"Whose book is this?" Chloe wonders aloud as she picks up the thick paperback from its spot on the coffee table. It's not uncommon to find school books and the occasional romance novel lying around the house, but this one she's never seen. Curious, she opens the book, careful not to allow the bookmark to fall from the pages, and quickly scans the text. There isn't one word she's able to decipher. The redhead quickly realises, despite the fact that she's a self-proclaimed avid reader, she doesn't recognise the book, nor the language in which it's written. She looks up at the girls lounging around the living room as she asks, but they all shrug and turn back to the television show they're currently binge watching.

Then Fat Amy walks in from the kitchen with a bowl full of potato chips, takes one look at the item in her hand and grabs it, "Hey, I know this book. What's it doing down here?" With a frown, Chloe lifts her gaze to stare at her. Fat Amy falters as she realises that the owner had sworn her to secrecy only a week earlier. She tries her usual routine of humming and hawing to avoid confrontation, but Chloe is having none of it. "You've probably just been hanging out with Shawshank too much. You know, she's into this kinda stuff...did you guys join a book club or something?

"This book is Beca's?" Fat Amy nods. "Since when does she know - whatever language this is?"

Fat Amy crooks her neck and squints her eyes at the title page, "I think that's Arabic, I can't be sure though —" The nervous chatter is interrupted as Chloe clears her throat and the girl turns back to her baring her teeth. "Shortie speaks, like, twelve languages. It's hard to keep track."

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah, girl's basically a genius. Or so I've heard," Fat Amy adds as an after thought, then leaps onto the couch next to Cynthia Rose and promptly spills half the chips over the unsuspecting girl's lap.

Shock still written all over her face long after the girls have once again turned their attention back to the television, Chloe just stands there. It's not that she doesn't think her friend is smart, because obviously she is, but everyone would probably agree that Beca rarely put any effort into anything remotely in the realm of academia. Then again, there's no evidence that the small brunette has actually failed a class thus far.

"Hey nerds, what's going on in here?" Beca pokes her head into the living room, appearing at the doorway seconds after announcing her arrival home. She lets her gaze roam around the room when no one answers, lips curling into a smirk as they fall upon Chloe. "How to Get Away with Murder marathon?" She guesses, carelessly slipping her backpack onto the floor beside the television. The group mindlessly nods in synchrony, unable to tear their eyes of the screen as something exciting happens. "Cool, well, I'll be in my room if you need me. Enjoy!"

Chloe listens as Beca practically sprints up the stairs before lifting herself up on the balls of her feet and spinning around to follow her. She's exactly where she says she'll be, although it's a surprise to find her sprawled across her bed, laptop open and bulky headphones sitting over one ear after such a short time has passed.

"Miss me already, Chlo?" Beca greets her as she climbs the short steps up to their room, the creaky floorboards alerting her to the visitor before the door can be cracked open. "I was literally just downstairs."

Without a word, Chloe settles down on the end of the bed as she has many times. "You know me," She laughs, easing into the conversation. "So, I, uh, found this book downstairs and someone told me it was yours. Thought you'd want it back since it looks like you're in the middle of reading it." Beca peeks over the top of her laptop and then, without offering an explanation, immediately sinks back down to work on her computer. "Also, rumour has it that you're a closeted genius," Chloe adds impatiently, skipping over their usual dance.

"Hmm, I don't know if I'm closeted in any sense of the word. Pretty sure I've been out of the closet since the fifth grade." And Chloe knows, even though she can't see her, that Beca's smirking from behind that screen.

"Seriously, Becs. Is it true you speak twelve languages?"

"That depends," She sighs, "Who told you that?"

"Fat Amy."

Finally, the computer screen is lowered and Chloe can see her face as she lifts herself up and scoots backwards to lean against the headboard. "Of course, I should've guessed it would be her. You know she grossly exaggerates, like, ninety percent of the time, right?"

"Then tell me she's lying," Chloe challenges her and, under the girl's stare, Beca's entire body seems to so subtly stiffen that the redhead almost doesn't catch it. The moment of silence is enough to give her the answer, though, even after Beca gives her a short, noncommittal shrug. "Right, so, assuming what Amy said is true, you're an actual genius."

As though considering it, Beca scratches her head and moves her laptop to a safer location. "I mean, I guess you could say that," She mutters under her breath. "But genius is such a strong word, it's not exactly the term I would use to describe —"

"Alright, fine, whatever. So, that time you begged me to help you study for a physics exam you had forgotten about and we spend all night going over the material. Did you even need me?" Chloe scoots closer to her, suddenly recalling all the times Beca had lied to her.

Beca seems to remember the stressful all-nighter more fondly, a snort escaping her, "Oh yeah, that. You're just so cute when you get angry and once Stacie ratted me out about the exam and you got ahold of my notes, I didn't have the heart to stop you." Then, with a wink, she adds, "Aced that exam, by the way. Thank. You. Very. Much."

"Without my help, apparently," Chloe reaches across the bed, nearly falling over in her attempt to hit the girl's leg. "What about that time Aubrey, Jesse, and I dragged you to that bar for trivia night and I totally kicked your butt?"

Just in time, Beca dodges the older girl's palm and tucks her legs closer to her chest. "Okay, that time I had a really good reason! You're the most competitive person I know. There's no way I was going to get in the way of you winning. I'd never ever ever hear the end of it and I have to deal with you for at least another year."

"That's so not true," Chloe pouts.

"C'mon, Chlo," She drawls, the smirk back in its place, "You know as well as I do that I'm right. Heck, you're the reason we can't have game night anymore."

Until recently, Wednesday nights had been devoted to fun after several of the Bellas came close to having nervous breakdowns following a particularly difficult semester. Of course, it was all Chloe's idea. She had already been devoting her time to helping the girls in anyway she could, which often involved baked goods. Then one day, she declared the start of game night, to the cheers of all but one obvious protester who happened to be sitting in the living room at the time, and it became tradition from then on. Until Jessica ended up beating Chloe is a card game by one measly point and a whole new side of their friend reared its ugly head. Wasting no time at all, Chloe immediately challenged the poor girl to every game she could think of in an attempt to redeem herself, and, when that didn't happen, she drunkenly accused her of cheating and threatened her with the cards she had left.

"Fine. Maybe I'm a little competitive. But that comes from having four older brothers. That still doesn't explain why you kept this from me."

Their eyes meeting for the first time, Beca lets out a long, heavy sigh. "Because people change once they know. They actually expect things from me and that's just — it's too much pressure."

Finally it makes sense to her and Chloe softens at the admission. She realises that, in the ten minutes they've been talking, this has put Beca in a whole new light. And, when the thought arises that Beca really could put more energy into her work, she admonishes herself and turns back to her friend. "Is that why your father is so tough on you? I mean, he's probably not pleased with your lack of effort this semester."

Beca scoffs and, with a grin and wiggle of her eyebrows, adds: "Hey, I studied all night for a physics exam once!" Before putting on a straight face again. "But, seriously though, he's not. I would like to point out, however, that this whole college experience was his idea, not mine, so I don't see why effort should be required."

"Becs. He's just trying to look out for you. Earning a college degree can open so many doors for you."

After having this conversation many times with her family, Beca doesn't think as she casually resorts to her usual answer. "Yeah, doors I don't need opening." It's out there now, and Beca knows Chloe won't let just let it go, but she's enjoying Chloe's face twist in confusion. "Anyway, this conversation needs to stay between us. I told the same thing to Amy, but, in all honesty, I should've known she'd break that promise. I trust that you will keep my secret, well, a secret."

"I promise." Chloe winks, "But before that happens, you need to back up a little bit."

"Huh? What —"

But the attempt to play dumb is ignored. "What did you mean when you said you don't need the doors opened for you?"

Although expecting the question she's avoiding eye contact again, knowing that one look at the redhead's cerulean eyes would crumble the wall. "I mean, I already kind of have a job."

"At the radio station?" Chloe asks and it's a perfectly legitimate guess. But Beca laughs and she's back to being confused again. As far as anyone is concerned, the brunette only ever left the house for the dark, secluded building on the other side of campus, rehearsals, and very occasionally, her classes.

"Well, yes and no," Beca answers with a shy smile. "I've known Luke since I was little and he took it upon himself to drag me to the radio station to hang out and work sometimes. Mostly I just play around on the mixing board."

"So what is it you do then?"

"How about we save that conversation for another time. New subject, please?"

"Fine," Chloe sighs, letting her friend know that it wasn't going to be tabled for long, "Tell me, how many languages do you really speak? Was Amy really exaggerating?"

"Not exactly what I was going for, Chlo. I meant something completely different."

"Too bad," She singsongs.

"C'mon, Chlo," Beca groans, falling onto her back.

But Chloe only gets more stubborn, "C'mon, Becs. I'm your best friend! You owe me this much."

She knows that Chloe isn't comfortable with silence, so Beca lays there with her arms crossed against her chest and waits. It takes a little less than a minute for her to shift on the bed and scoot closer to the brunette and another thirty seconds for her to start threatening her. "Don't make me tickle you."

"You wouldn't dare." Beca calls her bluff.

"Willing to take that risk?" The answer is no. Chloe is just as familiar with her weaknesses and often uses them to her advantage.

"Maybe if you were more observant, you would already know," Beca finally tells her with another sigh, but this goes over Chloe's head. "The bookcase. Behind you."

Her face lights up and is turned, with gusto, towards object in question before Beca is able to comment. "That's your bookcase? I always thought it was Amy's!"

"Hey," Beca frowns, "What is that supposed to mean?!"

"Nothing!" Chloe launches herself in the direction of the bookcase and runs her fingers across each spine, silently counting each language. "Beca. There are at least twenty different languages here."

"Yeah, well, I'm still learning some of those," Beca shrugs as if it's nothing.

For those of you following my other stories, I promise I'm not abandoning them (and, yes, I know I say that every time). I'm kinda stuck right now and I get unstuck by writing shorter stories as they come to me.

So, I hope you enjoyed this one! :)

Roosie