We started singing and everything went wrong. We were off key, our choreography was behind or ahead, and we were dancing like pigeons.
"Stop," Howie said.
"I'm so sorry, Howie. I know we're not performance-ready-"
"I wanted the hot Bellas, not this barnyard explosion. I'm not paying for this. Let's go, come on," Howie said.
Aubrey sighed as we were led out of the party. We were practically doing the walk of shame.
"Well, I hope you remember how you feel, so you never want to feel this way again. Chloe, your voice didn't sound aguilerian at all. Chloe, we're serious. What is wrong with you?" Aubrey turned to Chloe.
Chloe turned around. "I have nodes," Chloe announced.
We all gasped. "What? Oh my god," Aubrey said in surprise.
"I found out this morning," Chloe breathed.
"What are nodes?" Beca asked cluelessly.
"Vocal nodules. The rubbing together of your vocal chords at above average rates without lubrication," Aubrey said.
"They sit on your windpipe, and they crush your dreams," Chloe added.
"Isn't that painful?" Beca questioned in amazement.
"Think of needles sharply stabbing at the inside," I winced.
"Why would you keep performing?" Beca asked, looking between us.
"Because I love to sing," Chloe said.
"It's like when my lady doctor told me not to have sex for six weeks, and I did it anyway." Stacie shook her head.
"You should really listen to your doctor," I said, looking at my roommate.
"The key is early diagnosis. I am living with nodes. But I am a survivor. I just have to pull back, because I am limited. Because I have nodes," Chloe explained.
"Chloe, this is horrible," Audrey said.
"Well, at least it's not herpes," Fat Amy commented, trying to ease the situation. "Or do you have that as well?"
We headed back to campus, and I got dressed into my pajamas, a loose t-shirt and pajama pants. I sighed as I sat on my bed. Stacie left to go meet up with friends of hers. I sat on my bed, writing lyrics.
"Boy, don't try to front, I-I know just, just, what you are, are-are. Boy, don't try to front, I-I know just, just, what you are, are-are. You got me goin'. You're oh so charmin'. But I can't do it... womanizer," I sang.
"I hope that's not about me." Donald smirked, leaning on the doorway.
I jumped slightly, but then smiled. "Britney Spears will never be about you."
He stood there. "You can come in. I don't mind."
Donald sat next to me. I grabbed a DVD behind me and started the movie. Donald smiled, recognizing the movie. He wrapped an arm around me, making me blush. As payback, I laid my head on his shoulder and moved closer to him. He calmed his breathing after a moment.
"Falling asleep, Wallace?" Donald smiled.
"Not a chance, Walsh," I retorted.
I looked up at him, noticing he was staring at me. His eyes were wide. He looked like he was about to lean in, but I turned back to the movie, a bright blush coating my cheeks.
The movie ended, and Donald got up. "Alright, get some sleep. Your brother won't be happy if you don't show up for classes." He kissed the top of my head, surprising me. He smiled. "Good night."
"Good night," I managed to say.