New York City in July is oppressive in a way Britta doesn’t remember, maybe because the last time she was here she was in her twenties and filled with-well, maybe not hope, but something that’s missing from her now. Sweat beads on her upper lip as she waits for her train, and her phone beeps feebly from inside her bag. She finds it amongst the scattering of pens and paper clips strewn across the bottom and clicks to find a text from Shirley with a picture attached: Hope you had a good Fourth! We miss you bunches. The picture is of the six of them, Annie waving a miniature American flag, Troy grinning widely, Pierce mid-bite into a hot dog, Shirley attempting to pull what looks like Ben’s arm into the picture, and Abed smiling slightly, his head cocked to the side. Jeff stands in the corner, staring into the camera but not making any discernible facial expression. Britta frowns at her phone and her train wheezes up to the platform.
Jeff kisses her at graduation and it’s like every romantic comedy she’s ever denied having seen. Her heart races and there’s fireworks and she feels it everywhere. When they part she doesn’t know what to say and Jeff looks at her expectantly and she can sense everyone’s eyes on her. “I got into NYU,” she blurts out. The acceptance letter has been hiding under a stack of unread newspapers for weeks now because she hasn’t figured out how to say that her deposit has been sent and a lease on an apartment in Brooklyn has been signed. “Come with me.”
She says the words before she realizes what she’s saying but suddenly she can picture it: the two of them sitting on a couch in their own place, her writing a paper and him going over case notes. She thinks of bars and clubs and museums and parks and everything she loves about New York and experiencing it all again with him.
“My old firm offered me a job,” he says. His voice is distant already and he turns around and stomps off the football field and Britta feels an ominous sense of déjà vu and Jeff Winger has walked out on her again.
She spends the train ride staring at the picture on her phone and she types out a polite reply to Shirley: Miss you guys, too. When she gets home, she opens her laptop and reads all the posts on Jeff’s Facebook wall. Most of them are invitations from Annie for group gatherings that she’s copied and pasted on each member of the study group’s walls. But there’s also pictures he’s been tagged in where he’s drinking with his new/old lawyer friends and his smiles never quite reach his eyes. Britta scrolls through all of his pictures to get to the ones from Greendale and watches their four years in reverse.
The cats are sitting on her wallet and she shoos them off ungracefully to count her credit cards. She punches in the numbers, prints out the tickets, and addresses an envelope in blue pen.
She meets him by the baggage claim and he kisses her again. “Are you done being mad at me?” she asks with a grin.
“Nah,” he says with a real smile.
Later, she sends Shirley, Annie, Abed, Troy, and Pierce a picture of Jeff sleeping, both of the cats curled up on his chest. His return ticket to Colorado sits on the nightstand, along with a round-trip for her for Labor Day weekend.
This was wonderful. As short as it was, it felt satisfying and lovely and complete. Thank you so much for writing it! I'm eager to read more J/B from you! =)
New York City in July is oppressive in a way Britta doesn’t remember, maybe because the last time she was here she was in her twenties and filled with-well, maybe not hope, but something that’s missing from her now. Sweat beads on her upper lip as she waits for her train, and her phone beeps feebly from inside her bag. She finds it amongst the scattering of pens and paper clips strewn across the bottom and clicks to find a text from Shirley with a picture attached: Hope you had a good Fourth! We miss you bunches. The picture is of the six of them, Annie waving a miniature American flag, Troy grinning widely, Pierce mid-bite into a hot dog, Shirley attempting to pull what looks like Ben’s arm into the picture, and Abed smiling slightly, his head cocked to the side. Jeff stands in the corner, staring into the camera but not making any discernible facial expression. Britta frowns at her phone and her train wheezes up to the platform.
Jeff kisses her at graduation and it’s like every romantic comedy she’s ever denied having seen. Her heart races and there’s fireworks and she feels it everywhere. When they part she doesn’t know what to say and Jeff looks at her expectantly and she can sense everyone’s eyes on her. “I got into NYU,” she blurts out. The acceptance letter has been hiding under a stack of unread newspapers for weeks now because she hasn’t figured out how to say that her deposit has been sent and a lease on an apartment in Brooklyn has been signed. “Come with me.”
She says the words before she realizes what she’s saying but suddenly she can picture it: the two of them sitting on a couch in their own place, her writing a paper and him going over case notes. She thinks of bars and clubs and museums and parks and everything she loves about New York and experiencing it all again with him.
“My old firm offered me a job,” he says. His voice is distant already and he turns around and stomps off the football field and Britta feels an ominous sense of déjà vu and Jeff Winger has walked out on her again.
She spends the train ride staring at the picture on her phone and she types out a polite reply to Shirley: Miss you guys, too. When she gets home, she opens her laptop and reads all the posts on Jeff’s Facebook wall. Most of them are invitations from Annie for group gatherings that she’s copied and pasted on each member of the study group’s walls. But there’s also pictures he’s been tagged in where he’s drinking with his new/old lawyer friends and his smiles never quite reach his eyes. Britta scrolls through all of his pictures to get to the ones from Greendale and watches their four years in reverse.
The cats are sitting on her wallet and she shoos them off ungracefully to count her credit cards. She punches in the numbers, prints out the tickets, and addresses an envelope in blue pen.
She meets him by the baggage claim and he kisses her again. “Are you done being mad at me?” she asks with a grin.
“Nah,” he says with a real smile.
Later, she sends Shirley, Annie, Abed, Troy, and Pierce a picture of Jeff sleeping, both of the cats curled up on his chest. His return ticket to Colorado sits on the nightstand, along with a round-trip for her for Labor Day weekend.
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