best

"Hanging out with Beca is easy and comfortable and the best part of Emily’s day. Even more than swimming sometimes. And she knows it’s a distraction and a complication and probably the way she gets her heart smashed into a million billion zillion pieces, but she doesn’t really care. She likes Beca and she can’t stop. She doesn’t even want to anyway."
OR -- alternate college setting where emily is a young and promising swimmer, beca is an evolved, confident, and mature pp3 type-beca, and everyone may or may not be obsessed with emily's muscles. she certainly can rock a tank top and snapback combo can't she

Notes:

Annoyingly long author's note ahead! Hello, as always, my knowledge on the hobbies and topics covered in the following fic is MINIMAL so sorry in advance to the following people and/or groups: swimming experts, musicians, self-represented producers who used to make mashups and now make lyric-less lo-fi beats, intense board gamers, arugula enthusiasts, jocks obsessed with their muscles, FRIENDS and S/Os of jocks obsessed with their muscles, people who understand how the olympics work?, people who know couples like chacie, couples who ARE like chacie, angst lovers, people who always guess my plot twists because they're obvious, and finally, those who listen to me cryptically scream about my fics without giving anything away bc i don't want them to be spoiled while also sort of spoiling them a little. your support, forever, keeps me somehow writing these soft nerds despite claiming to have abandoned them many, many times by now. Thank you repeatedly and indefinitely. i adore you :) Okay, that's over, thankfully, so now let's hop to it!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

It’s quiet underwater.

That’s probably what she likes the most. The way it cushions the noise, the force of movement from anyone else even a few feet away. Underwater, she’s alone, even when she isn’t.

Her freshman year, they did a team meditation exercise during Finals week where they had to imagine the place they feel most at peace. It really was the only place she could think of, although the beaches at home were a close second. She’d mentally sat herself on the bottom of the pool, an endless supply of oxygen bubbling from her lips as the volunteer from the campus Health and Wellness Center eased them through a gentle meditation. Breathe in, breathe out. Inhale four, exhale eight.

Maybe the meditation was supposed to be an escape from swimming, if she really thinks about it. A way to leave the stress of constant expectations behind. But despite the external pressure from her teammates and the way it eats up all of her time, swimming isn’t something that stresses her out.

Swimming is her happy place. Always has been.

Or it was, anyway, before she met Stacie Conrad, annoying teammate and Emily’s best friend of several years.

“What’s your personal best?” It’s the first thing Stacie says to her when she surfaces. She peers down at Emily, thumb resting on the stopwatch button.

Emily barely has the energy to register the question. Her chest heaves and her goggles are fogging up. She’d just swam harder than she ever has in her life, probably, and she needs a second to readjust. “What?” She gasps.

“Your personal record. What is it?”

Stacie’s bare feet dangle over the edge of the pool and Emily grabs at the wall with her fingertips on either side of her legs. “Why?” She grins. “Was my time good?”

Stacie just raises an eyebrow. “Let’s make a deal.”

Emily groans. Stacie is always trying to make a deal with her. “What kind of deal?” She slides her goggles off and sets them poolside, wiping her eyes.

“Okay so how about if you just beat your PR, you come out with me tonight.”

“No.”

Stacie pouts. “I didn’t even tell you where! It’s not a party. It’s just a caj thing.”

“Everytime I go out with you, you ditch me!”

“Yeah, okay, that’s fair, but. This is just at someone’s apartment, you know? A small get together. Like with board games and stuff. Not even real drinking games.” Stacie gives her a winning smile. “Totally your scene.”

Emily resists the temptation to roll her eyes. “No scene is my scene. This is my scene.” She gestures to the pool. Around her, her teammates splash their way down lanes, perfecting strokes and breathing techniques and flipturns.

Stacie scrunches her nose. “That makes me, like… totally sad, babe.”

Emily snorts. “Sorry?”

“Okay, please, though?”

“Why? You don’t need me. You make friends anywhere you go. I’m just like your awkward, hovering shadow.”

“Okay, it’s just.” Stacie sighs wistfully. “There’s this girl.”

Emily’s lips twitch. “Oh, but there’s always some girl or some guy, isn’t there?”

“Yes, okay, you’re totally valid, I know this. However . I actually really like this one, like, for more than just a fling. And she’s so cute, and so sexy, and she’s so into me, Em, I swear to God.”

Emily finally laughs. “Okay, so why do you need me, then?”

“Becaaaause,” Stacie uncharacteristically whines. “It’s a game night and she asked me to bring someone so there are even teams or something, I don’t know. Please come.” Then Stacie softens, circling her feet around Emily’s back in a makeshift hug. “Anyway, I just think it would be good for you. You deserve a break.”

Emily hums, leaning her cheek into Stacie’s calf. “It’s just like… games. Nothing crazy?”

“Swear. It’s gonna be totally chill.”

“Ugh. Fine.”

Stacie beams. “Yes!”

“I’ll come if I just beat my PR.”

“Which is?”

“4:09:53.”

Stacie relinquishes her hold around Emily’s back with a quirk of an eyebrow and stands up. “Well then.”

“What was the time?”

“Be ready to go at 8:30?”

“Stacie.”

Stacie just laughs and lets the stopwatch settle poolside. “See you at home!”

Emily watches her friend walk away, waiting until she’s disappeared down the hallway toward the locker room. Then she heaves up on her elbows to peer at the stopwatch.

4:08:57.

Crap , she thinks.

But she eases back off the wall, a smile pulling at her lips as she once again slips beneath the water.

Emily’s often heard complaints on campus that the weather is hot in Atlanta, even in the Fall and Winter, but she’s a Cali girl at heart and feels right at home in the 80 degree weather. The only difference is the humidity, but she doesn’t mind it. It makes the ends of her hair curl in a way it never would naturally on the West Coast. Saves her time in the morning messing with her curling iron.

She absentmindedly turns her face toward the warm sun as she longboards down the sidewalk toward her 8AM. It’s still early, only 7:40, and the campus is practically empty. She adjusts the snapback on her head and pushes her earbuds more firmly in her ears as she rolls over a wide crack in the sidewalk. Pushing herself along, she scrolls through the Spotify playlist she’s pulled up on her phone. It’s the new EP by one of her favorite artists and she’s praying there’s multiple new ones that can go on her Running playlist.

Her Running playlist is kind of a big deal to her. Something she’s meticulously put together with as much care as she puts into her studies.

The thing is, Emily really hates running. It’s way too high-impact for her. That’s why she’s a swimmer. But running, unfortunately, is part of her workout regimen, carefully curated by the swim team’s trainer. She has a strict workout plan and an even stricter diet, not technically mandatory, but definitely necessary if, according to her parents, all her coaches, the trainers, the nutritionist, and even the director of the campus Rec Center (everyone has an opinion, don’t they?), she wants to qualify for the National, World, and, don’t jinx it!, Olympic teams.

Emily’s not delusional or anything. She’s not beating any world records with her times. They’ve still got a good 10 seconds on her. But dang if she’s not good enough to at least get into the qualifying meets. If she could shave off even one second, she’d be golden.

And the only way to do that, unfortunately, is to run. And the only way to run… is with the perfect playlist.

She’s very particular about the songs she runs to, so her Running playlist is sort of sacred to her. It’s got a lot of girl power-bops and even a few musical ballads, but the beef of her playlist is actually lyricless. In fact, about 80% of the playlist is one artist, an unknown producer Emily discovered one day on an obscure workout mix very deep in the Spotify pre-made playlists.

One song had led to another and soon she was listening nonstop to anything and everything by the artist professionally known simply as BPM, which Emily assumes stands for beats per minute.

BPM has zero full-studio albums, but their whopping 8 EPs were a constant soundtrack to Emily’s life.

It sort of didn’t make sense because Emily was an amateur musician herself and she loved writing her own lyrics. She was a Literature major with a focus in poetry. Yet, Emily was very much aware that she owed her entire athletic and academic success to BPM’s lyricless songs. They were background noise while she studied, pump-up music before meets, and, yes, just about the only songs she could run to.

As she longboards to class, thu-thunking her way over the cracks in the sidewalk, a happy kind of peace fills her chest as the perfect song to add to her running playlist fills her ears.

It’s going to be a good day, Emily thinks, despite being persuaded to go to Stacie’s board game thing. There was new music from her favorite artist and Emily had a new personal record.

And it wasn’t even 8AM.

The problem was not that she was shy or antisocial. It was kind of the opposite.

For Emily, navigating a social landscape was the exact antithesis of being in the pool. In the pool, Emily was in control. She was fluid as she moved through the water. Smooth. Confident.

Outside of the pool she was physically, mentally, and socially clumsy. She was awkward, loud. Every conversation was a stutter step of uncertainty.

In the pool, it was just her. She knew exactly what to do. In conversation? There were several other factors at play, and Emily didn’t always get them right.

Going to parties and bars and “caj board game nights” with Stacie wasn’t something she necessarily disliked. It just was something that made her feel a little like… well, like a fish out of water.

“Forgot to tell you before we left, but you look hot tonight.” Stacie grins over at her as they walk down the hallway to the apartment where this game night thing is happening.

Emily hums, looking down. Stacie had said casual, so Emily had taken that to heart. She was in skinny jeans and her swim team windbreaker, her hair wavy down her back.

“Is that a hint or something?”

“What? No.” Stacie stops in front of a door and knocks. She glances at Emily with a shrug. “You look like you. And that’s hot.”

Emily chuckles. “Okay. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

“Obviously.”

“So who’s the girl?”

Stacie doesn’t have a chance to answer before the door swings open, revealing a pretty girl in a flowy dress with gorgeously long, red hair. Her smile, already wide, grows when she sees Stacie.

“Stacie! Hi!” She pulls Stacie in for a hug, her hands lingering on Stacie’s arms when she pulls back. Stacie makes obvious eyes at Emily.

Ah. This must be the girl.

“Chloe! Thanks for inviting us. This is my roommate, Emily.”

Chloe turns her generous smile in Emily’s direction and Emily can’t help it. The words come of their own accord. “Hi. Chloe. Yes, hey, I’m Emily. Thanks for inviting us! Should be fun. We brought wine! It’s a Merlot? Stacie said it was a game night. We do love games. Not Monopoly, though. Stacie is too competitive.”

Stacie twists her mouth like she’s holding back a laugh and Emily internally cringes. Chloe, impossibly, manages to smile even wider. “Is she? Well, no worries. Monopoly is totally boring. Come in and we’ll crack that bottle open. Beca loves a good Merlot.”

They follow Chloe inside. Stacie nudges their elbows together before slinging her arm over Emily’s shoulders.

“Thanks for coming with me,” she whispers into Emily’s hair. “And if there was Monopoly, just know I’d fucking demolish you, bitch.”

Emily giggles as Chloe gestures toward the table set up in the middle of the living room. A few people are already sitting there. Stacie’s arm leaves her shoulders as they stride forward.

“Guys, this is Stacie and Emily,” Chloe calls from the kitchen. “Feel free to sit down and we’ll start in a minute.”

There’s three girls already at the table and three open chairs. Stacie sits next to the open chair that has a sweater draped over the back, probably belonging to Chloe, leaving Emily to ease down into the remaining chair.

The girl next to her is dressed even more casually than Emily, in plaid pajama pants and a red tank top, her hair in a messy bun. She shoots Emily a polite smile.

“‘Sup,” she says. “I’m Beca.”

“Oh,” Emily smiles. “The Merlot lover.” Beca raises her eyebrows and Emily blushes. “Uh, sorry. We brought wine and Chloe mentioned…”

“That you love Merlot,” Chloe interjects, and a glass appears in front of Beca.

Beca snorts, but takes the glass with a smile. “Creep.” Then she grimaces at Emily. “Not you. I mean Chloe.”

“You love me.”

“I’ll love you better after I drink this.”

Emily laughs and Beca’s lips twitch behind her glass.

“Okay,” Chloe claps excitedly as she sits down in the chair on Stacie’s other side. “I’m so happy we finally got more people. By the way,” she says to Emily and Stacie. “This is Beca, Jessica, and Ashley. Jessica and Ashley are our neighbors.”

They get properly introduced and once everyone has a drink, Chloe takes a box out of the stack of games sitting next to the table.

Beca groans, but Chloe ignores her, grinning widely.

“I hope you guys,” she gushes with a flourish that demands anticipation, “like to sing.”

“My word,” Beca says, “is floor.”

“Floor?” Ashley snorts. “Really?”

“She hit the floor!” Stacie sings. “Next thing you know, Shawty got low low low low low --”

“Fuck.” Beca grumbles as Stacie trails off.

Chloe tsks. “You suck at this game, babe. Okay Stacie go.”

Stacie hums, peering over her trigger word sheet. “Okay, my word is,” she wiggles her eyebrows. “Top.”

Emily nearly chokes on her wine.

“Finallyyyyy! You put my love on TOP. BABYYYY IT’S YOUUUUU.” Emily’s eyes widen as the so far very quiet Jessica belts out. “YOU’RE THE ONE I LOVE. YOU’RE THE ONE I NEEEEED. YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE I SEEEEEEEEEEE.”

“Damn,” Stacie whispers. “You got pipes girl.” Emily nods, starting to clap.

Jessica laughs and pretends to bow. “Thank you. Okay my word is never.”

“WE. Are NEVER ever EVER. GETTING BACK TOGETHER!”

Beca groans and covers her ears. “ENOUGH CHLOE.”

“Party pooper.”

“Just go.”

“My word is dream.”

Emily’s brain tugs at the word. “Oh. Um.” Everyone looks at her and she starts a few lines back in her head to get going, opening her mouth when she gets to the word. “Dream of picket fences and trophy wives. But no, I’m never gonna be -- don’t wanna be, cause I don’t wanna sit still looks pretty!”

“That was good,” Stacie grins at her.

“Thank you. My word is black.”

“It’s going down, fade to Blackstreet, the homies got at me, collab creations, bump like acne, no doubt. I put it down, never slouch as long as my credit can vouch a dog couldn’t catch me ass out...” Everyone whips around to stare at Beca. She hesitates then, “Tell me, who could stop when Dre makin’ moves, given’ ‘em eargasms with my mellow accent. Still movin’ this flavor with the homies Teddy and Blackstreet, the original rumpshakers.”

There’s a second of silence, then Stacie exhales in a rush. “Um. Wow, okay. Hot.”

Beca rolls her eyes, but her cheeks are quickly turning a pale pink. Emily thinks it’s adorable.

“Technically, the word was black,” Chloe giggles, “does Blackstreet count?”

“Don’t do this,” Beca scoffs. “That totally counted.”

Emily hums, impressed. “I say it counts. That was awesome. I mean, who could top that ?”

Beca shoots her a grateful smile from behind her wine glass. Emily’s heart spirals out of her chest and into her stomach.

“TIME!”

“Dang,” Stacie grumbles. “How many was that?”

Beca shuffles through the cards in her hands with a grin. “Eight.”

“Maybe it’s time we throw in the towel, Stace,” Chloe pouts. “They’re killing us.”

“It just doesn’t make sense!” Stacie scoffs. “How does anyone get eight without having, like, inside jokes? They’re strangers!”

Emily holds up her hand and Beca high-fives it. “You’re just jealous your giant brain is useless when it comes to this,” Emily laughs.

“Yeah,” Beca smirks. “Maybe our brains are just compatible and yours aren’t.”

“Hmph.” Stacie slides the timer over to Chloe to put back into the Taboo box with the rest of the game materials. “Well, maybe it’s time Ems and I make like Jessica and Ashley and bail.”

“Oh, don’t be a sore loser,” Chloe chuckles, her fingers trailing over Stacie’s arm and resting somewhere unseen under the table. “At least you’re still hot.”

Stacie winks. “Well, yeah, that’s a given.”

Beca snorts and exchanges a look with Emily. Emily twists her lips to hold back a smile. At first the flirting had been pretty mellow, but around hour three of this game night, Jessica and Ashley had started yawning and left. Since then, Beca and Emily might as well have done the same because if it weren’t for the fact that they were crushing it at Taboo, Chloe and Stacie might not have even noticed they were still there at all.

“So,” Beca says, slumping on her elbow as she looks at Emily. “Chloe say you guys are on the swim team?”

“Yep,” Emily smiles.

“That’s cool. The team is supposed to be, like, really good right? That one girl is setting all the school records and supposedly, like, going to the Olympics or something, I heard.”

Emily hesitates, heat immediately rushing to her cheeks, but Stacie barks out a laugh.

“You mean Emily.”

Beca glances at Stacie before flicking her gaze back to Emily. “Oh, shit. Really?”

“I mean.” Emily shrugs off the question. “Sort of. Not… not the Olympics.”

“Yet,” Stacie interjects. “Not the Olympics yet . Because the trials are in June. But she’s a shoe-in.”

“Wow,” Chloe smiles at her. “That’s super cool.”

Emily scratches at her nose self-consciously. “We’ll see. It’s complicated. You have to qualify to even compete in the trials, so.”

Stacie sniffs doubtfully. “Several of our meets are eligible qualifiers. You’re gonna qualify.”

“That’s pretty dope,” Beca says. “Chloe and I will have to come watch.”

“Oh,” Emily’s entire body feels on fire. “You’d probably be bored. They last like, all day.”

“You should definitely come,” Stacie says, like a big, fat traitor. Emily tries to make eyes at her but she’s looking at Chloe. “If for no other reason than I make swim caps look flattering and that’s a feat in itself.”

Chloe laughs. “Oh, well in that case, we wouldn’t even consider missing it.”

They stare at each other for a second and Emily scrunches her nose. Blech. “Well,” she says after a prolonged moment where Stacie and Chloe make bedroom eyes and Emily realizes she’s about to, once again, probably be ditched. “I should probably head out. But thank you guys so much for having us over. It was super fun!”

Stacie finally tears her eyes away from Chloe’s with a grin. “Yeah, we should all definitely hang out again.” She murmurs something under her breath to Chloe and Chloe smirks. Emily’s shocked when Stacie stands up and walks with her to the door.

They say their goodnights and then they’re out in the hallway, on their way home.

Emily blinks over at Stacie. “You’re not… staying?”

“Nah. I’m building anticipation.”

“Oh.”

Stacie nudges their shoulders together. “Thanks for coming with me. It wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“No,” Emily admits. “It was really fun. Chloe’s nice. I hope it works out for you.”

“Me too.” Stacie loops their arms together. “Now come on, let’s get home. Your early morning routine will not be thanking me at 6AM and I refuse to take the blame for you missing even one day of that Godforsaken workout plan.”

Emily thinks about her plan for the next morning and groans.

Saturdays are Emily’s long run days. Monday through Fridays she’s in the weight room in the late afternoon or evening, followed by a short run, and Sundays are her rest day. Saturdays, though, are Emily’s personal hell, and even the shortest of her long runs make her feel like giving it all up. Anything over a mile and Emily’s wishing she never even heard the word “Olympics”.

She’s already mapped her route. She’s stretched. All that’s left is the music. With a touch of her finger, a quick beat fills her ears. A song off BPM’s new EP. She queues up a few in a row.

That should do it, she thinks. Then, despite everything in her complaining about it, she starts to jog.

They travel to FSU for their first meet of the year.

Emily wins her heats, too easily almost.

Stacie sits next to her on the bus ride home, half-dozing, half-texting. “You’re coming out tonight,” she yawns, poking Emily in the side. “Tomorrow is your rest day and you absolutely crushed it today. Plus, I’m celebrating, and I want my best friend to take shots with me.”

Emily laughs. “Yeah, okay. But only because we’re celebrating.”

Stacie scoffs, and goes back to texting. Emily twirls her earbud absentmindedly around her finger. Stacie had shaved two seconds off her personal record in the 400-meter. Emily’s happy for her friend.

Happy, and a little jealous, too, because despite winning, Emily hadn’t beaten any of her personal best times at all.

She can deal, though. It was the first meet of the year. There’s plenty of time to improve.

Team parties are always pretty crazy. A bunch of the boys live in a massive house off-campus, complete with a pool and huge backyard that faces the lake.

Emily is three nasty whipped cream flavor Burnett’s shots in when Stacie grabs her hand suddenly and turns her so they’re facing each other.

“How do I look?”

Emily scrunches her nose. “You know I think you’re gorgeous.”

“I know , but how do I look?”

Emily runs her eyes over Stacie. “Are you going for hotter or for, like, more presentable?”

“Definitely hotter.”

Emily reaches out and tugs at the bottom of Stacie’s shirt slightly, watching as the neckline sinks slightly so the top of her bra is showing, cleavage on full display. “Okay, perfect.”

“This is why you are my best friend in the whole fucking world. I would literally die for you. You like, get me.”

Emily laughs. “I love you, too.”

“Good, then look at me.” Stacie licks her thumb, then rubs it under Emily’s eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“Smudging your eyeliner.”

“Why?”

Stacie’s eyes glance between hers, admiring her work. She rubs her thumb under Emily’s left eye again, then hums in satisfaction. “Because it looks hot that way.”

“Oh.”

“Chloe texted me that she just got here.”

Emily frowns. “‘Kay... I don’t know what that has to do with my eyeliner.”

“Well, eventually I’m going to be… indisposed. For a few minutes, at least. And I’d like you,” Stacie gives her a look, “to continue to have a good time.”

“Do I have to?”

Stacie tsks. “Don’t joke.” She fluffs out Emily’s hair, adjusts her snapback, rolls the edges of Emily’s windbreaker sleeves off her wrists, and even glances down towards Emily’s jeans, although Emily has no idea how she’d be able to fix jeans .

“Am I to your satisfaction now?”

Stacie laughs. “You always are. Now you’re just extra…”

“Gay looking?”

“ Hot , Emily. Jesus.”

Emily opens her mouth to respond, but doesn’t get the chance. Suddenly there’s red in her field of vision as Chloe slides in to kiss Stacie on the cheek. Emily watches as Chloe’s eyes drift over Stacie’s cleavage. She smirks to herself in satisfaction.

“Hey!” Chloe grins, stepping back, and that’s when Emily sees another person tagging along.

“Hey,” Emily perks up. “Beca.”

Beca gives her a crooked smile. “‘Sup?”

“What, no hello for me?”

Emily laughs. “Hi Chloe. I just was only expecting you so. Beca is a nice surprise.”

“Wow,” Beca scrunches her nose. “I’m pretty sure that’s the first time I’ve been considered a nice surprise. Guess I can die happy now.”

“Oh shut up,” Chloe swats at her with a laugh. “Well, congratulations on the win, you guys!”

“Thanks,” Emily says. “But the star of the show is Stacie. She broke her record.”

Stacie waves off the compliment. “I’m great, we know this. What we’re really here for is to get shitfaced.”

“In that case,” Chloe says, tugging Stacie’s arm toward the kitchen. “I need a drink.”

“Beca?” Emily asks.

“Lead the way.”

In the kitchen, they do a round of shots. Emily decides she’s had enough whipped cream flavor vodka for the evening and only agrees to drink anything else when Stacie suggests they get in line for beer pong.

It's a few games before it’s their turn, and surprising nobody, Stacie claims Chloe as her teammate.

“Any good at this?” Beca asks her as they step up to the table.

“Not really,” Emily admits.

“Cool, me neither.”

Emily laughs, holding out her cup in Beca’s direction. “Well, then here’s to probably not remembering this tomorrow.”

Beca smiles and taps their cups together. “Cheers to that.”

The night is cool, but it feels good on Emily’s hot cheeks.

“So,” Beca says after they’ve been quiet a minute. “The Olympics.”

After they’d won spectacularly in beer pong, Stacie and Chloe had disappeared to celebrate. Emily had decided she’d needed some air and stepped outside, Beca following. They’d sat down in the grass, a ways from the pool, where it was dark and cool and quiet.

Emily hums in acknowledgement, glancing over at Beca. Beca’s leaning back on her hands, head tilted toward the sky. The lights from the house are muted at this distance, gentle on Beca’s profile. Emily’s struck by the soft lines of her cheeks, her jaw, thinks she could stare all night, maybe, if Beca would let her.

But maybe she’s just a little drunk.

“Yeah,” she says eventually. “I guess.”

Beca finally turns toward her. Her eyes look gray in the shadowy darkness. “You don’t sound too excited.”

Emily shrugs. “No. I am.”

“Okay, so?”

Emily sighs, flopping on her back. “Is it a cop out if I say it’s complicated?”

“Only if it’s not actually complicated.” Beca turns and shifts so she’s laying next to Emily, propped up on her elbow. “Is it?”

Emily thinks about it, mulling over her words. She’s never tried to express her feelings to anyone about it before. Not like this. “Everyone already assumes it’s this sure thing. But it’s not. And I just feel like... Everyone has spent a lot of time and energy and planning on it, and maybe it’s all just going to be a waste.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like.” Emily waves her hand in the air abstractly. “I have this plan that I’m supposed to stick to. Like literally this calendar, right? It’s hanging on my fridge. It tells me when to swim, when to run, when to lift weights, when to study, when to eat, what to eat, just, like, everything.”

“For real?” Emily nods and Beca hums. “So do you follow it?”

Emily shrugs. “Yeah, for the most part.”

“Sounds pretty controlling.”

Emily grunts. “I mean, I really don’t even mind it that much. Except the running because, let me tell you, I freakin’ hate running.” Beca laughs. “But like, I just feel like everyone assumes if I follow these guidelines, then there’s no way I won’t make it. So what if I don’t, and then it’s just like…”

“Like a waste,” Beca finishes.

“Yeah.”

“Guess it’s a lot of pressure.”

Emily doesn’t say anything for a minute, just looks at Beca looking at her. Finally, she rolls over and pushes up on her elbow, mirroring Beca. “I dunno. I’m probably gonna make it, I guess. Maybe that’s not the thing about it that bothers me.”

Beca quirks an eyebrow. “So what is then?”

“I don’t know. That it was never about the Olympics, I guess. Everyone wants it to be about that, but it’s just not for me.”

“And what is it about?”

“I’m not even sure.”

Beca’s lips twitch. “So maybe it is complicated.”

“Yes!” Emily gestures wildly with her other hand. “Yes. Maybe it is.” She slumps back down on her back. “Enough about me. What’s your major?”

Beca laughs. “Music theory. What’s yours?”

“English Lit.”

“You like books?”

Emily hums. “I like poetry.”

“So you’re a nerd.”

“Hey. Poetry is cool.”

Beca snorts. “It’s dramatic.”

“So is music.”

“Yeah,” Beca agrees. “True.”

They drift into a comfortable silence, just looking at the stars. Next to her, Beca shivers, running her hands up and down her arms.

“Here,” Emily wiggles out of her windbreaker and tosses it over.

“You’re not cold?” But Beca slides it over her shoulders before Emily can answer.

“Nah,” Emily rolls on her stomach, too wired to settle in one position. “Too drunk to be cold.” Unthinking, Emily reaches out to tug on the collar of the jacket. “Looks good on you. Blue’s your color.”

Beca twists her lips, a small smile peeking through. “Smells like chlorine.”

“Well then give it back.”

“No,” Beca playfully scoffs. “You said I could wear it. I’m gonna wear it. And if you do end up at the Olympics, I’ll tell everyone I know that you once gave me your jacket. They’ll all be very jealous of me.”

Emily’s pretty sure her cheeks heat up, or at least they would, if they weren’t already so warm. She restlessly tugs at the brim of her hat. She sits up, hugging her knees to her chest.

“So maybe it’s not about the Olympics because it’s about me.” She has absolutely no idea where the words come from.

Beca shoves her hands in the jacket pockets and goes still. “In what way?”

“I mean. They’re not my goal. They’re just a consequence of my goal.”

“Which is what?”

“Just to be my best. Every time. To beat my PR.”

Beca crinkles her nose. “Your what?”

“My PR. My personal record.”

“Oh, like the time it takes to swim it.”

“Yeah.” Emily rests her chin on her knees. “To win the race and the medals and stuff, you have to beat everyone else. But for me, swimming is just about beating, well… myself.”

Beca hums thoughtfully. “I mean, that makes sense.”

“It does?”

“Yeah. Music is sort of the same for me.”

“Really?”

Beca shifts in the grass, moving a little closer. “Yeah. Like. You know when you make something, you’re nervous to show it to others in case they don’t like it?” Emily nods. “Well, that doesn’t really happen to me.”

“Oh. Not even a little?”

Beca shrugs. “I mean, maybe some distant part of me wants them to like it. Of course I do. But I’m not nervous about them liking it. It’s like, after it’s done, it just becomes something I did. I know it’s right. I don’t want to change it. I meant what I made. If they don’t like it, that has nothing to do with me, you know? People liking or not liking it isn’t gonna change whether or not I keep making music. Their approval is just… like you said. It’s just a consequence of what I do, not the reason.”

Emily thinks about that, fingers fiddling with the grass under her. Finally she nods. “So maybe it’s not so complicated, I guess.”

“Honestly, dude?” Beca grins, nudging Emily’s thigh with her foot. “It sounds complicated as hell. A calendar that tells you when to eat? What happened to being spontaneous?”

Emily raises her eyebrows. “The calendar tells me when to do that, too. It’s called planned spontaneity, Beca. Obviously.”

“Shut up.”

Emily’s stomach shakes with a laugh. “It’s not that bad. It sounds insane, but it’s mostly just a way to structure what I already was doing anyway.”

“So what if you don’t feel like doing something on it?”

Emily shrugs. “I guess I just wouldn’t do it, then. But that’s never really happened.”

Beca scoffs. “So you’re telling me you always feel like doing your crazy workouts and diets and shit?”

“I can guarantee that after tonight, tomorrow’s definitely going to test it.”

They share a laugh, and an easy kind of peace settles over Emily. She breathes in the night air, admiring the way the breeze flutters the ends of Beca’s hair. Exhaustion from the long day and too much drinking suddenly creeps up on her, making her eyes feel heavy.

“Well,” she sighs. “I do have an essay tomorrow and it’s been a long day. And I don’t really think we’re gonna see those other two again anytime soon.”

Beca snorts. “That’s probably for the best.”

Emily grins, nodding. She pushes herself up off the grass. “Thanks for talking with me. I had a good time tonight.”

“Me, too.” Beca offers a small smile. “See you around?”

“Definitely. Goodnight.”

“‘Night.”

She walks home after that, reflecting on the night in a happy kind of daze. She passes out the second her head touches her pillow.

It’s not until two days later, Monday morning, when she’s leaving for the pool at 5AM, that she realizes she never got her windbreaker back.

The thought makes her giddy for reasons she can't explain.

She’s longboarding her way home a few days later, lost in thought and her headphones blasting one of BPM’s first EPs, when she sees it again. Ahead of her and walking in the same direction she’s going, ‘JUNK’ printed in large white letters on the back.

“Hey!” She says out loud, but mostly to herself. “That’s mine.”

She pumps her leg, pushing her board faster.

“Hey! Beca!”

But Beca doesn’t hear her. As Emily gets closer, she sees Beca has sound-canceling headphones on.

Emily boards past her, then puts her foot down, swinging around to a stop in front of Beca.

“Yo, dude! Watch i-- Emily?” Beca pulls her headphones around her neck.

“Hey,” Emily laughs. “I tried to get your attention, but you couldn’t hear me.”

Beca looks her up and down. “You skateboard?”

“Longboard.”

“Right.”

Emily grins and reaches out to tug on the sleeve of the windbreaker. “You’re wearing my jacket.”

Beca’s eyes widen and she looks down. “Oh. Yeah, I… I was going to return it to you so I’ve been carrying it around, but I was in class and I got cold, so…” She flushes. “Ah. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Emily softens. “It’s cool.”

“Here, you can have it back.”

“No!” Emily cringes at herself and backtracks. “I mean. No, if you’re cold, it’s fine. I don’t need it right now.” She points to her sleeveless shirt. “I’m good.”

Beca hesitates. “You sure?”

“Yeah. You can give it back later.” Emily rolls her board back and forth on the sidewalk before flipping it up in her hand. “Where you off to? Can I walk with you?”

“Sure.” Beca gestures in front of her and they start walking again. “I actually was trying to figure out a good place to go. Chloe and Stacie are at my place and I have a paper to write and well…” She grimaces. “It’s not a great work environment at the moment.”

Emily snorts. “Oh. I see.”

Beca looks at her. “They’re boning.”

“Yes, I got that.”

“I’m scarred.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

Beca rolls her eyes. “Anyway. I think there’s a coffee shop a few blocks off-campus this way, so I was thinking of going there.”

Emily nods. “Yeah I know it. We live one block over.”

“Oh cool.”

“You can come write your paper at my place if you want,” Emily offers. “I have to do some reading for class, so. No distractions from me.”

Beca raises her eyebrows. “Oh, no crazy workout on the calendar?”

Emily rolls her eyes. “I go to the gym in the evenings on Wednesday. It’s arm day.” She flexes and Beca snorts.

“Okay, Gun Show. Chill.” But she lets out a laugh. “Um, okay, well yeah, I’d love to come over. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“So,” Beca says, after they’ve been walking for a few seconds. “Does the flexing thing work?”

Emily looks over at her. “Work how? What do you mean?”

“You know,” Beca gestures at her arms. “Does it… work?”

“I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Like… for picking up… people.”

Emily blinks when it sinks in. Then she’s laughing so hard her stomach shakes. “Why, do you think it should work?”

Beca makes a noncommittal sound. “I mean. They’re nice to look at. If you’re like. Into that.”

Emily smirks and holds her arm out toward Beca. “You can touch, too.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Well,” Emily says when her laughter subsides. “I’m single, so. Guess not.”

“Oh.”

“I think girls like it more than guys, to be honest,” Emily continues. “I feel like guys are annoyed when I bench press more than them. But my ex-girlfriend did always like when I opened jars and stuff for her, so.” Emily shrugs. “I don’t know!”

Beca grunts. “Huh. Well guys are dumb anyway. If I was a dude and my girlfriend had biceps like yours, I would simply make her flex for me 24/7. RIP boys, but I’m different.”

Emily grins. “Are you sure you don’t wanna touch? They’re pretty awesome.”

“You’re such a fucking jock.”

“That wasn’t a no.”

“Bite me, dude. Fine, I’ll flatter your fragile jock ego.” But when Beca reaches out to poke her in the arm, Emily swears on her favorite now-stolen windbreaker that Beca’s blushing.

“Can I ask you a question?” Beca asks later when they’re studying. Emily on the couch, Beca at the kitchen table.

Emily’s lips twitch, but she doesn’t look up from her book. “Should I be nervous?”

“Probably.”

“Okay.”

“What the fuck…” Beca inhales deeply. “Is arugula?”

Emily finally looks up to see Beca staring at the paper pinned to the fridge with a cat magnet. Her nutrition guidelines. “I thought you were writing a paper.”

“I’m taking a break.”

Emily hums. “Arugula is a vegetable. It’s like… a type of lettuce.”

Beca frowns. “A lettuce? There are types of lettuce? I thought lettuce was just its own thing.”

Emily presses her thumb in her book to hold her place. “I’m pretty sure there are multiple lettuces. Like. Iceberg lettuce, Romaine lettuce… um, and arugula? It looks like a lettuce. I’m pretty sure it’s a lettuce. It goes in salad.”

“And are you allowed to eat all these lettuces or just arugula?” Beca teases.

“Pretty sure all vegetables in general are acceptable.”

“Egh.”

Emily smiles. “What, you don’t like vegetables?”

“No they’re gross.”

“So what do you eat?”

Beca shrugs. “I pretty much eat like, pizza, exclusively. Sometimes I switch it up and get Chinese. And if I’m feeling really crazy? Ramen.”

“Oh my God.”

“It is what it is.”

Emily shakes her head. “Well, if I cooked for you, I bet you’d like vegetables.”

“Eh,” Beca gives her a skeptical look. “Doubtful.”

“I’m a good cook.”

“Nobody is that good.”

Emily snorts. “I bet I could get you to like even arugula.”

“You’re betting a loser’s bet, Em. Give it up.”

“Then you have nothing to lose, do you?”

“No, you’re the one who has to cook and deal with my ass again so. You’re definitely getting the short end of the stick here.”

Emily laughs. “Fine.”

“Fine,” Beca grins. “Pencil me in, then.”

“Fine. I will.”

“Good.”

Emily hesitates, thinking. “Speaking of, like, penciling you in. You know how Stacie and Chloe are like…”

Beca raises an eyebrow. “Boning.”

“Seeing each other.”

“Right.”

Emily bites back a smile. “If they um, stop doing that, or like…”

“Start ghosting each other?”

“Break up,” Emily laughs. “But yeah. If they ghost each other… I was hoping we could still, you know…”

Beca grins. “Hang out?”

“Hang out. Um. Yeah. You got it.” Emily can feel herself turning red. “I just have enjoyed hanging out with someone not from swimming, you know? It’s a nice change.”

“I see,” Beca says. “I’m just your distraction.”

“What?” Emily squeaks. “No. That’s not… that’s not what I meant.”

Beca chuckles. “Kidding, dude.”

Emily scowls. “That was rude. You’re rude.”

“I thought I was a nice change.”

“Maybe you’re both.”

Beca smiles. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Guess we’re friends then.”

“I guess so!”

“And for your information,” Beca waves her phone in the air, “Google says arugula is not a lettuce but a salad green . So next time you try to speak about nasty vegetables, get your facts straight.”

Emily slumps back on the couch, laying her book over her face to hide her smile. “Oh my God. I’m going back to my reading now.”

“Fine.”

Beca: Yikes dude forgot to give your jacket back again. Sorry……………

Emily: No worries (Smiling Face With Smiling Eyes ) Get it from you next time

Beca: K. Have fun with your arugula

Emily: Lettuce not talk about arugula anymore

Beca: :/ Omfg. Bye

Emily has never really considered frozen yogurt to be a super sexy food before, but she’s starting to reconsider after watching Stacie feed Chloe several spoonfuls of it.

Which is what’s currently happening. Emily stares as a chocolate-and-gummy-bear-covered bite disappears into Chloe’s mouth. Chloe's tongue swipes over her lips and she lets out a hum of pleasure so loud Emily blushes.

This has been going on for about ten minutes now, and she’s starting to feel a bit voyeuristic, if she’s being honest.

Next to her, Beca scowls and pushes her own yogurt cup away in disgust. “I can’t take this anymore,” she murmurs to Emily. “This is a public place. There are children right there!”

It was supposed to be an outing among friends to get froyo. That’s what she told herself anyway, that she’s treating herself after a long week of classes.

Now she’s being treated to dessert and a show as Stacie leans over to kiss chocolate off of Chloe’s lips. Emily gets an eyeful of tongue.

Her face feels hot enough to melt the last bit of yogurt in her cup.

“You should come over,” Stacie says, tone heavy with suggestion and completely disregarding that there are other people at this table. “I still have to show you that… thing … in my room.”

Emily does not want to know what the thing is.

“Oooh,” Chloe gushes. She lowers her voice with a smirk. “But only if I get to test it first.”

Emily and Beca exchange an uncomfortable glance.

“So,” Beca says as Chloe and Stacie immediately push up from the table, forgetting (or maybe not caring) that Emily and Beca are still there. “My place?”

Emily breathes a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God.”

Beca just laughs.

It’s sort of their thing, now that their roommates are attached at the hip.

Wherever Chloe and Stacie aren’t, Beca and Emily are. Emily’s grateful for this new arrangement. Partially because Chloe and Stacie are, well, loud , and Emily can’t do her readings while listening to music, which is unfortunately the only way to drown out whatever happens behind Stacie’s locked door.

Homework reasons aside, Emily actually likes hanging out with Beca. Maybe a little too much, if she really were to admit to herself.

Beca is cool and has a dry sense of humor that makes Emily belly-laugh. And she’s gorgeous, all dark eyeliner and plaid shirts and half-hidden tattoos.

Hanging out with her is easy and comfortable and the best part of Emily’s day. Even more than swimming sometimes. Like in an addictive kind of way, where they’re always texting when they’re not together and Beca still has her windbreaker and Emily’s entire body flushes when she sees Beca wearing it. Out of pleasure and attraction and bone-deep happiness.

And Emily knows she’s pretty gay and a bit naive and probably too hopeful for her own good, but sometimes it feels like their relationship teeters on the edge of friendship and something more.

Like when Beca teases her with that crooked smile or when Emily cooks her dinner so she actually eats a vegetable or when she texts Emily things like “good luck on your exam nerd” and “happy leg day” because she knows Emily’s intricate schedule.

Emily knows it’s a distraction and a complication and probably the way she gets her heart smashed into a million billion zillion pieces, but she doesn’t really care.

She likes Beca and she can’t stop. She doesn’t even want to anyway.

October arrives to see Emily undefeated and on a fourteen-heat-long winning streak. She wants to be happy and satisfied, but she’s frustrated. For all her wins, she hasn’t set a new personal best in any of her events in 27 days.

She feels like she’s stagnating, plateauing, completely and utterly flatlining.

She’s exhausted and annoyed at herself, biting her tongue constantly when teammates and coaches and spectators tell her how great she is, how talented, how excited they are to see her in the Olympic trials.

Emily smiles and smiles and smiles and tries not to snap.

Stacie: Please come to the party! Everyone wants to know where you are

Stacie: it’s still going for at least a few more hours!

Stacie: Beca has been asking about you

Stacie: is there something you need to tell me…………..

Stacie: emmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmilyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

Stacie: do not leave me on read Emily Junk!

Stacie: ugh fine

The pool closes at 10, so when Emily slides the key in the lock and slips in by 11, it’s empty.

Only the emergency light by the door and the pool lights shining a pale blue through the water break up the darkness of the room. It’s still and quiet and perfect.

She could get in trouble for this one of these times, she knows, but it’s not exactly a deterrent. Not when she can’t get out of her own head enough to care.

She carefully makes her way over to the hot tub, offset from the pool in the corner of the room, and hits the button on the wall to turn on the bubbles. Then she pulls off her sweats and hoodie so she’s just in her swimsuit -- not her racing one but her simple black bikini -- and finally eases into the water.

Like always, the temperature stings the smallest amount. She inhales deeply and sticks her head under, submerging her whole body for one, two, three, four, five seconds. When she surfaces, it’s the perfect temperature.

She leans back against the wall, sitting on the step, water up to her chin.

She loves it here, after hours when it’s just the dark and the quiet and her, just her, alone with her thoughts. When she’s had a bad day, there’s always this. The shimmering of pale blue light, the soft gurgle of the bubbles, her head dizzy from the hot water.

She lets it all wash over her for some time. She thinks and thinks and thinks, and she doesn’t leave until she starts to feel the heat seep into her chest and her fingers prune so much they look like raisins.

Beca’s room is small.

There’s barely room to move between her bed, her desk, and the dresser, but for some reason, that’s where they spend their time.

Beca sits at her desk, typing away at her laptop. Emily, unsure how this arrangement came to be but loving it anyway, gets the bed.

Beca’s bed is so comfy. The pillows are soft and the comforter is fluffy and it’s wide enough for Emily to starfish without any of her limbs spilling over the sides. It’s kind of like sitting on a cloud, which is Emily’s optimal environment to do her reading.

Today, though, she’s just laying here. Her book is open beside her but mostly she’s laying back on Beca’s pillow and listening to Beca type. She feels lethargic and melancholy and Beca’s bed of clouds isn’t making getting her work done any easier.

She’s been laying like that, half-dozing half-thinking, for about an hour when Beca speaks.

“Hey. So. The other night.”

Emily stirs, turning her head to look over at the desk. Beca’s swiveled in her desk chair, one knee pulled onto it and up to her chest, chin resting on top.

Emily clears her throat. “What about it?”

“Well,” Beca hedges, “you didn’t come to that party.”

“Mmm.” Emily shrugs, yawning. “Yeah. I wasn’t really in a partying mood.”

Beca stares at her for a long moment. Emily doesn’t really have the energy to look away. Finally, Beca frowns. “Are you, like... okay? You seem down.”

Emily means to say she’s fine, that she’s just tired and probably overworked and midterms are kicking her butt. Instead she says, “I’m in a slump.”

Beca blinks. “A slump?”

“Yeah.”

“What kind of slump?”

“A swimming slump.”

Beca furrows her eyebrows. “I don’t… know what that means.”

Emily’s lips twitch in a smile. “I’m just not performing very well.”

“I thought you were undefeated?”

“I am, but.” Emily sighs. “I’m just not, like, doing any better. I’m not improving. I’m just doing as well as I always have.”

“Oh,” Beca nods. “Like your PR thing?”

Emily nods. “Yeah. I haven’t had a new personal record in almost a month. Like, not even by one millisecond.”

“Oh.” There’s a long pause. “Can I show you something?”

“Okay.”

Emily sits up when Beca unplugs her laptop from the charger and climbs on the bed. She settles next to Emily, turning the screen so Emily can see. They’re so close she can smell Beca’s soap and see the small freckles on her nose. She forces herself to look back at the screen, and watches as Beca clicks out of a few pages and pulls up a music program. She’s seen Beca working on the program before, headphones over her ears so as not to disturb Emily’s reading.

Curiosity blooms, pushing away her earlier lethargy. “What’s this?”

“So. When I’m having a block or like, I’m in a slump ,” Beca shoots her a tiny smile, “I go back to making the type of stuff that got me into wanting to produce music in the first place.”

She clicks through the program a few times to open a file, then clicks play. Music tinnies from the laptop speakers, and after a second, Emily recognizes the song. After a few more, she realizes it’s not just one song, it’s multiple songs, layered together.

“Is that… is that you singing?” When Beca nods, Emily can’t help the smile that breaks over her face. “Wow. Holy crap. You’re really good .”

Beca laughs. “Are you surprised?”

“No, I guess not. I just… haven’t heard you sing like this. And this isn’t really what I was expecting.”

“Well, it’s not what I usually do,” Beca explains. “I mean, at least anymore. This is the kind of stuff I used to do before I started making my own shit.” She shrugs. “But I don’t know, sometimes when I’m in my own kind of slump, I go back to making these kinds of mashups. At least just to jog some kind of inspiration or memory or, I dunno. Something.”

“Wow. It’s awesome.”

Beca nudges her with her shoulder. “Thanks. But what I mean is, even though I don’t really make these kinds of mashups anymore, they’re kind of what got me into making the music I make now in the first place, you know? I think it’s helpful to like, go back to your roots.”

Emily hums. “So you think I should try doing something to remind myself of why I love swimming?”

“Yeah. I mean, no. I mean… I dunno, dude. I’m not a swimming expert!” Beca rolls her eyes and Emily laughs. “I just mean like, sometimes you gotta do something different as like, a reset or something.”

“Yeah… I guess that makes sense.” After a moment, her voice softer than she means, she says, “Thanks for showing me this.”

Beca’s lips quirk up in that crooked smile. “Anytime.”

Emily doesn’t know why her face feels hot. Beca’s just looking at her, their knees brushing, close enough that Emily could count her eyelashes if she wasn’t so distracted by the sudden pink in Beca’s cheeks.

“I mean,” Beca continues, turning away suddenly. “It’s weird to see you in such a bummer of a mood, dude. It’s freaking me out.” Emily laughs and Beca points at her. “There! That’s more like it. Now if you’ll excuse me, this assignment isn’t going to finish itself.”

She grins and scoots away, leaving Emily alone on the bed.

A few minutes later, they’re back how they were before, Beca typing at the desk, Emily slumped back against Beca’s pillow.

Emily still doesn’t finish her reading, she still can’t concentrate, but now she thinks, trying not to stare at Beca out of the corner of her eye, now it’s for an entirely different reason.

“Any day now, sunshine.”

Emily glares down toward the pool. “What’s that you always say? I’m building anticipation.”

“Mhmm. Right.” Stacie’s sitting on the edge of the pool, legs in the water, just off to the side of the high-dive. Which is where Emily currently is, her toes curled over the edge of the board. She’s not scared , exactly. She knows she’s gonna be fine. She’s done this a million times and obviously she’s a fantastic swimmer.

There’s just something about purposely diving head first into the water from this height that really makes her heart pound just a little too quickly.

“I still don’t get why you’re doing this,” Stacie calls. She’s pulled a nail file out of her swim bag and is examining her nails on the side of the pool. It’s weird. Emily thinks that’s a weird thing to do.

“I said you didn’t have to wait for me!”

Stacie scoffs. “As if.”

And it’s not like Emily’s alone and needs a chaperone. A few of her teammates are still swimming up and down their lanes, mingling by their bags, just generally loitering as they tend to do after practice has officially finished.

Emily hadn’t planned on doing this, but Beca’s words have been ringing in her brain for several days now and she can’t seem to shake them. So here she is, up on the high-dive, remembering when she was six years old at her local pool and climbing up the ladder for the first time on shaky legs, peering over the edge.

That was before she’d discovered racing, when the pool was just a fun summer activity, and all her time in the water wasn’t spent perfecting strokes and breathing.

“Let’s make a deal,” Stacie says.

Emily rolls her eyes, but Stacie can’t see her way up here. “No.”

“If you manage to dive so well I don’t get splashed, I’ll buy you dinner.”

“And if you’re splashed?”

“You buy me dinner? Obvi.”

Emily snorts. “This doesn’t exactly seem fair, considering you’re sitting literally right there.”

“Why? Don’t think you can do it?” She can’t see it, but she can practically feel Stacie’s infuriating smirk. “Finally found something you’re not number one at, I guess.”

Emily scowls. “I haven’t done this in years! It’s reasonable to say I wouldn’t be that good at it!”

“Just jump already!”

“Fine! And you’ll be buying me dinner.”

She peers over the edge one last time. God it’s high. Then, with a beat of respect for the high-divers, she holds her breath, and jumps.

Her body twists in a somersault, just one, heart pounding and pounding and pounding. She straightens out as much as she can and slices through the water with a splash. She exhales in a rush, breaking for the surface. When she pops up, chest heaving with a thrilling exhilaration and wiping the water from her eyes, Stacie’s laughing her ass off.

Emily’s both annoyed and immensely pleased to see she’s been very much splashed.

She hasn’t felt this fluid in weeks. She almost smiles as she pushes out of her turn, but she’s too focused.

She doesn’t know if it was the high-dive that did the trick, or maybe she just needed to take a breath and get out of her own head.

Either way, she feels better, faster, more graceful. She has a good feeling about this race.

With the end in sight, she pushes herself just a little harder, arms and legs burning as she strokes through the water, and --

Time.

She finally stops, hand resting on the edge of the pool. Her chest heaves and her breath comes out quick and loud. She can hear the crowd cheering, but her goggles have fogged up and she can’t see anything. She whips them off and glances up at her time.

Oh. Shit.

A laugh bubbles out of her throat.

She just set a new PR, an entire second faster than her last time.

A triumphant happiness overtakes her as she pushes out of the pool. Stacie immediately engulfs her in a hug. “Oh my God, Em. That was insane .”

Emily squeezes her and pulls back. “I know. I felt so good in there. I can’t even describe it.”

Stacie grabs her shoulders and shakes her excitedly. “And you did it for a special audience.”

“Special audience?”

Stacie jerks her head and Emily peers around her shoulder. Standing off to the side are Beca and Chloe. They’re both cheering and when Beca sees her looking, she grins and spins around, pointing to her back.

That’s when Emily realizes she’s wearing her windbreaker, and there in the big white lettering, JUNK across the shoulders.

An overwhelming kind of giddiness crashes over her in waves. She laughs and walks over.

“Congratulations!” Chloe squeals. “That was amazing, Emily!”

“Thanks,” Emily grins, her eyes still on Beca.

Beca offers her a knowing smile. She holds her fist out and Emily bumps hers to it with a laugh. “Nice job, nerd. So… I take it you did it?”

Emily nods, her whole body vibrating. “New personal best.”

“I’m glad we got to see it,” Beca says.

Emily hums happily. “Me too, jacket thief.”

Beca smirks. “Well, I need it. How else will they know who I’m cheering for?”

“Ah, well. You have to pay the price to wear it, though.”

Beca raises her eyebrows. “What price?”

“A hug, duh.”

And before Beca can stop her, she crushes Beca to her in a hug, effectively getting her, as Beca will say later, “really fucking soaked.”

She’s just put her earbuds in, clicked play on one of BPM’s tracks, and is heading to the gym when the text comes through.

Beca: not to be desperate on main but please save me they are here and i accidentally saw chloe’s NAKED BUTT with my EYES and im SCARRED

Emily grimaces. She hesitates, deliberating for a second.

Then she types back quickly.

Emily: (Grimacing Face ) come over ASAP i have bleach for your eyes

She takes her earbuds off and heads back inside the house. Today is her core day. It’s not like she can’t do those workouts at home.

Beca: oh thank god

Emily: i have to do my core workouts though so i can’t be blamed if you get distracted because you’re staring at my muscles just fyi

She watches as Beca’s little typing dots pop up. Then disappear. Then pop up. Then disappear. Then pop up again, then --

Beca: i think you overestimate the power of your muscles

Emily: do i though

Beca: i’m on my way and yes, in case you’re wondering, i have brought a few jars i need opening in case you need to feel useful

Emily: haha you’re hilarious

Emily: but yes im happy to open your jars and reach high shelves for you

Beca: youre rude

Emily: you started it

She’d been kidding in their texts, but she’s just finished her final set of planks when, out of the corner of her eye, she notices Beca is looking at her.

She takes out her left ear bud. “What?”

Beca blinks, cheeks pinking. “Nothing.”

“I knew you were going to be distracted by my muscles!”

Beca rolls her eyes. “I’m not! This is just boring and I was thinking.”

“Thinking.”

“Yeah. Thinking.”

Emily hums skeptically and moves over to the wall to do her last set of wall sits. “Sure.”

“I was. I just…” Beca glances away before looking back. “I was just going to say thanks for letting me come over. You obviously were gonna go to the gym and I probably guilted you into staying. So. I dunno. Just thanks. And sorry.”

Emily’s lips tick up in a fond smile. “No sorry necessary. If I didn’t want to see you, I wouldn’t have asked you to come over.”

“I’m sure it’s just not as fun to do this here as it is at the rec center.”

“Eh.” Emily shrugs, settling into her wall sit. “It’s easier having you here. I usually work out alone and maybe it’s nice to have company sometimes.”

“You don’t mind?”

Emily shakes her head. “Nuh uh.” They settle into a silence for a moment that has Emily thinking. She hums. “Did you see the relay when you came to the meet?”

“The relay?” Beca nods. “Yeah that’s the one where all four of you swim in the same race right?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, you beat the other teams by a mile.”

Emily smiles. “Hanging out with you is kind of like the relay.”

“How so?”

“Like…” Emily shrugs, but the movement makes her core burn. She adjusts her position, looking at her timer. Another minute. “Swimming is kind of an individual sport, you know? Even when you have a team. The relay is nice because for your part of the race, it’s just you going as hard as you can. But then you get to the end and look up, and there’s someone else on the wall, ready to do their share of the work. Hanging out with you is kind of like that. We can sit and do our own thing, but then I look up and there you are. It’s really nice.”

Beca stares at her for a second. Then she looks away, scratching at her nose. “Yeah,” she says eventually. “I mean. Same.”

Beca’s so endearing and cute that Emily has to laugh, but it hurts and she falls out of her wall sit with 15 seconds left. She slides down to the floor, her legs shaky and abs on fire. She flops on her back for a quick breather.

“I remember doing those wall things in high school gym and they were awful,” Beca says, an amused expression on her face. “I don’t know how you can stand to do them willingly.”

“Eh,” Emily grunts from her spot on the floor. She lifts her shirt and points at her abs. “That’s how.”

She feels a fantastic stab of satisfaction when Beca’s eyes widen and she groans, hiding her pink face behind her hands.

Even outside of getting stronger for swimming, causing cute girls to blush kind of makes the whole ab pain worth it.

There are eyeballs in the Jello shots. Emily thinks they’re fake. Obviously they're fake. They gotta be fake.

“There are eyeballs in the Jello shots.”

Stacie hums in acknowledgement. “They’re fake.”

“What do you think they are?”

“Not sure. Why don’t we find out?” Stacie grabs one of the shot cups and jiggles the Jello out of it and into her mouth. Emily makes a face in disgust.

Stacie cringes, swallows, then… chews? Ew.

“Gummy eyeballs,” she explains after she’s done. “But shit those things taste like straight vodka.”

The boys from the team have gone all out for Halloween this year. Their giant place is decked out in spiderwebs, skeletons, and other creepy decorations. Even the drinks have a Halloween theme, apparently.

After watching Stacie do the eyeball Jello shot, though, Emily isn’t too keen to try the punch that’s smoking (how??), even if it does glow in the dark.

She’s been staring at the bowl and trying to figure out how it’s doing that (is it dry ice?) for a minute when Stacie suddenly grabs her hand and turns her so they’re facing each other.

“Okay, how do I look?”

“You know I think you’re gorgeous.”

“Em,” Stacie sniffs. “Why do you always say that when you know what I mean.”

Emily laughs. “Because it’s true?”

“Just tell me how I look.”

Stacie’s dressed as a “mad-sexy scientist” (her words). “You look like a mad-sexy scientist. I… I don’t know. What am I looking for?”

“Does it make you wanna take me into one of those gross boy’s rooms and see my mad-sexy lingerie underneath?”

“If you weren’t you and I wasn’t me, yes. But under the current circumstances of our friendship. No.”

“But like, in an alternate universe where we’re super attracted to each other and you haven’t seen me throwing up at 3AM multiple times?”

Emily laughs. “Yes. Maybe in that universe.”

“That’s all I need to hear.”

“I don’t know why you need to ask,” Emily says. “I’m pretty sure Chloe’s into you at this point no matter what. I don’t think you need to impress her anymore.”

Stacie frowns. “I know, but it’s fun. Now let me see you.” She licks her thumb and smudges under Emily’s eyelid.

“Egh. Why this?”

“Because it looks hotter like this,” Stacie says in a tone that suggests she's explaining something for the hundredth time. She gives her a knowing look. “Isn’t there someone you want to look hotter for?”

Emily shifts her weight, blushing. “No. Maybe. I dunno.” She inhales a shuddery breath. “Yeah. Yes.”

“Mmm.” Stacie runs her fingers through Emily’s bangs, giving them volume. Then she levels Emily with a soft gaze. “Well,” she says, uncharacteristically serious. “I think you’re gonna be fine.”

“Oh. Do you know something I don’t know?”

“Oh, many things,” Stacie laughs. “But, yes actually, I helped Beca with her costume, so there may be something specific I know that you don’t.” Then she glances over Emily’s shoulder with a grin. “And now you can see for yourself.”

Emily whips around, coming face to face with Beca. Her jaw drops.

“Oh my God. You’re… you’re…”

“I’m you,” Beca laughs.

And she really kind of is. She’s wearing Emily’s windbreaker and her literal favorite snapback (so that’s where her hat went!), black track pants on her legs. Under the open windbreaker, Emily can see a black one-piece swimsuit. Headphones loop around Beca’s neck, the earbuds hanging down her chest.

She looks good. Really good. She looks, there’s no other word for it, hot . Is Emily allowed to be attracted to someone dressed up as her ? Is that weird? Is it narcissistic? But dang, Beca can wear a snapback. Beca should wear Emily’s snapbacks more often. And just… Holy cow. Beca looks hot.

“You… wow. I mean. You’re me. Wow.”

Beca laughs, her cheeks slightly flushed. “Yeah, and you…” She frowns. “Are... something.”

Emily pouts. “I’m a pregnant pause!”

Stacie snorts. “I told you nobody was gonna get it!”

“What the fuck is a pregnant pause?”

“It’s like when a silence between people is heavy and meaningful! It’s called a pregnant pause. So, see!” She gestures to her fake pregnant belly with the PAUSE symbol on it. “Pregnant. Pause.”

“Oh I see.”

Emily groans. “Ugh. It’s a really common phrase in literature, okay!”

Beca’s lips twitch. “Nerd.”

“At least I thought of something clever. You just stole all my clothes and called it a costume.”

Beca grins. “You do think my costume is clever, though.”

“No.” Emily crosses her arms, resting them on her fake belly. “Fine. Maybe. It looks good. You look good. I mean. I’m hot, so. Obviously you look good. Anyway!” She says when Beca’s smile gets a little too smug. “Where’s Chloe?”

Beca rolls her eyes. “She got distracted on the way in because she accidentally found her costume’s like, partner, or whatever. She’s dressed as Poison Ivy and there’s a Harley Quinn or something? I don’t know, I’m not a nerd.” She grins and flexes. “I’m a jock tonight! And it’s arm day, baby!”

“I do not sound like that!” But both Beca and Stacie are doubled over in laughter.

Emily grumbles, but Stacie grabs her hand. “Come on, Mama. Let’s go find Poison Ivy. Then we need a beer pong rematch.”

She lets Stacie start to drag her away and she holds her hand out behind her as they merge into the crowd of partiers. She feels Beca’s fingers slide between her own and warmth seeps all the way down to her toes.

They once again lose spectacularly at beer pong. Beca spends the whole game yelling things like “hoops!” and “three-pointer!” when she shoots.

“Just jock things,” she says seriously to Emily after she misses three in a row.

It’s totally rude and Emily has never said such things in her life , but Beca looks so good in her snapback that Emily can’t stop laughing the entire time.

Beca’s in her bed.

She’s trying not to freak out because these are totally innocent circumstances here, but holy crap, Beca’s in her bed.

Emily’s got butterflies in her stomach. She’s nervous. Mostly because her bed is not as comfortable as Beca’s bed. Not that Emily has ever slept in Beca’s bed, but she’s studied in Beca’s bed a lot, and she can say with one hundred percent certainty that her bed is not as comfy as Beca’s bed.

And maybe she’s a little nervous for other reasons. Like the fact that they’re holding hands and Emily’s a smidgen tipsy still and did she mention they’re holding hands ????

She’s trying to think how they got to this point, and linearly she can map it out (Stacie and Chloe said they were going back to Beca and Chloe’s place, Beca and Emily decided to come to her place, Emily offered her bed to share and gave Beca one of her tank tops and a pair of shorts, and now they’re here ), but like… the holding hands part?

It had been instinct, Emily thinks, to reach across the small space between them and fold Beca’s hand between her own. And Beca hadn’t let go. Had just rolled over on her pillow so they were facing each other, nose to nose and knee to knee.

“Sorry I stole your clothes for my costume,” Beca says, voice soft in the darkness.

Emily chuckles. “It’s okay. I mean, they look really good on you, so. If you want to wear them more, I guess that would be fine.”

A small laugh puffs out of Beca’s nose. “You flirting with me, Junk?”

Emily’s whole body feels warm. “Maybe a little. If it’s okay.”

“Yeah,” Beca grins. “It’s okay.”

“Okay.”

“Cool.”

“Fine.”

Emily laughs and squeezes Beca’s hand. It’s suddenly occurring to her just how much she likes Beca. Beca makes her heart pound like she’s on the high-dive. “I’m glad I met you,” she says. “I think my life is better with you in it.”

There’s a long pause, one Emily would definitely classify as pregnant. “Yeah,” Beca murmurs eventually. “Mine too, dude. Like, a lot.”

Happiness flushes through her. “Really?”

“Yeah. I guess I just…” Beca hesitates, letting out a long sigh. “I’m not used to being like, close, or I dunno, open, sort of? With people. Especially girls. I mean, there’s Chloe, but with her it’s not necessarily by choice. She kinda forces me to be like that, just by being Chloe, you know? But with you… I dunno.” Emily can feel her shrug. “I like talking to you. Or even not talking. It’s just easier with you, I guess.”

“I am pretty approachable,” Emily reasons. “I think it’s my muscles.”

Beca snorts. “It’s definitely not your muscles.”

“I know you like them, admit it.”

“Fine, I like them. So what?”

Emily giggles and Beca’s smile is immediate and bright. “Okay, so what else do you like about me then, if not just my muscles?”

Beca grunts. “Oh, I have to give a list now?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, well.” Beca hums in thought and rolls over on her back. She still has Emily’s hand, and she doesn’t let go. “You’re dedicated. I admire that about you. I like that you’re serious about what you do because I am too. And, um, you’re kind, like, without trying, which I don't get. You always smell a little bit like chlorine, even when you smell like that flowery body wash you use. It’s kind of nice. It’s familiar and I like that. And obviously your muscles. We touched on that but maybe it bears repeating.”

“Wow.”

Beca glances over at her, eyes playful, even in the dark. “Satisfied?”

“Yeah.” Emily’s so happy she thinks she might combust. “Very.”

“Great.” Beca shakes her head in amusement. “So do I get a list, then?”

“Yeah, okay.” Emily thinks about it for a minute. “I like your sense of humor. You always make me laugh. You make heavy days feel lighter. I don’t know how you do it, but you always do. And, ummmmm, I like how when you’re working, you’re in your own little world. And I like your cute flannels, and your hair when it’s wavy, but I also like when it’s straight, and it looks really nice when it’s up in a bun, too. And your eyes. They’re the best blue. I think you’re beautiful and looking at you makes my chest feel all weird.”

Beca stares at her for a second. Then she exhales out a laugh. “It makes my chest feel all weird when you say stuff like that, dude.”

“I can stop if it’s too much.”

“No,” Beca says quickly. “It’s not.”

“Okay, because I’m still a little bit drunk.”

Beca grins, nudging Emily’s calf with her toes. “Honestly, same. Let’s go to sleep.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Emily agrees. “Goodnight, Beca.”

“Goodnight, Em.”

Emily doesn’t fall asleep right away, and she’s not sure if Beca does, either. But when she finally does drift off, Beca’s still holding her hand.

For once, Emily’s enjoying her run.

Well, enjoying might be a stretch, but the hitch in her side and her labored breaths are a good distraction. A distraction she desperately needs.

She’d woken up, legs tangled in the sheets and with horrible cottonmouth, and had immediately turned over to see if maybe the night before had been some kind of drunken hallucination. But no, it wasn’t, because there was Beca, fast asleep on her stomach, face smushed into the pillow.

Emily’s heart had skipped a beat. Several beats actually. She’d feared for a second there she might start hyperventilating if it continued to skip so many beats.

She’d pushed herself out of bed, limbs jittering for something to do. It was Saturday, her long run day, and for the first time in her life, she’d slipped into her running clothes, pulled on her shoes, and was on her route just fifteen minutes after waking up.

That had been an hour ago, and now she’s finally settled into a rhythm that isn’t horrible, BPM’s music a steady comfort in her ears.

Running, Emily thinks, is a good time to clear the head.

She’d texted Beca after she left that she went on her run and to help herself to coffee or breakfast or whatever. Emily would be back soon.

Emily’s not sure what’s going on with them.

They’re friends. Obviously. But are they more than friends? They haven’t kissed. But they’ve said… things. Things that are more than friendly. And maybe they’d been a little drunk, but that didn’t mean what Emily had said wasn’t true. It was true. It is true.

Her life is better because Beca’s in it. She’s less stressed, less alone. She smiles, like, way more than she did before, and doesn’t spend all her time split between just the pool and the gym.

Emily’s happy.

She wasn’t unhappy before. She knows this, in a reflective sort of way. Between swimming, and school, and her friends, Emily was content. She was satisfied. She had goals she worked toward and she did things she wanted and said no to things she didn’t.

Since meeting Beca, though, Emily’s felt… joy .

Constant joy.

She doesn’t just wake up. She looks forward to it. She doesn’t just laugh. Sometimes with Beca, she shakes so hard with giggles she can’t breathe. Seeing Beca smile makes it feel like little bubbles are popping in her chest, all light and bright.

And last night… Beca had looked so… just wow. And Emily wants… she wants…

She wants to wake up to Beca’s face smushed into her pillow all the time. She wants to hold hands at parties and call Beca babe and she wants it to mean something, like really mean something, when Beca wears her windbreaker and her clothes and cheers for her at her events.

And she wants to kiss her. She wants to kiss Beca so freaking bad.

Emily stops running, finally back at the end of the street. She puts her hands on top of her head, breathing hard.

What’s she going to do when she gets back and Beca’s there? Should she say something? Should she just do something?

Ugh.

She pulls her phone out of her waistband and checks it. There’s three new texts from Beca.

Beca: Hi. I stole one of your muffins because I thought it was chocolate chip but it was raisins and im sorry but WHO EATS RAISIN MUFFINS EMILY WTF

Beca: Also I’m really sorry Em I had to go, some stuff came up with my dad. Talk soon? Promise

Beca: (Heavy Black Heart ≊ Red Heart)

Emily exhales out a laugh, both relieved and disappointed.

Well, she thinks, staring at the text with a mixture of amazement and incredulity that Beca used an emoji, she guesses they’ll talk soon.

It’s 9PM and Emily’s taking a water break. Leg day is killing her today. She has absolutely no motivation to continue.

She gulps down some water, queues up another few good songs, and checks her texts to put off getting back to it just a little longer. She’s surprised to see one from Beca from twenty minutes ago.

Beca: godddd please say you’re at home. I’m having a shit day and they just got here and i can hear them through my headphones and im about 3 seconds away from tit punching chloe

Emily pouts.

Emily: (Confused Face ) im sorry babe im at the gym rn but come to rec center around 1045, circle left side around back, you’ll see a door next to a big tree. Wear a swimsuit.

Beca responds immediately.

Beca: this is either some weird workout shit or youre gonna murder me and im not really into either of those things. did i mention im having a shit day

Emily: see you at 1045 :)

She goes back to her workout, feeling a little more motivated than before.

Beca shows at 10:45 on the dot.

Emily hasn’t seen her since the morning after Halloween, and when Beca appears out of the darkness, a whole spectrum of feelings flutters in Emily’s chest. Nerves, excitement, happiness.

“Hey,” she smiles. “You came.”

Beca’s wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt, the hood pulled up over her head. She shrugs. “Well, I figured you’re probably too nice to actually murder me, so.”

Emily rolls her eyes. “Did you wear your swimsuit?”

“Yeah. Are we going swimming?”

“Sort of.”

Beca raises a skeptical eyebrow. “I think the pool’s closed.”

Emily pulls the keys out of her pocket with a grin. “That’s the best part.” She unlocks the door and holds it open for Beca, following her inside.

It’s dark, as usual, and they’re alone. The pale blue pool lights shimmer, the water still.

“Are we allowed to be here?” Beca whispers.

“Definitely not.” Emily turns her phone flashlight on, mostly for Beca’s sake, and walks toward the corner where the hot tub is. Beca follows close behind.

She hits the button on the wall to start the bubbles and drops her bag on the floor a few feet from the hot tub. Then she strips down to her swimsuit and, before she can think about it too much, slides into the hot tub. She submerges her head, riding out the sudden temperature change.

When she pops back up, Beca’s still standing there with her clothes on, just staring at her.

“Well, come on,” Emily says.

“I -- yeah, alright.”

Beca tugs her shoes off, throwing them haphazardly next to Emily’s. Then her sweatpants and her hoodie. Then she’s just in her bikini, shivering in the air. Emily holds back a smile when she dips a toe in, hissing at the heat, then, hesitantly, she climbs down the stairs and sinks into the water.

She settles across from Emily on the opposite side of the hot tub.

Emily sits on the step, water up to her chin, admiring the blue light on Beca’s face, the reflection of it in her eyes. The tips of Beca’s hair in the water.

She’s so pretty Emily aches.

“So…” Beca hedges. “I feel like there’s a story here.”

Emily bites her lip around a smile. “It’s not as exciting as you’re probably thinking. One day I had to come early to set up for one of our competitions and Coach gave me a spare set of keys. And I just… never gave them back.”

“And you use them to sneak in after hours to… use the hot tub.”

“Mhmm,” Emily hums. “It’s relaxing. Sitting here alone in the dark. I come when I’ve had a bad day.”

“Huh.” Beca looks impressed. “And what if you get caught? Wouldn’t that jeopardize, I dunno like, your spot on the team and your future and everything?”

Emily shrugs. “I think… it’s probably awful to say, but I think when your future is as obvious as mine and people have invested so much into it, they’re more willing to overlook the things that could jeopardize it. I think if I got caught... they’d probably just pretend nothing happened.”

“Wow.”

“I know it’s awful.”

“Eh.” Beca shoots her a playful smile. “I think there are worse things they could let slide than someone using the hot tub after hours when they’ve had a bad day.”

Emily laughs. “Yeah. Probably.”

They’re quiet for a minute, and Emily breathes into the silence. Feels the hot water on her shoulders and cool air on her face. Listens to the bubbles gurgling.

Eventually, Beca sighs. “Thanks for showing me your super secret bad day hiding spot.”

“Anytime,” Emily says, voice soft and fond. “I think you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted to show, to be honest. Everyone else would abuse it and then I don’t think I’d be able to use it anymore.”

“I’m flattered,” Beca laughs. “And actually it is kind of helping.”

Emily scrunches her nose in sympathy. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Beca purses her lips. “I don’t know. My dad’s just being annoying.”

“Mm.”

“I told you my parents are divorced, right?”

“Yeah.”

Beca sighs. “Yeah, well. He called me to, like, get my permission or blessing or something to ask his girlfriend to marry him. And it’s not that I’m so bitter or anything that I hate her and won’t give it. I kind of got over all that a few years ago. But also just like, dude, you’re a grown man and you don’t have to keep trying to like, sort it out with me because you feel guilty for leaving my mom.” Beca rolls her eyes. “Maybe I’m just being too sensitive, but it pissed me off for some reason.”

Emily shrugs. “I don’t think you getting mad at an emotional topic makes you too sensitive. Obviously it’s a long term thing that’s not gonna settle overnight.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Beca’s lips thin. “I think I’m just annoyed because I did a lot of work on myself to kind of… accept what happened and forgive him and like, repair our relationship after everything. And it’s better than it was, but… I feel like when he does certain things it’s because he feels guilty and he’s trying to shift that off of him and onto me for being mad about it. If that makes sense.”

Emily nods. “Yeah. I mean, that’s super frustrating.”

“So frustrating. And,” Beca continues, “Ugh. I saw him today -- he teaches here, I think I told you that -- and I was with this girl from one of my classes, and he told her to call him Dr. Mitchell after she said ‘Mr. Mitchell’. I hate when he does that. You’re not a doctor! You teach comparative literature. Like, fuck off, you condescending shitwad.”

Emily chuckles. “Maybe it’s lucky I’ve never had him as my prof.”

“It’s very lucky, Em. Insanely lucky.”

“All Lit profs are like that, though. You have to understand.”

“Ugh.” They both laugh and Beca shakes her head in disbelief. “And on top of that,” she says, voice a little less serious. “The whole thing with him has made it so I can’t concentrate enough to finish my latest project and I’m really so close to being done and just… it’s the cherry on top, you know?”

Emily hums, reaching out to nudge Beca’s knee with her toe. “Yeah. Maybe a step back for a few hours will be good, though. You can finish it tomorrow with a clear head.”

“Yeah,” Beca exhales, nodding. “I know. It’s just annoying.”

“Mmm. Yeah.”

They look at each other for a moment, smiling at each other. Then Beca smirks. “You know, I kind of always just picture you in that other swimsuit you wear when racing. So this look has completely shattered that image of you in my head.”

Emily snorts. “Sorry.”

“Why sorry?”

“You sounded disappointed by this,” Emily does air quotes. “‘Shattered image’.”

“Disappointed?” Beca frowns. “No way. There is literally nothing about you that’s disappointing, dude.”

Emily opens her mouth. Then closes it. Watches Beca. Beca seems to be flustered, but it’s too dark to tell if she’s blushing.

Finally, she clears her throat. “I just mean. I’m sure there are a million people in your life you’re afraid to disappoint because of everything,” she says, voice soft. “But um, you don't have to be like that with me, you know? Not if you don’t want to.”

Emily doesn’t know what to say. She skims her hands over the surface of the water. Her stomach feels like it’s tying itself in knots. She’s not crying, exactly, but her chest feels tight.

After a moment, Beca drifts closer, moving slowly through the water until she’s right in front of Emily, her hand outstretched. Emily grabs it, her heart flip-flopping like crazy.

“We never talked,” Beca murmurs after a moment. “About the other night.”

“Oh.”

Beca pauses. “We said some things. And I know we were kind of drunk --”

“I meant them,” Emily exhales in a rush.

“-- but I meant what I said.” Beca finishes and Emily blushes. “Ah, yeah. Okay. Cool.”

Emily stares, tongue tied and warm and wired. She can’t think of anything to say. She doesn’t know what to do. Her whole body feels like it’s vibrating as she looks at Beca.

Beca’s face is so serious, her eyes moving back and forth between Emily’s. Emily can’t breathe when Beca releases her hand and instead reaches out, fingers sliding over her collar bones, under her hair, on her neck.

Then she’s in Emily’s lap -- holy crap she’s in Emily’s lap -- legs curling around her waist, her other hand settling on Emily’s shoulder.

The last thing she sees before she closes her eyes is Beca’s crooked smile. Then they’re kissing and Emily’s heart’s trying to leave her body with how forcefully it’s pounding.

Wow , Emily thinks, and it’s the last thought she can make coherent sense of. Then she can only feel. Beca’s soft lips on hers, heat like fire between their bodies. The blue glow of the water envelops her, the water warm around her.

And everything Beca, overwhelming her entirely. How she smells like Emily, like chlorine. How she feels solid and soft beneath Emily’s fingers, wrapped around her waist. Her breath hot on Emily’s lips, a quiet hum of pleasure in Emily’s ear. The flush of satisfaction in Emily’s chest when Beca’s fingers wander, out from behind Emily’s neck and down her arms, circling her biceps.

Emily thinks no moment has ever been so perfect, so worth the wait, in her entire life. She doesn’t want it to end, doesn’t want to stop.

So they don’t. Not until the automatic timer on the bubbles shuts them off. Not until Emily’s fingers prune, not until the heat from the water and from kissing make her so dizzy she can’t breathe.

Emily: what are you doing?? Come overrrrrrrrrrrr

“So,” Stacie says, popping her gum. She’s sitting across from Emily at the table, laptop and her notes open in front of her. “First qualifier is in a month.”

Beca: lol. Be there around 6

“Uh huh,” Emily responds, frowning at her phone.

Emily: that’s two hours from now! If you leave now, we could be kissing in like 15 mins

“So are you nervous?”

“Nervous?”

Beca: wow it’s like you miss me or something

Emily: i just know you have withdrawal because it’s been almost 24 hours since you’ve seen my abs

Stacie says something but Emily doesn’t register it.

Beca: be there around 6 to properly fluff your fragile jock ego by worshipping the holy abs

Emily: ugh fine

She puts her phone down and finally looks up to see Stacie staring at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Sorry,” Emily says. “Did you say something?”

Stacie laughs. “So you and Beca, huh? Finally.”

Warmth seeps up Emily’s neck. “Uh.”

“It’s cute.”

“Thanks?”

“Mmm.” Stacie shrugs. “I just haven’t really seen you like this in awhile.”

Emily feels her eyebrows furrow. “Like what?”

There’s a long pause before Stacie says, “Happy.”

“Happy?” Emily frowns, even though she’s had the same thought. She just didn't think it was that obvious. “I’m happy.”

“Yeah, I know, but.” Stacie taps her pen against her notebook, expression turning thoughtful. “Since freshman year Championships when you beat that chick from Penn who was supposed to be the next Missy Franklin and they put you on this insane regimen. It’s just been different.”

Emily grunts. “Yeah, it’s pretty time-consuming, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Stacie agrees. “That’s not what I mean, though. I mean you’ve been different. Not in a bad way and I totally get it, I mean I want this for you as much as the next person, if not more, but…” Stacie shrugs. “You’ve been my best friend for a long time. And sometimes I worry you don’t let yourself go enough.”

“...Oh?”

“I just mean,” Stacie sighs, rubbing a hand over her face. “Maybe we’re getting older, but there was a time when we did dumb, silly stuff together just for fun. I know there’s all this pressure on you and stuff, so it’s just nice. To see you all giggly and weird again for once. Because I love that about you and I’ve missed it.”

Emily doesn’t know what to say. A very warm appreciation for Stacie is spreading throughout her chest that she doesn’t know what to do with. “I’m sorry,” is what she finally comes up with, even though she knows it’s not what Stacie is looking for.

“Don’t apologize,” Stacie gives her a soft smile. “I just want you to know. I’ve been so in awe of you for so long and if anyone knows how much work you’ve put into everything, it’s me. I’m just happy for you. You deserve something or someone in your life that takes the pressure off and I’m glad it’s Beca. She’s cool. And she’s hot. So bonus.”

Emily laughs. Her whole body vibrates with warm fuzzies. “I mean, I like her a lot. But also,” she scratches at her nose self-consciously. “You’re my best friend, and you do that, too. I know it’s not the same, but I’ve appreciated all the times you’ve tried to… distract me. Even if I didn’t show it. I knew what you were doing and it’s helped.”

“Yeah, well, someone’s gotta talk you off the edge of becoming boring at the ripe age of twenty-two.”

“Wow,” Emily playfully scoffs and Stacie grins. “I love you, Stace.”

“Aw. I love you, too, Ems.” Then Stacie smirks. “So tell me, which of your sexy muscles was the turning point for Beca?”

Emily’s stomach shakes with laughter. “You aren’t gonna believe this, but I actually think it was my personality.”

Stacie gives her a skeptical look. “Mmm sounds fake… I mean, it’s a great personality, but…”

“I know,” Emily agrees. “It has nothing on my abs.”

“They’re just really good abs.”

“Right?”

Emily can’t focus.

It’s not her fault, really. It’s just that Beca is at her desk and Emily is in her bed, and she wants Beca to also be in her bed and, preferably, kissing Emily.

“I can hear you not doing work over there,” Beca says, after this silent yearning has been occurring for about thirty minutes.

Emily pouts even though Beca’s not looking at her. “I can’t focus. No thoughts, Beca. Head empty.”

Beca finally swivels to look at her, eyebrows raised. “You? No thoughts? I find that hard to believe.”

“Well,” Emily reasons. “Maybe one thought.”

“Oh?”

“You’re too far away.”

Beca’s lips twitch like she’s going to smile. “Oh, so this is my fault?”

“Yeah.”

“How rude of me.”

“Very rude.”

“Hmm.” Beca shakes her head in exasperation, but stands up from the desk chair and crawls on the bed. “My bad then, I guess.”

Emily’s heart flutters when Beca settles in her lap. She’s kind of obsessed with Beca being in her lap. Beca’s so small and cute and Emily loves to just hold her. It’s nice.

“So Chloe said that the team is out of town this weekend.”

Emily crinkles her nose, pouting. “Yeah. Friday and Saturday. Be back Sunday.”

“Bummer.”

“Why, you gonna miss me?”

Beca snorts. “I think it’s you who’s gonna miss me, actually.”

Emily nods in agreement. “That’s so true.”

Beca laughs. “Maybe I’ll miss you.”

“And my abs.”

“Yes, and your abs. Of course, can’t forget those.”

Emily grins and leans forward to kiss Beca, slow and chaste. When she pulls back, she can feel Beca’s smile on her lips.

“So what will you do when I’m gone?” She asks.

Beca shrugs. “Actually get things done, probably.”

“Wow, burn.”

“Well, you’re distracting.”

Emily raises her eyebrows. “ I’m distracting? It seems like you have no problem doing work while I lay here and think about doing other things.”

Beca gives her that crooked smile. “Who says I’m not thinking them? I just have impeccable willpower.”

“Ugh. Can’t you have like, less of it?”

“You know,” Beca says seriously. “I’m starting to think I’m a bad kind of distraction. I’ll give it another week and your grades will be in the gutter and you’ll have completely abandoned that crazy calendar.”

“Maybe.” Emily nuzzles her nose in Beca’s neck, loving it when Beca tilts her head to give more access. “But isn’t it worth it when I could be doing this instead?”

Beca hums when Emily starts kissing her jaw. “For me, yes. For you? Not so much.”

Emily pulls back, frowning. “What?”

“What?”

“What do you mean?”

Beca furrows her eyebrows. Her fingers twirl the ends of Emily’s hair, eyes flicking back and forth between Emily’s. “I just mean you’ve worked so hard for everything. Don’t abandon it all on my account.”

Emily blinks. “Babe. What are you talking about?”

“I know I don’t exactly… get it , the way your swimming friends do,” Beca shrugs, “but I don’t want to be the one who gets in the way of, you know. All your dreams and stuff.”

“I like that you don’t get it.” Emily squeezes Beca’s waist. “You’re not in the way.”

“It’s just that I know I don’t understand the dedication it takes and all the workouts and your weird nutrition guidelines and…” Beca takes a deep breath. “I literally cannot stand to be the one who fucks it up for you. You don’t know how much I can’t stand that.”

Emily pauses, mulling over her words carefully. “Beca, you’re never gonna fuck it up for me. I make my own choices as to how I spend my time. And I like spending time with you. I love spending time with you. I like, need to spend time with you. To keep me from turning into a disenfranchised swimming robot.” She leans in to kiss Beca on the nose. “Spending time with you is the best part of my day. It’s not a bad distraction.”

Beca glances away, blushing. “I mean… Not even a little?”

“Not even a little.” Emily lifts her hand to Beca’s cheek, nudging her back. “Promise.”

“Okay,” Beca says in a small voice. She rolls her eyes at herself, but offers Emily a smile. “A good distraction, then?”

Emily nods fervently. “The best.”

Beca hums happily. Her hands slip out from around Emily’s neck and slide down her shoulders. “By the way. I don’t know why you insist I have an obsession with your abs. I really am more of an arm girl.”

“Oh?” Emily tenses her arms, flexing under Beca’s fingers. Beca laughs.

Emily silently vows to wear more tank tops.

Emily’s feeling pretty good. She’s already won her individual heats and all that’s left is the relay.

She’s got one earbud in blasting BPM hype music, and with her free ear she’s listening to Stacie nervously ramble on about her recent Chem exam. As is their pre-race routine.

“What are you listening to? I can hear it through your dangly earbud.”

Stacie lifts the aforementioned earbud and puts it in her own ear. She nudges their shoulders together.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Stacie says after a second. “I put one of these songs on my sex playlist.”

Emily frowns. “Ew, Stace.”

“Well you’re always listening when we workout and I heard one that got me all hot and bothered.”

“TMI.”

“Okay, well anyway, what I forgot to tell you is, did you know this artist is based out of Atlanta? If you make the Olympic team, I bet you could easily arrange to meet. I’m sure they’d love to know that an Olympian owes all her success to them.”

Emily feels her eyebrows involuntarily raise. “Really? I didn’t know that.”

Stacie makes a sound of affirmation. “It says on their Spotify profile.”

“Oh.”

“I was trying to see if they’re hot, actually. But their dumb profile pic is just their logo. So annoying.”

Emily snorts. “Thirsty much?”

“Always, babe.”

Emily laughs, shaking her head in amusement. She rests her cheek against Stacie’s shoulder, yawning. She’s tired.

“No yawning,” Stacie says, poking her knee. “We still have one more race.”

“I know, I know.”

“Ready?”

Emily nods, letting the music hype her up, as it always does.

“Of course. We're gonna crush it."

And they do.

“Where are you?”

It’s the first thing Beca says to her when she picks up.

Emily laughs, spinning her phone around so Beca can see her surroundings. “Hiding in the little alcove where the hotel has the ice machine. It’s the only place I’m getting any privacy here.”

“Oh. The wall behind you just made it look like you were in a prison or something.”

“I so far do not have a criminal record.”

Beca’s lips quirk upward. “Well, that makes one of us. Anyway,” she says, ignoring Emily’s questioning look. “Congratulations, dude!”

“Thanks.”

“So did you beat your best time record thing?”

Emily smiles, chuckling at Beca’s attempt. “No, but I was close. Next time, maybe.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Tell me about your day. I feel like I haven’t talked to you in weeks.”

“It’s been seven hours.” Beca rolls her eyes, but starts telling Emily about her essay and hanging out with her crazy friend, Amy. Emily’s listening, but mostly she’s staring at Beca, watching as Beca sits at her desk, chin slumped in her hand. She looks pretty in the low light of her desk lamp and Emily’s hit with a twinge of missing her. “...and now I’m working on this music thing.”

Emily hums, impressed. “Wow. Maybe I should leave more often. I didn’t realize you were so studious and productive.”

Beca makes a face. “Babe. Please. I’m not doing school. This is a personal project.”

“Oh?” Emily leans closer to her phone. “Do I get to hear?”

Beca laughs. “Maybe when I’m finished.”

“Okay,” Emily concedes with a laugh.

They stare at each other for a minute, then Beca breaks the silence. “What time are you gonna be back tomorrow?”

“Mmm, probably early afternoon. Three or something.”

“Ugh. ‘Kay.”

Emily raises her eyebrows. “Why? You miss me?”

“No,” Beca snorts unconvincingly. “Was just worried you were missing me too much.”

Emily smiles knowingly. “Yeah, I am.”

“Yeah, thought so.” Beca peers closer at the computer on her end, eyes squinting. “I just realized it’s like eleven. You’ve had a long day. You must be tired.”

“No, I’m fine,” Emily says, but her body betrays her and she yawns. “Okay, maybe a little.”

“Did you stay up just to talk to me?”

Emily shrugs. “I wanted to see you.”

“Emily,” Beca scolds, but she’s smiling. “Go to bed.”

“Ugh,” Emily whines. “Fine. See you tomorrow, though?”

“Yes, just tell me when you’re back and I’ll come over.”

Emily sighs. “Okay, okay. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Emily’s about to hit the end button when -- “Wait!” She freezes as Beca waves her hands in front of the screen.

“What?”

“Miss you, too. Like, so much. Okay, now goodnight.” Then Beca laughs and ends the call.

Emily smiles as she pushes up off the ground and heads back to her room, and she doesn’t stop until she’s finally in bed, drifting off to sleep.

Beca’s working on homework when Emily sits down at the table with her dinner. “What’s that?” Beca asks, staring at the sandwich.

“Grilled cheese.”

Beca frowns, turning around to glance at Emily’s fridge. “You can eat grilled cheese?”

“It has your favorite on it. Arugula. And tomatoes.”

Beca looks at it skeptically when Emily takes a bite. “Is it… good?”

Emily glances over at her, eyebrow raised. “You wanna try?”

“Egh.” But Beca’s still staring at the sandwich. “Arugula? On grilled cheese?”

“It’s just like any other sandwich with lettuce.”

“I thought we agreed arugula was a salad green, not a lettuce.”

Emily snorts and hands it over. “Oh my God. Here, just try it.”

“Oh, no… ah, well, fine.”

Emily rolls her eyes knowingly as Beca warily raises the sandwich to her lips. Then she takes a small bite. Emily watches as she chews thoughtfully.

“Well?”

Beca hums, taking another, larger bite. “Tastes like grilled cheese.”

“See?”

“Pretty good.”

“Told you,” Emily says. Beca slides the plate over, but Emily pushes it back toward her with a laugh. “Keep it. I’ll make another.”

Beca grunts and takes another bite. Emily kisses her on the cheek and heads back to the kitchen, smiling.

“Thank you!” She hears Beca call from behind her.

She shakes her head in amusement, fondness swirling in her chest.

December brings nerves and exhaustion.

The first qualifying tournament is just around the corner and finals right after that. Emily’s busy, tired, and training harder than ever.

She practically collapses on Beca’s bed after her evening workout.

“Tired?” Beca laughs from her desk. Emily just grunts. “Wanna talk about it?”

Emily shakes her head. “Eh. Tell me about your day instead.”

“Okay,” Beca agrees. She climbs on the bed and on top of Emily, sitting on her butt and bracketing her body with her knees. Then she starts kneading Emily’s back, like a complete saint or an angel or the best girlfriend in the entire world, probably. “What do you want to know?”

“Anything.” Emily moans when Beca’s fingers dig into a sore spot. “Wow, I’m, like, totally obsessed with you right now.”

Beca snorts. “Just right now?”

“Usually. Always. But like, extra right now.”

“Okay.” Beca moves to rubbing her shoulders and Emily sighs. “Um, my day... I dunno. Oh! Here’s something you’ll find interesting. My Spotify Wrapped came out today. And I feel like you’ve been listening on my account because I don’t seem to remember Taylor Swift being in my top five artists.”

Emily grins into the pillow beneath her. “Mmm… no, that must have been Chloe.”

“Hm, I could swear it was from all those times I was on my laptop with my headphones on and you stole my phone to play music.”

“Okay, well. Fine.” Beca laughs and Emily lifts her phone in the air. Beca grabs it. “Tell me mine.”

“Okay.” Beca’s fingers leave her back. After a minute she says, “Okay, let’s see top five artists include, wow, shocking, Taylor Swift.”

Emily’s stomach shakes with laughter. “On brand. Who else?”

“Lorde, Hozier, the Hairspray soundtrack -- ha, really? -- and…” Beca trails off suddenly.

Emily frowns. “What?”

“Nothing,” Beca says. “Um. BPM?”

“Oh. Yeah. Do you know them? Probably not. That’s from my hype playlist. For running and my workouts and stuff I listen to before I swim. It doesn’t have lyrics so it’s pretty good for that kind of stuff.”

“Oh. Word.” Beca slides off of her, settling beside Emily.

Emily flips over to find Beca staring at her curiously. “What?”

“Nothing. Just.” Beca shrugs cutely, lips pursed like she's holding back a wide smile. “I think I… I mean. I just really like you and, um… ugh.” She shrugs again, apparently at a loss for words. She leans down and presses her lips to Emily’s, first soft and slow, then quicker, more urgent.

Emily shivers when Beca’s fingers crawl up her shirt. She reaches up more to meet Beca, deepening the kiss, her tongue sliding between Beca’s lips. Beca exhales hotly and Emily’s head spins.

She suddenly wants Beca so much she can’t take it.

She shifts and rolls, in love with Beca’s bed of clouds and the way Beca’s fingers feel on her skin. There’s a lot of emotion swirling around in her chest that she doesn’t know what to do with. She eases Beca back, sitting on Beca’s hips, and tugs at her shirt questioningly. Beca nods and Emily pulls it off.

Beca stares up at her, cheeks flushed and eyes playful. “Oh. Yeah. Okay. Cool.”

“Cool?”

Beca nods and pulls Emily further on top of her. Emily’s forearms settle on either side of her and Beca immediately wraps her fingers around her biceps.

Emily giggles, brushing their noses together. “Okay, I may have overestimated the abs. You really like the arms, huh?”

“Mmm,” Beca hums, leaning up slightly to bring their lips back together. “Don’t let it go to your head. You’re already so insufferable about these things.”

Emily grins against Beca’s lips, her hair falling around them, a thousand fireworks erupting in her stomach when Beca’s fingers drift over her arms and up her back, explorative and curious and gentle. Her entire body shudders when Beca scratches up her stomach, over her cleavage.

She tugs at Beca’s shirt and Beca sits up, wiggling it off, before pulling Emily back on top of her. When their skin touches, it burns more than the hot tub. Beca’s lips on her leave her breathless. Emily’s heart flips over itself and she suddenly feels dizzy.

Emily is usually very in tune with her body. She knows when she’s pushing herself too hard, when her backstroke is out of whack, when she’s hungry, when she needs to sleep, when she needs to, as Stacie says, rub one out. Even then, Emily is an expert at knowing what her body needs.

This feeling, though, this is new. This yearning she hasn’t felt before. Something beyond lust and basic sexual desire and whatever she felt those few times she’s had sex with her exes before.

She pulls back an inch, inhaling sharply. Beca’s hand leaves her arm and cups her cheek.

“One sec,” Emily murmurs. Beca’s eyes are so blue. It’s overwhelming.

“Okay,” Beca says easily. She twirls a lock of Emily’s hair around her finger with her other hand. “We can stop.”

“No,” Emily laughs, breathy and deep. Beca’s lips quirk up in a half-smile. “I really, really do not want to stop.” She stills suddenly. “Unless you want to stop. That’s fine. Let’s stop. Should we stop?”

Beca hums, biting her lips around a bigger smile. “I have never wanted to stop less in my entire life.”

Emily nods fervently. “Okay. It’s just a lot. I’m feeling a lot.”

“Let’s slow down. It’s a marathon, not a race. Like the 1500, not the 100.”

Emily closes her eyes, pressing her palm over her face, and laughs. “Oh my God.”

“What?” Beca pouts. “I’m learning what these things are!”

“Yes and it’s very sexy of you.”

“I know.” Beca grabs Emily’s hand. “You're better at the 1500 anyway.”

Emily sits up and breathes deeply, staring down at Beca, her body warm and wanting. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “That’s true.”

“See, I’m a quick learner,” Beca says, and she’s looking at her so soft and intensely Emily has to glance away before looking back. Then it’s like she can’t look away at all, wants to soak up how Beca looks, wants to drink in this moment for an eternity.

She lets her hand drift over Beca’s stomach, her chest, her collarbones. Beca is so beautiful, Emily thinks. And it surprises her, the intensity with which she thinks it. She’s thought it a hundred times, but Beca is looking at her like she’s never looked at her before, and it’s different.

But before she can say anything about that, Beca sits up, too, so they’re nose to nose, legs wrapped together, Beca’s hand on her cheek.

“Hey,” she whispers.

“Hey,” Emily whispers back.

“There’s no pressure,” Beca says, her thumb dancing over Emily’s cheek. “Not with me.”

Emily leans into Beca’s hand, eyes locked on Beca’s, and thinks, for the first time, that this overwhelming, unfamiliar feeling in her body might be love.

She nods, touches her lips to Beca’s, slow and soft, the thought filling her up up up, and leans into the feeling.

Emily’s slow to wake, and it takes her a second to realize why she’s so groggy. She didn’t set her alarm. She immediately reaches for her phone to check the time.

Crap.

It’s late. She can’t remember the last time she woke up without an alarm. Especially not on a Saturday, when she has to push herself out of bed, trying to motivate herself to run.

Ugh. Should she get up? She doesn’t want to get up.

“What are you doing?” Beca's voice comes from behind her. It’s raspy and slurred and probably Emily’s new favorite sound.

She rolls back over, meeting Beca’s eyes with a smile. “Just checking the time.”

Beca hums, eyes fluttering closed again. Emily watches her for a minute, caught up in the way the morning sun falls on Beca’s bare shoulders, the easy in and out of her breathing. She thinks of the night before and her heart stutter-stops, overflowing with happiness.

She snuggles closer, tangling their legs together and slinging her arm over Beca’s back. Beca makes a sound of contentment. Then she opens her eyes again.

“Isn’t it Saturday?”

“Yeah,” Emily murmurs, pressing her lips to Beca’s forehead. “Sure is.”

Beca doesn’t say anything for a second. Then she exhales against Emily’s skin. “You’re not gonna run?”

“No.”

“Wow.”

Emily laughs. “I know.”

“Is that, like... okay?”

“It’s great, actually.”

She can feel Beca’s smile against her neck. “Okay, well do you know the date?”

Emily scrunches her nose. “Like the sixth or something? I think yesterday was the fifth. Why?”

“Just need to make a note,” Beca murmurs, voice playful. “The day Emily Junk abandoned her calendar.”

Emily rolls her eyes, but her stomach shakes with a laugh. “Oh my God, go back to sleep.”

“What? It’s a historic day,” Beca giggles, already half-asleep again.

Emily doesn’t say anything, just snuggles closer and shuts her eyes, but she has to agree. It really is.

Emily thinks the universe must like her. Somebody out there must like her, at least.

She woke up this morning, the qualifying tournament just two days away and nerves and stress flowing through her entire body, to a notification that BPM dropped a new EP overnight.

Emily longboards to campus, listening to the new tracks, grateful to whoever out there decided that good things should come her way. Good things like talent and opportunity and friends and a girlfriend out of her dreams. Good things like a great EP from her favorite artist and her new favorite song.

The weird thing is that it’s not even one she could really run to. The beginning is good for it, quick and upbeat. But then it slows, to something soft and tender and questioning, before swelling back up. It eats Emily from the inside out. She can’t stop listening to it, plays it on repeat all day long.

Yes, she thinks, someone out there must really like her.

The song is stuck in her head.

She’s been going for about 25 laps now and she should be trying to ignore the burn in her limbs and the ache in her side, but she doesn’t even feel them, because the song is stuck in her head.

It’s like a feeling in her chest, that swelling toward the end, that she can’t quite shake. It pushes her forward as she turns into lap 28 and she thinks of nothing at all.

She’s completely unaware of where she stands in this race. She’s lost all sense of feeling and direction. There’s just the breathing and the swimming and the turning. And the song, a background soundtrack she can’t ignore.

She flips into the final lap. Time to shine.

She’s got a final burst of speed she’s been saving. Pushes herself harder than she’s ever pushed before.

And then -- the wall. It’s over.

Reality comes rushing back as she surfaces, an echoing cacophony of cheers and splashing. The song is gone.

She slides off her goggles, takes her time wiping her face. She almost can’t look, but she has to. She always has to.

Her heart stops.

She blinks. Squints. That can’t be right. Can it?

Then Coach is pulling her out of the pool, her teammates are screaming, clapping her on the back. Stacie is hugging her so tight she can’t breathe. The announcer is saying something and it sounds like gibberish over the noise all around her. She pulls back, looking in wonder toward the stands.

Beca waves, beaming at her. She turns and JUNK flashes across her back in big, white lettering. A disbelieving laugh leaves Emily’s lips.

An official comes by to tell her, but she already knows.

She made the trials.

“Seven seconds,” Beca whispers into her neck that night. She’s hovering over Emily, smiling into her skin, and Emily can’t stop laughing.

“And still ten seconds slower than the world record, you know,” she says, trying to be reasonable in the face of the day’s constant praise.

“Okay, well,” Beca murmurs, kissing her way up Emily’s neck. “You just shaved off seven seconds from your own personal record, what’s ten more?”

Emily hums, limbs jittery and warm. “I’m too happy right now. I don’t know what to do with it all. I feel like I’m gonna explode.”

“Good, you deserve it.” Beca leans back to look her in the eyes, her smile soft and tender. “You’re kind of amazing, you know? I mean, not as amazing as I am, obviously, but still. Pretty amazing.”

Emily slides her fingers behind Beca’s neck to hold her there. “Well, maybe we’re just pretty amazing together.”

Beca laughs, neck warm beneath Emily’s fingers. “Yeah. I’m about to show you just how amazing we are together, actually.”

“Are you?”

“Yes, didn’t you know?” Beca teases, leaning down to ghost her lips over Emily’s. “We’re celebrating.”

Emily can’t really argue with that.

The semester is over, she’s just taken her last final, and she’s on break.

There’s no more worries, no more stress.

She slumps on the couch, ready to unwind for the first time in months.

Then Stacie walks in.

“So,” she says, sitting next to Emily. “Something really weird just happened.”

Emily looks up from her text conversation with Beca. “What kind of weird?”

“Coincidental weird? Is that a thing?”

Emily hesitates. Usually when Stacie has gossip she kind of just starts talking and doesn’t stop. She’s being really… calm.

“What happened?”

“So, like, you know how I told you I put one of those songs on my sex playlist?”

Emily grimaces. “Yes, and once again. TMI.”

Stacie continues, ignoring her. “So, like, I was with Chloe just now and we had the playlist on because we were, you know, having sex, and --” Emily grunts and Stacie holds up her hands innocently. “Bear with me. So we had the playlist on and the song comes on, right? And…” She stops suddenly, squinting at Emily. “Em, do you know who BPM is?”

“Do I know who they are?”

“Yeah, like do you know their name?”

Emily shakes her head. “No, just the stage name. Does it matter?”

“It matters. Because the song comes on, and Chloe starts laughing . And she goes, ‘oh my God, Stace, you have Beca on your playlist?’ and I was like ‘what?’ and Chloe’s all ‘Beca? This is her song’ and I was like ‘shut the fuck up’ and she was like ‘for real’ and she pulled up Beca’s Insta and like… Have you ever clicked the link on Beca’s Instagram?”

Emily’s staring. She's obviously been on Beca’s Instagram, but has she never clicked the link? She pulls it up on her phone and clicks it.

It immediately takes her to BPM’s Spotify page.

Emily stares down at it.

“She never told you?” Stacie asks, voice soft. Emily shakes her head, completely dumbfounded. “I mean, it’s just weird, right? You’ve listened to her stuff for years .”

Something suddenly occurs to Emily and she clicks on the latest EP. She scrolls through the short list of songs, feeling a little shell-shocked. Their titles send a pang through Emily. “Halloween Handhold.” “Jacuzzi Symphony.” And her new favorite song, God help her, “December 5th”.

She thinks of that night, the way Beca looked at her, how she felt when Beca touched her. How that song makes her feel. She should have realized. How could she have realized?

Why didn’t she realize?

More than that, why didn’t Beca tell her?

She’s been trying to bring it up all day, but she doesn’t know how. Now they’re in Beca’s room, Beca at the desk, Emily in bed, and Beca keeps giving her weird looks over her shoulder. Finally, she spins around in the chair with a frown.

“Are you okay? You’re being super quiet and it’s kind of… weird.”

Emily nods. Shrugs. Shakes her head. “Uh. I need to ask you a question.”

“Okay,” Beca says, apprehensive. “Is something wrong?”

Emily doesn’t respond, just holds out her phone, open on BPM’s page. Beca stares at it, face going blank.

“Oh.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Beca fidgets, wringing her hands together. “I’m just surprised it took you this long to realize.”

“Beca.”

“I don’t know!” Beca stands up suddenly, clearly anxious. “I don’t know, I’m sorry.” She looks at Emily. Glances at the phone. Sits back down in the chair and puts her face in her hands.

“Remember way back when we first met and I told you I didn’t get nervous showing my stuff to other people?”

Emily nods. “You lied?”

“What?” Beca shakes her head. “No, I didn’t lie. At the time, that was true. But then… I changed. When I saw myself in your top five artists, it didn’t seem possible. It seemed even more impossible that I could be there and you didn’t even know it was me. It’s not like I’m super popular. I mean, me in someone’s top five with Taylor Swift? I froze. I felt so overwhelmed. I didn’t realize until that moment that the only thing I’ve ever shown you was that mashup I made like a million years ago. Then I saw my name and I was like ‘holy shit, she listens to my music and she doesn’t even know it’s me’. I wanted to tell you then and a million times since then.”

Emily frowns. “So why didn’t you?”

Beca’s lips twitch. She lets out a frustrated huff. “Because I was nervous. The thought of showing you made me nervous.”

“I don’t get it. Why would you be nervous if you already knew I liked your stuff?”

“Because,” Beca says, voice going small. There's a long pause and Emily waits. Beca closes her eyes, breathing deeply. When she opens them, her gaze locks on Emily's. “I love you," she shrugs weakly.

Emily blinks. Opens and closes her mouth three or four times. A strangled sound escapes her throat.

Beca lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Because we’ve been dating two months and nobody has ever made me feel like this. I got nervous. I’m still nervous.”

Emily doesn’t know what to say. Well, she knows what she wants to say, but she needs a minute. Instead, she pulls up the most recent EP and shows it to Beca. “Are these about me?”

“Yeah.”

“And ‘December 5th’? That was…”

Beca passes a hand over her face self-consciously. “Our first time. Yeah. When I realized I… how I feel.”

“It’s my favorite song,” Emily says. She offers Beca a small smile. “It’s really good.”

“Thanks.” They stare at each other for a minute. Then Beca sighs. “Are you mad?”

Emily deliberates for a second. “No, I’m not mad. I just wish I didn’t have to find out because Stacie has one of your songs on her sex playlist and Chloe told her.”

Beca grimaces. “Dude. What? No. Ew.”

“Yeah.” Emily crinkles her nose in disgust. Then she pats the bed next to her. “Come here.”

Beca sits next to her and Emily tangles their fingers together. She brings Beca’s fingers to her lips.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Beca says. “I was trying to. I didn’t know what to say.”

“This stuff is hard sometimes,” Emily reasons. She wraps Beca up in a hug. “I’ll forgive you if you tell me something.”

Beca hums in agreement. “Okay.”

“What does BPM stand for?”

Beca pulls back to look at her. “That’s what you wanna know?”

“Is there something else I should want to know?”

“Well, no, it’s just…” Beca laughs in disbelief. “It’s just my initials. Beca Porter Mitchell.”

Emily makes a face. “Porter? That’s your middle name?”

Beca grunts. “It was my grandpa’s name, dude! I didn’t choose it.”

“This whole time I thought it was like, Beats Per Minute or something.”

“No…”

“Ugh.”

Beca laughs again. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

“No, I’m not disappointed.” Beca looks at her skeptically and she laughs. “I’m not .” She grabs Beca’s hands again, turning serious again. “I love you, too, by the way. This just, like, proves it.”

“Does it?”

“Yes, because of the song.”

Beca looks at her questioningly. “Which one?”

“‘December 5th’. I heard it in my head when I was swimming that 1500 and I beat my PR.” She squeezes Beca’s hand. “Because of your song.”

Beca stares at her. “No, dude that was you. You did it by yourself.”

“I mean, yeah,” Emily agrees. “But you make me better. You made me do my personal best time ever. And maybe just in general.” She smiles at the thought, shrugging. “You make me my personal best.”

Beca looks down, hiding a small smile. Emily’s so endeared by her she can’t think straight. She leans forward and kisses Beca on the cheek.

“I love you,” she says, trying to put as much adoration into her voice as possible. “Even before I knew about the music.”

Beca meets her eyes, smile small but genuine. “I love you, too.”

“And my muscles?” Emily teases.

Beca rolls her eyes, but laughs. “And your muscles.” She gives Emily a fond look. "So we're good?"

"Yeah," Emily agrees, leaning forward to kiss Beca sweetly. "We're good."

AUGUST

It’s quiet underwater. It’s always quiet underwater.

Not in Emily’s head, though. In Emily’s head, there’s a song, and it drowns out her thoughts, fills up her chest, drives her forward.

She’s never swam so hard in her life, and as her hand touches the wall, as the sound of the crowd comes rushing back, she almost can’t bear to look, but she has to.

She always has to.

The jumbotron flashes the results. Her name. Oh… Silver medal. But her time…

A new personal best.

In the lanes next to her, people are celebrating, crying. Her teammate, the gold medalist, reaches over the rope to hug her.

When she releases her, Emily immediately turns toward the stands. She can barely see the people there, under the harsh lights, between the cameras and the people moving back and forth.

But then… there.

Stacie and Beca cheer in the stands, louder than anyone. Beca’s flashing her a thumbs up, beaming at her. She’s wearing a USA windbreaker, and when she sees Emily looking, she spins around, pointing at the back -- JUNK, printed in large, white lettering across the shoulders.

An overwhelming kind of happiness flows through Emily’s body, and she feels her eyes start to tear up. She lets out an emotional laugh.

This moment, she thinks as she climbs out of the pool, officially an Olympic Silver Medalist, this moment of her life might just be her personal best.

Notes:

as always, if you have made it to the end, thank you. you can find me at emilyjunk.tumblr.com.

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