"I don't want to have sex."

When Stacie says this, it takes her by surprise. If she doesn't want to have sex, then what is it they're doing here lying in bed together? After all, Stacie's a self-proclaimed nymphomaniac and Cynthia Rose admittedly likes to get in on the action whenever she can. She respects Stacie's wishes, though, and won't push her into anything she doesn't want. Sometime between their first meeting and her own tendency of being a bit too handsy, she's actually fallen for her.

The only reason they are here right now is because Stacie had pulled Cynthia into her dorm room following the eventual end of the party they'd mutually attended this evening. The brunette had collapsed into bed with her and began to cuddle against her, signifying that maybe she was down for something more than platonic tonight. But now she is insisting that she's not interested in going there, and Cynthia ponders telling her that it doesn't make you gay to let a girl go down on you, that she's willing to do it without reciprocation.

"You don't want to have sex?"

"Not right now, anyway." Stacie amends her statement, with a grin on her lips as her head moves to Cynthia's chest. "This is nice. I just, I'm not used to someone actually liking me for more than my body. But you do, don't you?"

"I do. You got a bangin' body, sure, but your personality is even more awesome."

"You know, I've never been on a real date before." Stacie admits with her voice low.

"No way. You haven't?" Cynthia Rose is appalled, wondering if maybe she can rectify this situation.

"Not unless screwing in a rest stop bathroom counts as a date."

"As, uh, romantic as that sounds, I don't think it does." Cynthia murmurs, trying to keep a straight face upon hearing Stacie's idea of a date.

The fact that Stacie hasn't been on a proper dinner date or treated like a lady the way she should be bothers her a lot. She's already scheming about what kind of romantic date she can take her on if she'll let her.

"I don't know why I'm like this." Stacie sighs, seemingly disappointed in herself. "I lost my virginity when I was twelve and ever since, having sex has become like a hobby. It's all I'm good at, anyway."

"But that's not true. You're a great singer, you can dance. You're funny."

"Maybe, but guess how many guys I've slept with?" Stacie challenges, her eyes fixed on the darker skinned woman.

She laughs. "I'd rather not."

"I've never been with a girl though." The way she says this sounds almost seductive. Cynthia Rose wonders if she realizes the power she has over people.

"I've been with a few."

"Well, yeah, you're a lesbian. Only a few?" She pries curiously; honestly astounded that Cynthia hasn't been with more than a handful of women.

"I'm a little bit more selective than you."

The words aren't meant to be hurtful and Stacie doesn't take them that way. Instead she revels in the idea that, if she desires to, she can become one Cynthia's the chosen few. The thought of having sex with a girl isn't an unpleasant one for her, just unfamiliar. She's not really sure what she's supposed to do or whether she'd even be good at it. She doesn't like not knowing her skill level with women. She knows her sexual prowess with men is off the charts. She's received gift baskets for her blowjobs.

"Can I kiss you?"

Stacie asks this with all the innocence of a child, seeming quite vulnerable as she gazes up at Cynthia waiting for a response. She doesn't know why it is she wants to feel Cynthia Rose's lips on her own. It might have to do with all the Jägermeister she drank tonight.

"You don't gotta ask." She smiles, looking down at Stacie's head on her chest.

The other girl leans up and brings her lips to Cynthia's, tentatively at first. Cynthia relaxes into the kiss, feeling her heart speed up as Stacie climbs onto her, her fingers tangling in her hair. She pulls away from Cynthia's lips, letting out a breath and then a stream of giggles.

"I'm really drunk." She discloses with a grin, her cheeks flushing pink with inebriation.

Cynthia laughs softly, tracing her thumb along Stacie's bottom lip. She looks at her like she's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen before. The look itself is remarkably similar to the face Cynthia makes after being dealt a particularly good hand in poker.

"Lay down next to me. We'll go to sleep."

"But we're not sleeping together!"

"No funny business, I promise." Cynthia Rose tells her, her eyes following the girl as she lifts off of her chest, sliding over to the other side of the bed. "Do you have plans tomorrow?"

"Mmm. Just Bellas practice." Stacie's eyes are already closed and she has her skirt pulled down halfway. She doesn't like wearing clothes when she doesn't have to.

"Could I take you out to dinner? Why are you taking off your skirt?"

"I don't—like—clothes." She grunts, dropping her skirt onto the floor below. She starts pulling her shirt over her head and opens her eyes to see Cynthia staring at her. "You want to take me out to dinner?"

"Yeah. After practice tomorrow night if that's cool." She helps the other girl when her arms get caught in her shirt, trying her best not to stare at Stacie's exposed chest.

Once her shirt is removed, Stacie settles back down onto the bed. She grins up at Cynthia Rose, feeling adored just by her gaze alone.

"Sure. Why not?"

After the date is agreed upon by both parties, neither girl has much else to say. They're tired and drunk, no longer possessing the energy to hold an extended conversation. Stacie turns out the light and in the darkness Cynthia shuffles into a more comfortable position before pulling the covers up over them. A tingling sensation envelops her body when she feels Stacie's arm brush against hers, an involuntary reaction to the accidental touch. She closes her eyes, realizing that all she can smell is Stacie's perfume, which is nothing short of enchanting…she'll have pleasant dreams tonight.

Stacie is dressed up as a Vegas showgirl, which to be fair isn't too different from how she usually dresses. Her dress is short and shimmery, showing off all her best assets. Cynthia's staring at her from the poker table, catching her eye from across the room. She lays down her cards and sweeps the table, expanding her mountain of poker chips. With a satisfied grin she leaves the game, cashing in the chips and approaching the brunette perched in the corner.

"Did you win, baby?" Stacie's voice, succulent and slow like honey, comes from her glossy lips.

"You know it." She smirks, bringing her girlfriend in for a kiss. The group of guys she'd just been playing poker with whoop and holler at them and she rolls her eyes. "Why don't we go back to the room and fool around?" Cynthia Rose suggests with an upward nod of the head.

"Sounds perfect." The other girl nips her ear and she feels a chill come over her body. Two years together and she still drives her wild.

"Hey, do you like toast?"

It's Stacie's voice, only this time she isn't dreaming. Cynthia's eyes snap open to see her standing purposefully beside the bed, dressed only in a shirt and boy shorts. It takes her a minute to adjust to what she's seeing and to realize it is reality. Too long, apparently, for Stacie. She snaps her fingers above Cynthia Rose's head.

"Hellllloooo? Earth to Cynthia?"

Without thinking, Cynthia grabs Stacie's fingers before she can pull them away. She lets go of them a moment later and slides up into a sitting position, yawning loudly before she answers the question posed to her when she first woke up.

"Yeah, I like toast. You makin' some?" She murmurs sleepily, stretching and making some unattractive stretching-accompanying-sounds that cause Stacie to grin widely at her.

She nods. "I am. And you're cute in the morning." She wrinkles up her nose and scurries off before Cynthia has a chance to respond to her strange compliment.

Cynthia Rose takes her time to make a pit stop to the bathroom, gargling some of Stacie's mouthwash and stopping to appreciate the interesting angles her hair seems to be sticking up in. She uses a brush lying on the table nearby and returns her hair's shape to some semblance of normal before returning to the bedroom. She doesn't mean to snoop but she sees something near the bottom of the bed and she leans down to pick it up, realizing when it's in her hands that it's a stuffed monkey. A grin comes to her face upon imagining Stacie sleeping with a stuffed animal, but she's not able to be amused for long because the other girl arrives carrying a plate of toast and a glass of orange juice. She sits them down on the bedside table and gasps when she discovers what her friend is holding.

Ripping the animal from Cynthia Rose's hands, Stacie's face turns pink.

"What are you doing with Fudgy?" She asks accusingly, stroking the animal's fur with an oddly protective nature. Cynthia bursts out laughing.

"I just never figured you for the stuffed animal type."

"Yeah, well, you don't know everything about me." Stacie huffs, hugging the monkey and placing it in the armchair in the corner. She sits down on the edge of the bed. "Anyway, I brought you toast and OJ. Hope you like pulp."

"I LOVE pulp." Cynthia assures her, in an attempt to win back her affection. She seems genuinely bothered that she laughed at her over the stuffed monkey and she feels a little guilty about it. The hurt expression on Stacie's face isn't helping. "So, how long you been awake?"

Stacie shrugged. "Couple hours, maybe. I don't get hangovers. I'm blessed that way. Anyway I got up to work out, like I do every morning."

The darker skinned girl looks surprised. "You do?"

"How else do you think I keep up this amazing body of mine?"

"You got a point." Cynthia Rose picks up a triangle of toast from the plate and takes a bite, murmuring when she swallows. "You make good toast."

"I know, right? I like it nice and brown." Stacie giggles at the connotation for a minute then seems to have a moment of slight guilt for doing so. Her eyes widen and she looks like a deer in headlights, hoping she hasn't offended her darker friend.

Cynthia laughs. "Baby, I know you do." She winks and Stacie laughs in relief, leaning over her and stealing a piece of toast from the plate. "What time is it, anyway?"

"One-fifteen." Stacie answers with her mouth full.

"Shit. Practice is in like an hour, ain't it?"

"Uh huh. How's your head?"

"Seems to be splittin' in half, if the sensation's any indication."

"I can get you some Advil or something. Hold on." She hops up from the bed and crosses the room, taking a bottle off the shelf. She carries it back and thrusts it in Cynthia's direction.

Cynthia Rose thanks her and takes the medication, hoping it will ease up her headache which seems to be a well-earned migraine. She drank more than she usually does last night and now she's paying for it in spades. She finishes the toast and juice, murmuring that she'd like to go back to her place to take a shower and change before practice. Stacie remarks that it would probably be weird if they show up to practice together anyway. The comment strikes her as odd but Cynthia doesn't say anything, telling the taller girl goodbye and being genuinely surprised when she's captured in a tight hug.

"I had fun." She admits as she pulls away, with all the charm of a six year old after experiencing a particularly enjoyable carnival ride. "We should hang out more often."

"Well, we still on for dinner tonight?"

Stacie had forgotten all about the plans they made last night but she nods in recognition once it's brought up again. She wonders what she's going to wear and where they're going to go and oh god it's a date, she's never been on a date. How's she supposed to act? Cynthia's obviously the guy, right? So is Stacie supposed to wear a dress and let her open doors and all that like in the movies? Is she going to be receiving flowers? She doesn't even think she owns a vase but maybe she has a glass tall enough…

Cynthia rips her from her anxieties, putting a hand on her shoulder as she notices the strange unreadable expression Stacie's face.

"You okay? If you don't wanna go to dinner, it's fine. It won't hurt my feelings none."

"No. I mean, yes. I want to go. I was just…" She blushes a little. "I was just trying to figure out what's expected of me on a date. I mean it's a date and I've never been on one and what do I wear and what do we do and am I supposed to sleep with you after?"

She's actually completely adorable when she's flustered, Cynthia thinks as she listens to her friend's rambling words. With her hand still on her shoulder, she squeezes it with a reassuring smile.

"Don't be nervous. It's only me. Wear whatever you want, we're just gonna eat and maybe hang out later if you want and no, you're not supposed to do anything you don't wanna do."

"But what if I want to? Sleep with you, I mean."

"Uh." Now it's Cynthia Rose that's flustered. "That's up to you."

Bellas practice seems to drag on for an excruciatingly long time. It's the typical experience of rehashing old dance moves and singing the same songs for the millionth time "because it'll make us better." An hour and a half into rehearsal, Stacie's so fed up with Aubrey's orders (she's convinced she's like an a capella drill sergeant) that she screeches about how she needs practice to end so she can get ready for her date. Aubrey scowls but the other girls look interested, asking who her date is with while Cynthia Rose stands there like a goldfish in a bowl, just floating there unable to say or do anything at all.

"It's a secret."

It's not that she's ashamed of the fact that she's going out with Cynthia, but it would be too weird to admit that she's going on a date with another girl. She's not even sure if this makes her gay or not, and Stacie really doesn't want to have to deal with the inevitable teasing from Fat Amy. Instead she insists that it's a secret while feeling Cynthia's dark eyes lock on her own and giving her an apologetic smile. When practice is dismissed, Stacie chases after her in the parking lot.

"Please don't be mad!" She yells after her.

Cynthia Rose spins around. "I'm not mad." She laughs as if to make her point. "I didn't really want them to know, either. They'd never let us hear the end of it. It's just a date, y'know? We're not getting hitched. No biggie."

"Yeah. No biggie. Should I go change before we go? Is this proper dating attire?" She gestures to her skirt and top, wondering aloud about the appropriateness of her shoes when she gasps, realizing her nails are chipped and actually apologizing for it.

"What? You look gorgeous. And I don't give a shit about whether your nails are chipped or not. You could not paint them at all for all I care. I'd like you even if you were a nail biter."

Stacie gasps dramatically at the mere suggestion she could ever bite her nails.

"I would never bite my nails. Gross. Besides, they say people who bite their nails are sexually frustrated, and obviously I have sex all the time, so that's not a problem." She pauses. "My nails are important to me. My whole appearance is, actually, but my nails are for me. The rest of it's for everybody else, y'know? The nails are my one thing that's just for me; I can express myself however I want. I like that. I don't know, you probably think I sound dumb."

Cynthia doesn't think she sounds dumb at all. She's actually enjoying listening to Stacie explain something that means so much to her. She might not understand it, per se, but she understands the idea behind it. She likes to express herself, too, just in other ways. Besides, she keeps her nails short. It works better when one's having lady sex.

"No, I don't think you sound dumb. I get what you mean about expressing yourself. I'm the same way with my hair, I guess." She admits, gesturing to her bright red locks. "So if it's cool my car's in the lot. We can go ahead to dinner if you want."

Stacie stops walking as they approach the edge of the lot Cynthia's just referenced. She's really nervous, because once she gets in the car the date starts and she's still not really sure how this is supposed to go. But the girl smiles at her and she feels at ease somehow, agreeing that they can leave for dinner earlier than originally planned. The two of them pile into Cynthia Rose's Chevy (a Chevelle, not a pickup truck—not even Cynthia is that butch) and sing along to some good music as they drive to the restaurant downtown. Stacie's anxieties melt away as she realizes that this isn't too bad actually, Cynthia likes her and they're spending time together, but she knows there are no expectations.

It's not like what she's used to, when the guy insists she sleep with him and she agrees. She's in control. She doesn't have to even kiss the girl if she doesn't want to. She hasn't had any alcohol so her mind is clearer than last night and she still finds herself wanting to kiss Cynthia Rose. She's not sure what this means exactly except that the other girl is nice to her and smells good. She decides not to harp too much on it.

Once they arrive at the restaurant, they go in together and Stacie's relieved that Cynthia doesn't walk around the car to open the door for her. They are shown to their table and order their drinks and food without much care, more focused on the conversation they're engaged in than what they're having for dinner. It feels a lot like friends hanging out, even though there's an implication of more. Stacie knows her dinner's being paid for, it was agreed upon as part of the terms for the date, and that hangs above her to remind her that this isn't just two friends grabbing a bite. But it doesn't bother her the way she thought it would.

"When did he die?" Stacie asks, as Cynthia's just told her that her father passed away a few years ago.

She's just finished explaining how her late father taught her every card game she knows, and admitting that a lot of the time she gambles just to feel close to him again. Stacie thinks that's really sweet, especially since she's never been close to her father. He's been out of the picture for a while now, leaving her mom to raise her alone. She raised herself more than her mother ever did, but she doesn't hold it against her.

Cynthia sighs wistfully. "Junior year of high school. He never got to see me graduate. You know I'm the first person in my family to go to college? My mama always tells me that he'd be so proud of me. I like to think she's right about that. She ain't right about much no more. I'm just glad I'm at Barden now instead of living with her and her alcoholic boyfriend." She wonders if she's revealed too much, but Stacie doesn't seem appalled or irritated at all.

"I can't imagine. My mom and I are super close, we're like best friends, but we weren't very close when I was growing up. My dad left when I was ten and I lost my virginity to my mom's boyfriend, George…it's a really long story." Stacie's embarrassed that she's just said this. "I've never told anyone that before. Please don't think badly of me, it's not something I'm proud of."

"I'm not gonna judge you. I've done some pretty messed up shit, too. Besides, you were a kid. You can't be held responsible for what you did as a child. If anything, he should be locked up."

"He is." Stacie murmurs before dropping her mouth over her straw, sipping some sweet tea. All this talking's making her mouth dry.

"My brother's in jail." Cynthia Rose shrugs, copying Stacie's motion. She's thirsty too. "It happens. So, remember before when you asked how many men I thought you'd slept with? If you still want to tell me, you can."

Stacie nods, swirling her straw around her glass with her hand.

"Forty six. I've been sexually active for seven years, so that's like six and a half a year. Well, not literally, some years were busier than others. God, I'm really slutty." She whispers this last part to herself, in disbelief that the number's gotten so high. "And do you wanna know the worst part? None of those guys ever told me I was beautiful. And none of them ever loved me. How messed up is that? Just once I wish someone would treat me like an actual human being." The conversation's so serious and Cynthia doesn't hesitate, her hand reaching for Stacie's on the table. She holds it for a minute.

"You're beautiful."

It's literally the most perfect thing Cynthia Rose could've said in that moment and Stacie honestly feels herself tearing up at the words. She squeezes her date's hand, her heart swelling at the way she's being looked at, and because she knows the woman across from her means what she's saying. She swallows the lump forming in her throat, trying to figure out what to say back. She manages a croaked thank you before the waitress brings them their dinners.

They don't talk about heavy things while they eat. They don't even continue the conversation they were having before. Instead they chat about the Bellas and school and whatever they can think of, and it takes them a long time to realize it when their plates are empty. Cynthia pays for their meal with a credit card, signing the receipt in remarkably elegant script before leading Stacie out to the car. Right when Cynthia Rose goes to walk around the car, Stacie grabs her arm.

She spins around, giving her a questioning glance. Stacie kisses her, slowly at first, not even touching her. But then her hands find the sides of her face and she deepens the kiss, letting it grow more urgent until finally she pulls away, gasping slightly for breath.

"You didn't have to do that." Cynthia thinks she's kissed her out of obligation.

"I know." Stacie whispers against her lips, kissing her a second time. "I wanted to." She explains when their lips separate.

Cynthia Rose reluctantly gets into the vehicle, unable to think straight due to how fast her heart's beating and the way her mind is racing. She honestly can't believe that the girl of her dreams, the girl she's been dreaming out all year, has kissed her. And she didn't have a drop of alcohol. She starts the car in a robotic fashion, not really thinking about the motion or anything else. She backs into the curb, though, which brings her back to reality.

"Shit." She keeps repeating the word to herself over and over, putting the vehicle in park and walking around to survey the damage. There's a slight scrape but nothing serious and she returns to the driver's seat, realizing when she's pulled out of the lot that she doesn't know where she's driving to.

Seeing the confused look on her date's face, Stacie gazes over at her.

"Can we go to your place?"

Words fail Cynthia at that moment. She stares over at Stacie incredulously and gives her a pronounced nod before trying her best to concentrate on the road. The last thing she needs to do is to get into another, more serious accident. She just can't believe this is really happening. She had no expectations for tonight and now here she is taking Stacie to her place. She isn't sure what the girl has in mind, but she'd be content to just hold Stacie until she falls asleep. She's never held a treasure so close to her heart before.

When she ends up at the dorm, she's almost completely paralyzed. Without realizing it, she's opened herself up to someone again. She promised herself she wouldn't. But Cynthia Rose knows herself well enough to know what her feelings are. She's in love with this girl-this girl who may or may not be experimenting with her. She wonders if Stacie realizes the power she has. How easily she can crush her beneath her heel by snapping her back from fantasy land; how she could undo everything by admitting that she prefers the way boys' lips feel against her own, that she'd rather be friends. Cynthia has set herself up for some serious heartbreak. It's fear that paralyzes her there in the driver's seat.

But it's certainty that mobilizes her. Certainty that Stacie's lips are on hers (when did that happen?) and certainty that the words that tumble out of her mouth are irrevocably, undeniably true.

"I like you so much."

After hearing these words, she realizes the whole evening hasn't been an elaborate, well-thought out fantasy. She realizes that Stacie isn't toying with her. She realizes that both of them have genuine feelings for each other. And she realizes she has no idea where this is going to lead. But that doesn't bother her the way that it maybe should. Instead, as she leads Stacie into her dorm room by the hand, her entire body tingling, she decides to let it lead where it will. She doesn't let herself get caught up in the what-ifs and maybes and lets herself live in the moment. And she knows this moment, and all the other ones leading up to it, are moments she won't ever forget.