Ok, this is a weird fic for me - I like a lot of dialogue in fic, whether I'm reading it or writing it. And with these two, the snappy dialogue is the best part ("No," you're automatically saying,"the ENDINGS are the best part!") But this idea does not have a lot of dialogue - mostly Jesse reflection; I'll try to do as much dialogue as I can. Gonna be a short one - maybe 5 chapters. Thanks for reading, and please review!

Everything was coming together great, he thought to himself as he walked briskly to the auxiliary theater. Jesse had only been at Barden a month, but he felt like he had things under control; classes and his roommate were good, he found some time to spend on the pianos in the music department each week, he made a few friends and he was looking forward to auditions today. The Treblemakers were a critical lynch pin in his plan for success; the guy who can sing always get the girl.

Not that there was "the" girl just yet – there were a fair share of potential candidates for his attention on campus, and he knew that list would grow as soon as he was a Treble, just as it did in high school through show choir and the drama club.

In addition to the standard fare, Jesse was also keeping his eye on his co-worker; there was something about Beca that was telling him not to rule her out. He didn't know exactly what it was, but he meant what he said about her being "beautiful the whole time." He wouldn't be a guy if he didn't notice her certain obvious physical assets, even if she did hide them under grunge gear that would make Cobain take notice, and enough eye makeup to keep Max Factor in business.

These musings carried him into auditions, where after a solid Clarkson rendition, he was confident that he would be approached by the Trebles. Heading out of the theater, he reached for his phone and realized he left his hoodie, and his phone, backstage. A quick jog had him entering the building to overhear a conversation on stage – weird, he thought auditions were over. And that voice seemed vaguely familiar, though there was something different…

He poked his head around the corner, only to be shocked at a seated Beca onstage. Huh – that's why it seemed familiar, just minus the sarcasm and cynical air it usually carried. What was she-

And he stopped mid-thought, as the confident timbre of her voice assaulted him. A lusty alto he could not believe was coming out of THAT personality floated out into the theater, pretty much knocking all the listeners back in their seats. That, paired with the obvious ability to keep a complex beat going (in a truly unique way) quite literally put him into a daze. He shook his head in disbelief, and the word "wow" pretty much summed up the entire experience.

Armed with this new knowledge, he grabbed his forgotten stuff and headed out again. Beca Mitchell just rose a giant notch in his Barden female rankings, not only for her ability to turn his insides into butter, but the enigma she kept turning out to be. He kinda liked a girl that would keep him on his toes.