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Girl Jam

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“So, do you think you could do a different mix of Titanium?” Chloe asked her one evening after practice.

“Do you really think we should do the same song again?” Beca asked.

“Not for the team. For me. For personal use.” She gave Beca a wink.

Becca rolled her eyes. That’s right. The song was Chloe’s ‘girl jam.’ “Forget it, Chloe.”

“Come on. Every time I try to, you know, get my jill on, I think of chorus practice now. I need a new mix. Totally different. I know you can do it.”

“No way. Get your freak on with Taylor Swift or something.”

“I know you meant that as an insult, but I really like her music.”

“Of course you do.”

Chloe ignored that and kept arguing her case, and Beca kept ignoring her.

But somehow when Beca got home that night, she started working on her new Titanium mashup.

She was starting to think that Chloe had some special argument-winning powers. At least with her.

A few days of editing later, she was satisfied with the result and gave the mashup to Chloe: it mashed up Titanium first with Nelly, then with an operatic aria, then with Florence and the Machine, and finally with Joan Jett.

A day later, she found a small peach colored envelope had been left on her desk in her dorm room, alongside a plate of cookies.

It was a thank you note. An actual frickin’ thank you note, the kind where the little card has pink and peach flowers on the front and Chloe’s perfectly elegant handwriting said: “Thank you for the lovely gift. I REALLY enjoyed it! Hugs, Chloe.”

Unbelievable, Beca thought. Only Chloe would write a Martha-Stewart-worthy thank you note for getting her off with music.

She tossed the card in a drawer and laughed. She also tried one of the cookies, dark chocolate chip with dried cherries and pistachios. Crispy on the outside, gooey and soft on her tongue on the inside. Probably the best cookies she had ever tasted.

She ate another two cookies rather messily, crumbs lingering on her lips, and then she tried to focus on all the studying she had put off while working on the mashup.

Later that night, though, lying in bed, she had trouble sleeping. She kept thinking about Chloe, getting off to her song.

Great, Beca thought, Now I’m one of those pretentious artiste assholes who love to think that everyone just creams at their genius.

Though of course Chloe kind of literally did.

She thought about what Chloe did during the song, maybe running her hands over her own breasts in the slow parts, maybe working herself up slowly. She imagined Chloe lying there in the dark, headphones in, letting the sensations take her away. (Chloe probably did it with the brightest possible lights on, using toys Beca hasn’t even heard of, but for some reason, Beca liked the idea of simplicity, of nothing on Chloe’s mind but the music and her own body).

She wondered if Chloe thought about her, during.

She imagined Chloe after, too, glowing with pleasure. Impossibly grateful to Beca.

Beca started to run her own hands over her own body, imagining it was Chloe’s, that Chloe was lying there, writhing in pleasure, so very grateful that Beca was giving her orgasm after orgasm.

She thought of Chloe writing a thank you note after a great night of sex, then, and almost started laughing.

She imagined Chloe getting up to bake cookies, naked except for a peach-colored apron. Chloe laughing as she inelegantly licked cookie dough off her finger.

She imagined Chloe welcoming her home after a long day, Chloe pulling her into bed to stop her from working all night at her computer, Chloe making her breakfast after sleepy early morning sex.

It was working for her.

When she was done, Beca lay there panting, trying to keep as quiet as she could.

When she started to have rational thoughts again, she told herself, Don’t worry. You’re not some brainwashed tool. You just want all of that ironically.

She smiled then, in the dark of her room, almost laughing out loud. You fucking sing a cappella, you dork. Wanting to go down on your bff while she wears a frilly apron is practically subversive by comparison.

She rolled over and felt the coolness of the pillow on her face. She closed her eyes and tried to dream of Chloe.