community fic: gardens under the rain (2/2)
gardens under the rain (2/2)
“Annie. Think about it. This is me. Would I ask you out again just to make you feel okay?”
jeff/annie. pg-13. 3096 words.
(Thanks so much to everybody for all the lovely comments! If you missed it, you can read part one here.)
A breeze ruffles Annie’s hair as she waits for the light, but she hardly notices it. The last few days have been so fraught with drama: her breakup via telephone with Vaughn, who proceeded to defriend her on Facebook and call her all sorts of filthy things on his Twitter account, not to mention last night’s debut of the song “Annie Burns Me Like Coffee,” which she was somehow able to hear even over the roar of the espresso grinder. And there were those two calls to Jeff, post-kiss and post-breakup, where she had both times hung up, her panic making her completely forget the fact that his cell phone would make it obvious that this was Annie Edison, not some random telemarketer, calling his cell phone. And to make her life even more miserable, he hasn’t called her back in the twenty two hours since her last call, although her phone turned off in her purse last night so she can’t be entirely sure. A breeze has nothing on what’s currently bubbling inside her brain.
A horn honks, though, and Annie jolts back into the present moment, ready to give a good eye-roll to whatever creep is leering out his car window.
Instead she catches sight of a familiar manly hand, waving, attached to Jeff Winger’s body, housed inside his infamous Lexus, window gliding down to open.
“You do know you have the walk signal, right?” He’s squinting against the sunlight. “Or were you waiting forme to offer you a ride?”
Yesterday, before her second failed effort at calling him, she would’ve melted into a smile but really, twenty two hours is more than enough time to return a girl’s call. She squares her shoulders.
“I think I’ll walk,” she says, tossing the words over her shoulder like Britta would do, all coolness and determination as she makes her way across the intersection. Even the wind’s insistence on trying to flip up her skirt can’t faze her: she grabs a reassuring wad of fabric and continues on, dignity firmly intact.
Halfway down the next block she hears a car pulling over, just behind her. It’s too quiet, it must be Jeff’s car. Sure enough, after a few seconds she can hear his stride, power-walking to catch up to her -- at least, hopefully it’s Jeff, it could be some serial killer and what if he or she drags her off, it’d be terrible to die like --
“Annie, wait!” It’s Jeff’s voice and against all her very best intentions she feels her shoulders slump in relief.
“Yes, Jeff?” She turns around, cool and slow, allowing herself to smile only a little. It’s a much better option than being killed and eaten, or whatever serial killers are doing to their victims these days.
“Look, I was going to call you -- this is awkward, right?”
“Mostly because you’re staring at the sidewalk,” she says, unable to help herself. “And I probably shouldn’t have hung up before you could answer your phone.”
He looks at her then, and the lawyer front he usually makes seem so natural has slipped and it’s a transformation, he’s become someone capable of awkward, possibly even tender, moments. She smoothes her palms down the front of her skirt.
“Are you free for dinner tonight?” he says, and she sneaks a hard pinch on her thigh, just in case this happens to be a really vivid daydream.
“I have work again at six until midnight. But I’m free tomorrow?” When he’s probably going out with a swimsuit model or something.
“My dinnertime happens to be open then, too. I’ll see you then, milady?” He bends into a silly bow, with a flourishing twist of his wrist.
“Sounds like a plan, milord,” she says, dipping into her most proper curtsey.
It doesn’t occur to her until she reaches her house that they haven’t set a time or a location. It’ll work out. It’ll work out.
“You’d never believe how much coffee these little old ladies drink,” Annie says, twiddling her fingers around the stem of her wine glass. Her lipgloss has made a sticky stain along the rim. “Honestly, some of them come in three times a day! That can’t be good for them.”
“Maybe it gives them extra good luck at Bingo.” Jeff puts a piece of steak in his mouth. “What do little old ladies do, anyway? Besides coffee with their own kind.”
“I’m not sure. My grandparents died when I was little.” The words slide out easily, without any pain. Did she drink that wine too quickly? “But I guess they must do something, right?” There’s a pause. It’s not awkward, but she wants to fill it. “Are you afraid of getting old, Jeff?”
His eyes widen and it occurs to her that it may have been the wrong question but still, she wanted to know and wasn’t he training her to be a good journalist?
“Sometimes -- wait, are you drunk? Your face is all red. God Annie, how much did you drink?” That tone she hates is creeping into his voice. It’s important that she act very grown-up.
“I’m fine. Really!” She picks up her fork and spears a cherry tomato from the midst of her salad, to prove it. “You’re avoiding the question.”
“You’re, what, nineteen years old? I shouldn’t have let you order wine. They know me here, they think you’re --”
“One of your usual girls? Britta? Why’d you date her, Jeff?” Weirdly it is this question, and not the slow hazy spinning of the room, which tells Annie that after three glasses of wine she is indeed drunk.
“Annie.” Sometimes she forgets that a year ago he was a lawyer and then he uses that firm, commanding tone and everything inside her freezes, except for the room’s slow spinning. “I’m not here with Britta. I’m here with you. And people are starting to stare at us.”
“Just tell me why you dated her.” She keeps her voice low. She’s good at following rules.
“It was one of those things -- I needed to know if it would work before I could move on. But it was like, it was weird, it was like kissing my sister. She’s hot but it was weird, it was kind of gross.” He’s pulling a face. He’s telling the truth.
So she makes sure to be very prim as she places her napkin on the table and gets up from her seat, even when Jeff’s expression changes from confusion to concern.
“I don’t want to hear about you kissing someone else,” she explains, and she only wobbles a little as she walks out of the restaurant.
By the time the headache recedes, with the help of ibuprofin and three cups of coffee, Annie’s stomach clenches with regret. It could just be the coffee, but it’s most likely regret. Why does she keep doing all these stupid things in front of Jeff? He probably thinks she’s about five years old, just that silly and uncool.
When she goes on break, she fishes her cellphone out of her purse and punches in Jeff’s number before she can think about it any more. The ring drones up against her ear, once, twice, three times, what if --
“Hey Annie,” he says. She’s probably imagining the cautious tone. “How’s it going?”
“I was a complete idiot last night. I should’ve known better than to drink like that, and I know you probably hate me and if you want I’ll quit study group and I understand if you want to ignore me from now on, but I figured I could at least call and say sorry. So, Im really, really, really sorry about last night, Jeff.” The words come out of her in a rush. Luckily no one else is in the back room. She doesn’t really need witnesses.
“I was just -- wow, you’re an angry, philosophical drunk. That’s definitely a unique combo.” His voice is softer than she would’ve expected. Maybe she can hear a smile in his voice.
“I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t be. Believe me, I once got in a drunken fight with animatronic Abe Lincoln. Try and beat that one.” It’s his normal voice and she’s so relieved she can’t help giggling a little too much at his story.
“Who won?”
“I don’t actually remember, although Disney security guards were involved, so I guess I was pretty menaching. My point is, I’m up for another dinner if you are.”
“Really? I mean, I’d love to but you don’t have to just be nice or anything.” Why is it so impolite to say just yes over and over and over?
“Annie. Think about it. This is me. Would I ask you out again just to make you feel okay?” He says ask you out like it’s nothing at all, like of course that’s what he’s doing and she holds her breath for a moment, to savor the feeling. Outside the back room there’s the buzz of customers and steaming milk, but here, there’s Jeff’s voice, nonchalantly asking her out.
“Well, then,” she says, finally, “let’s go out for dinner.”
Even Vaughn’s new song, premiered during the late shift, “Annie Was A Bitch Of Mine,” can’t wipe the grin off her face. In fact she even finds it in her heart to tap her toe along with the beat.
Her mom asks who’s been keeping her so busy and Annie somehow keps from blushing when she says it’s been friends from her Spanish study group. It’s not a lie, completely, Abed and Troy have filmed scenes for Abed’s new rom-com in some of the more secluded nooks of the coffee shop, and she and Shirley went shopping for an outfit for the blind date Shirley’s sister set up, and occasionally she even runs into Pierece at Target or an one awkward occasion, the library, but they’re not exactly taking up her free time. Not the way Jeff has for the past few weeks.
How would she explain that, though? Her mom already looks at her like she’s an alien inhabiting her daughter’s body, after the Adderall and the lost scholarship and Greendaleand the brief relationship with a hippie. Telling her about Jeff, her mother would probably expect her head to start spinning like that girl in The Excorcist. At least Abed would enjoy the reference.
“I don’t know how I feel about fireworks,” Jeff says, contemplating the night sky while he licks his ice cream cone. “But props to Greendale for celebrating the Fourth of July.”
“You should’ve seen Dean Pelton this morning. I brought him coffee when I stopped by. It was a bad idea.” Thankfully she’d been able to borrow her dad’s car for the day. The quick getaway was necessary. “But it all came out okay.” She smoothes her hand over her yawn.
Jeff turns from the fireworks to look at her. “You pulled an all-nighter, didn’t you?”
“I was at Java’s until midnight and Dean Pelton said it should only take an hour to decorate, but clearly he forgot how big the courtyard is. And the popcorn machines are heavy!”
“You should’ve called me. I could lend a strong pair of arms.” He flexes for her, winking, and it’s kinda silly but she can’t help laughing.
“At three in the morning?”
There’s the warm pressure of a hand on hers. His hand on hers.
“You’re probably the one person I’d wake up for. Just don’t make it a habit, okay?”
She would kiss him, or at least snuggle her head into the crook of his shoulder, but there’s a rustle in the bushes behind them.
“A sweet moment in the lives of that unexpected couple everybody found themselves rooting for,” Abed’s monotone explains the interruption. Jeff swats at him but he just perches on the back of their bench, filming the fireworks for posterity.
Sometimes Annie doesn’t regret coming to Greendale. Not even a little bit.
In between the soccer moms and over-dyed blonde teenagers (whom she’ll leave behind forever in a few months) Annie feels out of place on this solitary mall trip. Still, Jeff had suggested she actually spend some money and she wants to surprise him or at the very least not subject him to her fitting room paranoia. She adjusts the strap of her purse to a more comfortable spot on her shoulder.
“Annie!” She’s been so conscious of her alone-ness that she actually jumps at the sound of Britta’s voice. She manages to arrange her face into a smile as the woman appears, gorgeous in this green Indian-inspired sundress, her blonde curls making a picturesque escape from the way she’s pinned them up. If Jeff could get with someone like her, why would he ever bother with Little Annie Adderall?
“Hey, Britta!” She manages to pump some enthusiasm into her voice, but a real smile blooms on her face as a slightly scruffy man materializes at Britta’s side. “How’s your summer been?”
“Good,” she says, confirming Annie’s suspicions as she takes the man’s hand in hers. “I was in Chicago for a few weeks. I met Tom there. He plays jazz.”
“That’s great!” Now comes the awkward moment. Maybe she can stall by talking about that one time with Pierece, at the library.
“I saw you’re seeing Jeff.”
“Where?” It’s only after the word bursts from her that she realizes how relaxed Britta’s voice is, the smile on her face. She’s not about to be killed by a raging ex-girlfriend and study group member.
“Oh, you mean Abed didn’t tell you about the new movie he’s making? It figures he’d post weekly updates on Youtube about your life and not tell you. It has all these views, though.”
“Well, that’s nice, I guess.” It’s too much of a miracle for her to stick around and watch it evaporate. “It was really great running into you, Britta, but I have to run. We should grab a coffee -- I’ll make you one!”
Her shoulders slump in relief so fast that Britta probably can’t miss them, unless she’s too distracted by her cute new boyfriend. Annie should’ve asked her where in the world she’d found that dress. Then again, she probably would’ve said India.
The styrofoam cup covers his face, but Annie knows Jeff is smiling on the other side of the counter. He’d texted her a hundred times last night while she’d been at work. He was making his way through Abed’s new Youtube series: “Te Amo, Greendale”.
“Some old lady commented to say we should’ve hooked up three episodes ago. Since when do eighty-year-olds even talk like that?”
“How do you know she was eighty?” It would be cute if it were one of the regulars here.
“It says so on her Youtube profile. Her name’s Agnes.” He taps his cup on the counter, for emphasis. Luckily it’s one of her rare afternoon shifts and the shop is empty, or someone would be giving Jeff a death stare, even if they’d never met Vaughn. Coffee makes people crazy.
As if by magic, the door swings open, a camera followed by a person, and Annie thinks, what the hell, Agnes and pulls Jeff toward her for a kiss.
She’s really got to have a talk with Abed if he’s making her into a Youtube phenomenon.
They’re walking through Boulder, hand in hand, comfortably silent, and Annie concentrates on this moment because really it’s kinda perfect.
“I’m afraid of becoming Pierce,” Jeff says, out of nowhere. His voice is low and intense. She stops walking to look at him.
“Why?” There’s a question to ask and that might not be the right one. But it’s something.
“At dinner the one time,” he says, only rolling his eyes a little, “I’m not afraid of getting old. I’m afraid of getting old and being Pierce.”
She looks at him and his face is so open and a year go all she would’ve noticed was that hot Jeff Winger was looking her way but maybe a year has done her some good, even at Greendale.
“You notice things,” Annie says, finally, “and maybe it didn’t matter to you before, that you noticed, but -- remember last week when you bought my textbooks for me because you knew I was at work and I’d miss the secret one hour super sale? Pierce wouldn’t have done that.”
“Pierce isn’t dating you.” But his hand reaches up to cup her cheek.
“You have this whole second chance,” she says, somehow not saying thank god instead. “You can be Jeff Winger when you get old.”
“I bet Agnes would approve,” he says, leaning in for a kiss that’s sweeter than any debate victory or Ivy League acceptance.
At the beginning of the last week of summer, Annie gets up before sunrise as usual, and on a half-dream whim, she reaches for some hair goo when she steps out of the shower and she scrunches and crimps her hair, eyes shut with sleepiness and hope. She slips on her favorite strappy blue sundress, applies her mascara and lipgloss.
When she catches her eye in the mirror, there is something wild and sassy about the Annie Edison there reflected, something she’d always thought was just out of reach.
“Annie, come on! Jump in!” Jeff hadn’t told her they’d be sneaking into his condo’s pool tonight, which is why she’s standing on the edge of said pool, shivering a little in her underwear.
“But -- I mean, what happens to us? When classes start tomorrow? When I graduate at the end of the year? When --” It just bursts from her, she’d meant to say something about condo security and lifeguards. “Do we just disappear?”
Jeff swims over to her and places his hands on her feet.
“Well, tomorrow we can sit next to each other in Spanish 201 and you’ll probably be the only one taking notes. And after class we’ll get lunch. And later we’ll have study group. And eat dinner. Or something. We’ll figure it out.” He runs his fingers along the dips between her oes and her breath catches. “I can’t tell you about next year because we’ll figure out next year when we get to it, okay?”
“Okay.” He can always coax a smile on to her face.
“Now seriously Annie, jump in!”
When she hits the water, it spangles out from her body and it’s like the beginning of some new adventure. She stretches out her arms and the tips of her fingers brush against Jeff. They’ll figure it out.
“Annie. Think about it. This is me. Would I ask you out again just to make you feel okay?”
jeff/annie. pg-13. 3096 words.
(Thanks so much to everybody for all the lovely comments! If you missed it, you can read part one here.)
A breeze ruffles Annie’s hair as she waits for the light, but she hardly notices it. The last few days have been so fraught with drama: her breakup via telephone with Vaughn, who proceeded to defriend her on Facebook and call her all sorts of filthy things on his Twitter account, not to mention last night’s debut of the song “Annie Burns Me Like Coffee,” which she was somehow able to hear even over the roar of the espresso grinder. And there were those two calls to Jeff, post-kiss and post-breakup, where she had both times hung up, her panic making her completely forget the fact that his cell phone would make it obvious that this was Annie Edison, not some random telemarketer, calling his cell phone. And to make her life even more miserable, he hasn’t called her back in the twenty two hours since her last call, although her phone turned off in her purse last night so she can’t be entirely sure. A breeze has nothing on what’s currently bubbling inside her brain.
A horn honks, though, and Annie jolts back into the present moment, ready to give a good eye-roll to whatever creep is leering out his car window.
Instead she catches sight of a familiar manly hand, waving, attached to Jeff Winger’s body, housed inside his infamous Lexus, window gliding down to open.
“You do know you have the walk signal, right?” He’s squinting against the sunlight. “Or were you waiting forme to offer you a ride?”
Yesterday, before her second failed effort at calling him, she would’ve melted into a smile but really, twenty two hours is more than enough time to return a girl’s call. She squares her shoulders.
“I think I’ll walk,” she says, tossing the words over her shoulder like Britta would do, all coolness and determination as she makes her way across the intersection. Even the wind’s insistence on trying to flip up her skirt can’t faze her: she grabs a reassuring wad of fabric and continues on, dignity firmly intact.
Halfway down the next block she hears a car pulling over, just behind her. It’s too quiet, it must be Jeff’s car. Sure enough, after a few seconds she can hear his stride, power-walking to catch up to her -- at least, hopefully it’s Jeff, it could be some serial killer and what if he or she drags her off, it’d be terrible to die like --
“Annie, wait!” It’s Jeff’s voice and against all her very best intentions she feels her shoulders slump in relief.
“Yes, Jeff?” She turns around, cool and slow, allowing herself to smile only a little. It’s a much better option than being killed and eaten, or whatever serial killers are doing to their victims these days.
“Look, I was going to call you -- this is awkward, right?”
“Mostly because you’re staring at the sidewalk,” she says, unable to help herself. “And I probably shouldn’t have hung up before you could answer your phone.”
He looks at her then, and the lawyer front he usually makes seem so natural has slipped and it’s a transformation, he’s become someone capable of awkward, possibly even tender, moments. She smoothes her palms down the front of her skirt.
“Are you free for dinner tonight?” he says, and she sneaks a hard pinch on her thigh, just in case this happens to be a really vivid daydream.
“I have work again at six until midnight. But I’m free tomorrow?” When he’s probably going out with a swimsuit model or something.
“My dinnertime happens to be open then, too. I’ll see you then, milady?” He bends into a silly bow, with a flourishing twist of his wrist.
“Sounds like a plan, milord,” she says, dipping into her most proper curtsey.
It doesn’t occur to her until she reaches her house that they haven’t set a time or a location. It’ll work out. It’ll work out.
“You’d never believe how much coffee these little old ladies drink,” Annie says, twiddling her fingers around the stem of her wine glass. Her lipgloss has made a sticky stain along the rim. “Honestly, some of them come in three times a day! That can’t be good for them.”
“Maybe it gives them extra good luck at Bingo.” Jeff puts a piece of steak in his mouth. “What do little old ladies do, anyway? Besides coffee with their own kind.”
“I’m not sure. My grandparents died when I was little.” The words slide out easily, without any pain. Did she drink that wine too quickly? “But I guess they must do something, right?” There’s a pause. It’s not awkward, but she wants to fill it. “Are you afraid of getting old, Jeff?”
His eyes widen and it occurs to her that it may have been the wrong question but still, she wanted to know and wasn’t he training her to be a good journalist?
“Sometimes -- wait, are you drunk? Your face is all red. God Annie, how much did you drink?” That tone she hates is creeping into his voice. It’s important that she act very grown-up.
“I’m fine. Really!” She picks up her fork and spears a cherry tomato from the midst of her salad, to prove it. “You’re avoiding the question.”
“You’re, what, nineteen years old? I shouldn’t have let you order wine. They know me here, they think you’re --”
“One of your usual girls? Britta? Why’d you date her, Jeff?” Weirdly it is this question, and not the slow hazy spinning of the room, which tells Annie that after three glasses of wine she is indeed drunk.
“Annie.” Sometimes she forgets that a year ago he was a lawyer and then he uses that firm, commanding tone and everything inside her freezes, except for the room’s slow spinning. “I’m not here with Britta. I’m here with you. And people are starting to stare at us.”
“Just tell me why you dated her.” She keeps her voice low. She’s good at following rules.
“It was one of those things -- I needed to know if it would work before I could move on. But it was like, it was weird, it was like kissing my sister. She’s hot but it was weird, it was kind of gross.” He’s pulling a face. He’s telling the truth.
So she makes sure to be very prim as she places her napkin on the table and gets up from her seat, even when Jeff’s expression changes from confusion to concern.
“I don’t want to hear about you kissing someone else,” she explains, and she only wobbles a little as she walks out of the restaurant.
By the time the headache recedes, with the help of ibuprofin and three cups of coffee, Annie’s stomach clenches with regret. It could just be the coffee, but it’s most likely regret. Why does she keep doing all these stupid things in front of Jeff? He probably thinks she’s about five years old, just that silly and uncool.
When she goes on break, she fishes her cellphone out of her purse and punches in Jeff’s number before she can think about it any more. The ring drones up against her ear, once, twice, three times, what if --
“Hey Annie,” he says. She’s probably imagining the cautious tone. “How’s it going?”
“I was a complete idiot last night. I should’ve known better than to drink like that, and I know you probably hate me and if you want I’ll quit study group and I understand if you want to ignore me from now on, but I figured I could at least call and say sorry. So, Im really, really, really sorry about last night, Jeff.” The words come out of her in a rush. Luckily no one else is in the back room. She doesn’t really need witnesses.
“I was just -- wow, you’re an angry, philosophical drunk. That’s definitely a unique combo.” His voice is softer than she would’ve expected. Maybe she can hear a smile in his voice.
“I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t be. Believe me, I once got in a drunken fight with animatronic Abe Lincoln. Try and beat that one.” It’s his normal voice and she’s so relieved she can’t help giggling a little too much at his story.
“Who won?”
“I don’t actually remember, although Disney security guards were involved, so I guess I was pretty menaching. My point is, I’m up for another dinner if you are.”
“Really? I mean, I’d love to but you don’t have to just be nice or anything.” Why is it so impolite to say just yes over and over and over?
“Annie. Think about it. This is me. Would I ask you out again just to make you feel okay?” He says ask you out like it’s nothing at all, like of course that’s what he’s doing and she holds her breath for a moment, to savor the feeling. Outside the back room there’s the buzz of customers and steaming milk, but here, there’s Jeff’s voice, nonchalantly asking her out.
“Well, then,” she says, finally, “let’s go out for dinner.”
Even Vaughn’s new song, premiered during the late shift, “Annie Was A Bitch Of Mine,” can’t wipe the grin off her face. In fact she even finds it in her heart to tap her toe along with the beat.
Her mom asks who’s been keeping her so busy and Annie somehow keps from blushing when she says it’s been friends from her Spanish study group. It’s not a lie, completely, Abed and Troy have filmed scenes for Abed’s new rom-com in some of the more secluded nooks of the coffee shop, and she and Shirley went shopping for an outfit for the blind date Shirley’s sister set up, and occasionally she even runs into Pierece at Target or an one awkward occasion, the library, but they’re not exactly taking up her free time. Not the way Jeff has for the past few weeks.
How would she explain that, though? Her mom already looks at her like she’s an alien inhabiting her daughter’s body, after the Adderall and the lost scholarship and Greendaleand the brief relationship with a hippie. Telling her about Jeff, her mother would probably expect her head to start spinning like that girl in The Excorcist. At least Abed would enjoy the reference.
“I don’t know how I feel about fireworks,” Jeff says, contemplating the night sky while he licks his ice cream cone. “But props to Greendale for celebrating the Fourth of July.”
“You should’ve seen Dean Pelton this morning. I brought him coffee when I stopped by. It was a bad idea.” Thankfully she’d been able to borrow her dad’s car for the day. The quick getaway was necessary. “But it all came out okay.” She smoothes her hand over her yawn.
Jeff turns from the fireworks to look at her. “You pulled an all-nighter, didn’t you?”
“I was at Java’s until midnight and Dean Pelton said it should only take an hour to decorate, but clearly he forgot how big the courtyard is. And the popcorn machines are heavy!”
“You should’ve called me. I could lend a strong pair of arms.” He flexes for her, winking, and it’s kinda silly but she can’t help laughing.
“At three in the morning?”
There’s the warm pressure of a hand on hers. His hand on hers.
“You’re probably the one person I’d wake up for. Just don’t make it a habit, okay?”
She would kiss him, or at least snuggle her head into the crook of his shoulder, but there’s a rustle in the bushes behind them.
“A sweet moment in the lives of that unexpected couple everybody found themselves rooting for,” Abed’s monotone explains the interruption. Jeff swats at him but he just perches on the back of their bench, filming the fireworks for posterity.
Sometimes Annie doesn’t regret coming to Greendale. Not even a little bit.
In between the soccer moms and over-dyed blonde teenagers (whom she’ll leave behind forever in a few months) Annie feels out of place on this solitary mall trip. Still, Jeff had suggested she actually spend some money and she wants to surprise him or at the very least not subject him to her fitting room paranoia. She adjusts the strap of her purse to a more comfortable spot on her shoulder.
“Annie!” She’s been so conscious of her alone-ness that she actually jumps at the sound of Britta’s voice. She manages to arrange her face into a smile as the woman appears, gorgeous in this green Indian-inspired sundress, her blonde curls making a picturesque escape from the way she’s pinned them up. If Jeff could get with someone like her, why would he ever bother with Little Annie Adderall?
“Hey, Britta!” She manages to pump some enthusiasm into her voice, but a real smile blooms on her face as a slightly scruffy man materializes at Britta’s side. “How’s your summer been?”
“Good,” she says, confirming Annie’s suspicions as she takes the man’s hand in hers. “I was in Chicago for a few weeks. I met Tom there. He plays jazz.”
“That’s great!” Now comes the awkward moment. Maybe she can stall by talking about that one time with Pierece, at the library.
“I saw you’re seeing Jeff.”
“Where?” It’s only after the word bursts from her that she realizes how relaxed Britta’s voice is, the smile on her face. She’s not about to be killed by a raging ex-girlfriend and study group member.
“Oh, you mean Abed didn’t tell you about the new movie he’s making? It figures he’d post weekly updates on Youtube about your life and not tell you. It has all these views, though.”
“Well, that’s nice, I guess.” It’s too much of a miracle for her to stick around and watch it evaporate. “It was really great running into you, Britta, but I have to run. We should grab a coffee -- I’ll make you one!”
Her shoulders slump in relief so fast that Britta probably can’t miss them, unless she’s too distracted by her cute new boyfriend. Annie should’ve asked her where in the world she’d found that dress. Then again, she probably would’ve said India.
The styrofoam cup covers his face, but Annie knows Jeff is smiling on the other side of the counter. He’d texted her a hundred times last night while she’d been at work. He was making his way through Abed’s new Youtube series: “Te Amo, Greendale”.
“Some old lady commented to say we should’ve hooked up three episodes ago. Since when do eighty-year-olds even talk like that?”
“How do you know she was eighty?” It would be cute if it were one of the regulars here.
“It says so on her Youtube profile. Her name’s Agnes.” He taps his cup on the counter, for emphasis. Luckily it’s one of her rare afternoon shifts and the shop is empty, or someone would be giving Jeff a death stare, even if they’d never met Vaughn. Coffee makes people crazy.
As if by magic, the door swings open, a camera followed by a person, and Annie thinks, what the hell, Agnes and pulls Jeff toward her for a kiss.
She’s really got to have a talk with Abed if he’s making her into a Youtube phenomenon.
They’re walking through Boulder, hand in hand, comfortably silent, and Annie concentrates on this moment because really it’s kinda perfect.
“I’m afraid of becoming Pierce,” Jeff says, out of nowhere. His voice is low and intense. She stops walking to look at him.
“Why?” There’s a question to ask and that might not be the right one. But it’s something.
“At dinner the one time,” he says, only rolling his eyes a little, “I’m not afraid of getting old. I’m afraid of getting old and being Pierce.”
She looks at him and his face is so open and a year go all she would’ve noticed was that hot Jeff Winger was looking her way but maybe a year has done her some good, even at Greendale.
“You notice things,” Annie says, finally, “and maybe it didn’t matter to you before, that you noticed, but -- remember last week when you bought my textbooks for me because you knew I was at work and I’d miss the secret one hour super sale? Pierce wouldn’t have done that.”
“Pierce isn’t dating you.” But his hand reaches up to cup her cheek.
“You have this whole second chance,” she says, somehow not saying thank god instead. “You can be Jeff Winger when you get old.”
“I bet Agnes would approve,” he says, leaning in for a kiss that’s sweeter than any debate victory or Ivy League acceptance.
At the beginning of the last week of summer, Annie gets up before sunrise as usual, and on a half-dream whim, she reaches for some hair goo when she steps out of the shower and she scrunches and crimps her hair, eyes shut with sleepiness and hope. She slips on her favorite strappy blue sundress, applies her mascara and lipgloss.
When she catches her eye in the mirror, there is something wild and sassy about the Annie Edison there reflected, something she’d always thought was just out of reach.
“Annie, come on! Jump in!” Jeff hadn’t told her they’d be sneaking into his condo’s pool tonight, which is why she’s standing on the edge of said pool, shivering a little in her underwear.
“But -- I mean, what happens to us? When classes start tomorrow? When I graduate at the end of the year? When --” It just bursts from her, she’d meant to say something about condo security and lifeguards. “Do we just disappear?”
Jeff swims over to her and places his hands on her feet.
“Well, tomorrow we can sit next to each other in Spanish 201 and you’ll probably be the only one taking notes. And after class we’ll get lunch. And later we’ll have study group. And eat dinner. Or something. We’ll figure it out.” He runs his fingers along the dips between her oes and her breath catches. “I can’t tell you about next year because we’ll figure out next year when we get to it, okay?”
“Okay.” He can always coax a smile on to her face.
“Now seriously Annie, jump in!”
When she hits the water, it spangles out from her body and it’s like the beginning of some new adventure. She stretches out her arms and the tips of her fingers brush against Jeff. They’ll figure it out.