How Could There be No Repercussions? Jeff/Annie
How Could There be No Repercussions?
"Men are monsters who crave young flesh!"
Annie almost thinks she hasn't heard him right. Or maybe he's lost too much blood and doesn't know what he's saying. He couldn't possibly be talking about her, could he? And their kiss? That beautiful kiss that she hasn't stopped thinking about in 3 months?
"What?" she sputters out, throat already tightening with not-magical tears. Real tears. Unattractive tears. Red-faced, snot filled tears. She's never been so hurt in her life. How hard would it have been to merely say because Annie's nice and I wanted to? Or even Annie smelled really good? It didn't have to be a declaration of love, by any means, but what he did say might as well have been because she's got a nice rack.
Jeff must realize how it sounds too. He faces her. Sighs. Blood is still streaming down his face. "Annie," is all he says. As if it means something she's supposed to understand. But she's too mad to read it, too mad to care about his stupid unspoken thoughts.
Plus, the humiliation is unbearable. Why would he say that about her in front of everyone? As if she weren't good enough for him? She might have been able to take it in private (no, not really) but here in front of all her friends, she feels her face burning with shame and anger.
"Tell the truth, Jeff!" she demands, stomping her foot even as she realizes it does nothing to make her look more mature.
He stands there for a long time while everyone stares at him. The silence is so different from the usual chatter and inanity of their study sessions. She wonders if he's ever going to respond, but he just stands there for a long time. Then, finally, he sighs again, and shakes his head. There's a feeling of resolution in the movement, and he just says, "No. I can't."
She's about to ask him why not?! but he's already swept up his books with one hand and is almost running out of the room, still shaking his head as if saying to himself over and over no no no no.
The third time she misses study group, everyone tells Jeff to fix it.
Annie's at the vending machine in the hall, right outside their anthropology classroom, slamming the heel of her hand against the plastic repeatedly. Britta sees her there, on a Friday (if this conversation goes badly, they at least won't have to see each other tomorrow) and approaches slowly, trying to formulate what to say.
She settles on a simple, "Hey."
Annie jumps a bit, and then her face almost visibly shuts down. "Hey," she responds, neutrally. Britta can tell she's expecting a fight.
"No soda?" Britta asks, nodding to the machine. God, she's terrible at this small talk crap.
Annie sighs, "It's not dropping." To emphasize her point, she kicks at the machine with her tiny ballet flat. Then she just stares at the thing, her books cradled in one arm. Britta realizes Annie's only still standing there because she's too polite to walk off when she can tell Britta wants to talk.
So she gets right to it. "Look, Annie. I just wanted to apologize to you. I'm not mad."
Infuriatingly, Annie just shrugs. "Okay."
Britta keeps talking, "I know you didn't kiss Jeff to spite me or anything. If anything, it's Jeff that I'm still pissed at."
At that, Annie glances at her. Her face is still a mask of neutrality, but Britta can see a sudden interest in this subject. "Because you love him?" Annie asks.
Britta recoils, "Ew, no."
"Then why?" And there's the Annie that Britta knows - a bit whiny and shrill.
"Because he didn't know that," Britta replies, almost gleefully. She catches herself, though, when she realizes how she sounds - she knows she has to keep a lid on this overwhelmingly competitive spirit. It's really unattractive. "But honestly," she continues, hoping Annie hadn't caught her moment of immaturity, "he didn't owe me anything. I acted embarrassing." She sighs, annoyed at having to finally admit this, "And if he ran away, into someone else's arms, then that's perfectly understandable or ...something."
Annie's face shuts down again. Britta has a fleeting thought that maybe she's insulted, but what would she be insulted about?
What Annie finally responds, it's a simple, forced, "Okay."
Britta leans against the machine, "Jeff shouldn't have said what he said, but maybe what he meant is that you represent something good and pure that he wants to go back to."
"You think that's it?"
"Yeah, it's the same with you - you like him cause he represents the cool older guy that thinks you're worthy of attention."
Annie exhales evenly. This time Britta is sure she might have just insulted her. But then Annie nods. Agrees, "Right."
"Besides," Britta laughs, "It's not like you're in love with him. You aren't that stupid."
Annie stares for a long time, mouth open and eyes wide.
Then she nods again, quickly and decisively. "Right."
Britta actually hugs her, "Come back to the group."
But the humiliation is still there. Everything Jeff said, everything he did (they did) is still hanging out there in the air. The kiss, the chasing, the words.
All Annie can say is, "Maybe."
A week later, she's in the cafeteria. It's the day before Veteran's day so no one is there (4 day weekend!), and the solitude is kinda nice. The cashier is filing her nails, and there's no lunch lady today, so Annie's helping herself to a generous portion of creamy, cheesy noodles when a voice pops up besides her.
"All that mac and cheese won't make you taller."
She looks up at Jeff, a spoonful of lumpy stuff suspended in the air above her plate. Her look must convey a pretty clear wha? because he smiles deprecatingly at himself and says, "Maybe you have to be on the tall side of that joke to think it's funny."
Yeah, she's not so sure about that. But worst than the joke is the strangeness of him talking to her. He had tried so hard to brush her off - literally, almost, like she was some parasite that had attached itself to his neck - so it's hard to get why he's here at her side. Couldn't the man make up his mind?
"What do you want, Jeff?"
He pauses for a beat or two. Then, "To apologize."
She glances over at him. He's scruffy today - when did that happen? And why does he wait til she's gone to go all ultra-sexy, dangit?! - and he's wearing one of his nice button down shirts and expensive jeans. He has a tray with two cookies on it and that's it.
"For what?" she asks.
He gazes down at the meatballs like they're the most interesting thing he has ever seen, though he makes no move to get any. She reaches over him and picks up the ladle, though she doesn't really want any. When her arm brushes against his, he shifts away from her.
It kinda pisses her off.
Finally, he admits, "For saying you were just young flesh."
"But I am?" she pushes. God, she just needs him to say something nice. Is it so bad that she wants someone to say something nice to her for once?
"Annie-" he starts, then cuts himself off, "No. You know that you're not."
She puts down the meatball ladle a bit forcefully. It falls with a loud clang over onto the partition between the food trays. "Then why did you say it?
He turns to her, his face taking on that Jeff's been pushed to his crazy limit expression and he hisses, "What am I supposed to say? That I like you? Annie, you're 19.
"So?" She knows that how whiny her voice sounds does nothing to make him change his mind. It takes everything in her power not to stomp her foot or bounce sulkily.
He shakes his head again, the same way he did in the study room - nose all bloody and books in disarray - and says, almost to himself, "No. No. I'm not." She knows what he means. I'm not going to be with you. Ever.
"What's your problem, Jeff? Do you try to be this much of jerk?"
"No," he almost yells, "That's just it. I don't try. I AM a jerk, Annie. And you're 19." He sighs. A long pause. And then a resigned, "I'm a bad person."
"No, you-" Annie start to protest.
"I am," he interrupts, "I'm getting better, but I will never be able to undo all the things I've done. I'm a liar and a manwhore and I. Am. Not. A. Good. Guy."
She doesn't know how to argue with this. She doesn't think it's true, not at all - and no, she's not just young and stupid and naive - but she can tell that nothing is going to convince Jeff otherwise. So she resorts to a weak, "So?"
His jaw clenches, as if he's restraining some great emotion. "Find yourself a good guy," he tells her, with a tone of finality.
Well, that's not going to happen. She doesn't want a good guy - at least not in the sense that Jeff means. She doesn't want some pasty faced little boy who's never kissed a girl, who plays video games or skateboards or speaks in some slang she doesn't understand. She wants ...Jeff. Only Jeff. And if she can't have him, fine. But don't tell her what she should want, thank you very much. And don't leave her without at least telling her the one thing that could make her feel better.
Which is, "But how do you feel?'
He looks up at the ceiling, but he doesn't seem exasperated. He's thinking, she can tell. Actually taking the time to formulate his thoughts instead of just blurting out the first witty or snarky one-liner that pops into his head. Finally he says, "Like someone who could hurt you really bad ... What else do you want from me, Annie?"
"I want to know I mean something to you. I want to think I wasn't just something to distract you."
She start to pick up another spoonful of mac and cheese, adding to her already overflowing plate, but he grabs her hand and pushes it back down. His skin against hers make her fingers and palm tingle like her flesh is just waking up. Her cheeks grow warm, her neck, and chest. She hopes he doesn't notice.
Once he's wrestled the thing from her, putting it back in the tray like it's some drug she shouldn't be touching, he rubs a hand over his face and tells her, "When I was 23, there was a girl I dated for almost a year." He takes a deep breath. "I loved being around her, I loved the way she spoke, how she moved, the fact that she didn't take any of my crap. And since her, since she left, I haven't felt like that about anyone." She hears the unspoken words there even Britta but she's glad he doesn't feel the need to say them out loud. "I feel a little like that when I'm around you," he admits, and it makes Annie's heart jump up into her throat. But then he says, "And I don't want to ruin it." A sigh. Then he repeats, once again, "You're 19."
She sighs. Stares forlornly at her plate, suddenly not at all hungry for any of it. Stupid Jeff Winger, ruining her appetite for artery clogging food.
"Jeff... All the time I was in high school, I worked so hard to fix the things wrong with me, all the things that kept the guys from paying attention to little Annie Adderal." She doesn't know why she's telling him this - her pathetic life story - but she continues, "And they were things I did to myself - I was anal and addicted to drugs and ugly - the braces alone could have turned a guy gay." She doesn't add and I think they actually did, cause that's too pathetic to ever admit to someone like Jeff. "And," she continues, "here I finally feel like I've gotten a handle on those things. And then I meet you and the one thing I can't - no matter how hard I work - fix about myself, you use as the reason we can't be together. My age. Geez, Jeff, why can't you just say you think I'm too short? Huh, I could throw on some heels and be done with it. What am I supposed to do about my age? Which is 20, by the way, thanks for keeping up."
"Annie. It's not your age, only."
"If I wasn't 20, if I was 30, would there be a problem?"
"Yes."
She almost bursts into tears despite her efforts to stay angry (angry is more mature, right?). It was the last thing she wanted to hear. She starts to turn away, tray forgotten, but catches her by her backpack and pulls her back effortlessly.
"No, Annie, listen. There's a problem with me." He looks her dead in the eye, serious. "Find yourself a nice guy, Annie."
And she wants to tell him to shut up, to stop telling her what to do or trying to make life choices for her, but his words are pleading, almost desperate, as if her disinterest could save him from something he can't pull himself out from (but needs to so so so much), and so she just sighs and takes a moment to control her breathing.
"Look," she starts, determined to be reasonable about this, "I don't know how we got here, Jeff, to this weird point, but I wish we could just be friends like we were before." No she doesn't. What she wants is nothing like friends. Nothing.
But Jeff seems to like that idea. Looks relieved. "We can."
"Can we?"
"Yes. Just - first, come back to study group. We all miss you." He nudges her. "I miss you."
"I don't want it to be . . .awkward."
He smiles cockily, "Awkward is what we do!" Nudges her again. "Listen, c'mon, it'll be fine. We just have to get back into a groove."
She stares at her mac and cheese.
"Alright," she finally agrees. "Friends?"
He smiles broadly, like a little boy just given the thing on the top of his Christmas wish list. "Friends."
He leans over and actually hugs her, as if that shows that it doesn't have to be awkward. And it's not - not like all the other times. This time they hold on tightly, and she feels her chest relax, her body melt into him, and she closes her eyes against the soft press of his shirt in her cheek, the heat of his chest beneath that -which she can feel, somehow. She feels his breath exhale across the top of her head, in one long rush, and feels his own body lean into hers, as if clutching at her, and she knows he's feeling it too. That thing that they both won't speak of again.
They're still hugging when they hear a high pitched oh, that's nice! screaming towards them, and then Shirley is hugging them both and Abed is talking about how the dynamic is going to be back to normal if this were a show Annie's prolonged absence would have caused a major ratings drop that we could never have bounced back, Troy and Pierce are eating from Annie's plate of mac and cheese, and Britta is standing to the side, smiling uncomfortably. Annie wonders how long they were sitting there in the booth, watching them. It makes her uncomfortable, even as she smiles brightly and tries to pretend like everything is fine and oh, it was such a silly thing to get upset over! and that nothing has to be any different now, even though her and Jeff had kissed and then argued, and even though one of them had been assaulted in the process, and even though Annie hadn't been to study group in 2 weeks. But, yep, everything was a-okay!!!!
She doesn't get her appetite back.
A month later, everything's fallen back into place. But one day when Shirley asks Annie about her new boyfriend, Jeff's head jerks up from his phone.
"Boyfriend?"
"Oh, yes," Shirley exclaims, "Ann-ie has a new beau, but she won't tell us who he is."
Jeff frowns, "Really? Who's the guy?"
Annie looks uncomfortable - even more so than normal. It's obvious right away that there's some reason besides coyness that keeps Annie from telling them anything. She glances at each person at the table, except Jeff, who she avoids altogether.
Finally, she says, huffily, "Fine. Yes, I've been seeing someone. But it's not serious at all and I don't want you guys making a big deal about this."
"Who's the guy?" Jeff repeats, slowly.
She wants to ask what do you care? but she knows it will come out extra pissy and she doesn't want everyone wondering why, so she shrugs and says, "Professor Laurent."
Jeff gapes. "The history guy?" he chokes out.
She smiles, bounces a bit in her seat, "Yes!"
Shirley's smile has fallen a bit. "You're dating Professor Laurent?"
"Yes," Annie repeats, though their lack of enthusiasm has deflated some of her excitement.
"He's 40," Jeff says, quietly, almost as if....no. He can't be mad, can he?
" know you like younger men, Jeff," Pierce pipes up, "but really, let the girls have some every one in awhile".
Jeff slams down his phone, "First, shut up, Pierce. Second," he turns to Annie, forehead all wrinkly with those peculiar Winger frown lines, "why would you date him?
"He's nice."
"But he's 40," Jeff nearly spits out at her. Oh, yeah, he's mad. Why?
"He's not 40. He's 36. And what's wrong with you?"
"I just wonder why you make such bad decisions."
Abed and Troy mutter a knowing, "Uh-oh" in perfect unison, and Britta just reaches over and slaps at Jeff's arm. But Jeff doesn't notice. He keeps glaring at Annie.
She sticks out her chin, trying to be formidable, which is actually pretty easy considering how furious she is with him at the moment, "Stop being such a jerk. You told me to find a nice guy."
"I meant a nice guy your age," he says through clenched teeth.
She slams her book closed. "Stop telling me what to do!"
"I'm not telling you what to do. I'm not your-"
"What?" she cuts him off, eyes going intense and wild, ""My daddy? Are you sure? Is there any other parts of my life you'd like to butt into, daddy?" She puts as much faux little girl innocence into the last word, but it comes out more suggestive than she meant for it to.
Pierce's eyes go wide, "Whoa."
Jeff breaths through his nose, like a bull ready to charge. When he speaks, his voice has been forced to evenness. "Stop calling me that."
"Why?" she presses, voice still ringing out in a mocking falsetto, "You don't like it, daddy?"
"You can call me daddy!" There's Pierce again.
"Shut up, Pierce!" Jeff yells, almost half out of his seat. He turns to Annie, still fuming, "I'm not old enough to be your father!"
She up out of her seat too, in his face, "Then stop acting like it!"
"Stop acting like a child!"
"God, you're such a- a ...ugh!" she pushes her books into her backpack, eyes ablaze with anger and hurt and a few other feelings she hasn't sorted out yet. She wants to call him a bad word, but she still can't bring herself to say anything like that, so she settles on a venomous, if not childish, "You're such a butt." And then she storms out of the room without looking back.
"Men are monsters who crave young flesh!"
Annie almost thinks she hasn't heard him right. Or maybe he's lost too much blood and doesn't know what he's saying. He couldn't possibly be talking about her, could he? And their kiss? That beautiful kiss that she hasn't stopped thinking about in 3 months?
"What?" she sputters out, throat already tightening with not-magical tears. Real tears. Unattractive tears. Red-faced, snot filled tears. She's never been so hurt in her life. How hard would it have been to merely say because Annie's nice and I wanted to? Or even Annie smelled really good? It didn't have to be a declaration of love, by any means, but what he did say might as well have been because she's got a nice rack.
Jeff must realize how it sounds too. He faces her. Sighs. Blood is still streaming down his face. "Annie," is all he says. As if it means something she's supposed to understand. But she's too mad to read it, too mad to care about his stupid unspoken thoughts.
Plus, the humiliation is unbearable. Why would he say that about her in front of everyone? As if she weren't good enough for him? She might have been able to take it in private (no, not really) but here in front of all her friends, she feels her face burning with shame and anger.
"Tell the truth, Jeff!" she demands, stomping her foot even as she realizes it does nothing to make her look more mature.
He stands there for a long time while everyone stares at him. The silence is so different from the usual chatter and inanity of their study sessions. She wonders if he's ever going to respond, but he just stands there for a long time. Then, finally, he sighs again, and shakes his head. There's a feeling of resolution in the movement, and he just says, "No. I can't."
She's about to ask him why not?! but he's already swept up his books with one hand and is almost running out of the room, still shaking his head as if saying to himself over and over no no no no.
The third time she misses study group, everyone tells Jeff to fix it.
Annie's at the vending machine in the hall, right outside their anthropology classroom, slamming the heel of her hand against the plastic repeatedly. Britta sees her there, on a Friday (if this conversation goes badly, they at least won't have to see each other tomorrow) and approaches slowly, trying to formulate what to say.
She settles on a simple, "Hey."
Annie jumps a bit, and then her face almost visibly shuts down. "Hey," she responds, neutrally. Britta can tell she's expecting a fight.
"No soda?" Britta asks, nodding to the machine. God, she's terrible at this small talk crap.
Annie sighs, "It's not dropping." To emphasize her point, she kicks at the machine with her tiny ballet flat. Then she just stares at the thing, her books cradled in one arm. Britta realizes Annie's only still standing there because she's too polite to walk off when she can tell Britta wants to talk.
So she gets right to it. "Look, Annie. I just wanted to apologize to you. I'm not mad."
Infuriatingly, Annie just shrugs. "Okay."
Britta keeps talking, "I know you didn't kiss Jeff to spite me or anything. If anything, it's Jeff that I'm still pissed at."
At that, Annie glances at her. Her face is still a mask of neutrality, but Britta can see a sudden interest in this subject. "Because you love him?" Annie asks.
Britta recoils, "Ew, no."
"Then why?" And there's the Annie that Britta knows - a bit whiny and shrill.
"Because he didn't know that," Britta replies, almost gleefully. She catches herself, though, when she realizes how she sounds - she knows she has to keep a lid on this overwhelmingly competitive spirit. It's really unattractive. "But honestly," she continues, hoping Annie hadn't caught her moment of immaturity, "he didn't owe me anything. I acted embarrassing." She sighs, annoyed at having to finally admit this, "And if he ran away, into someone else's arms, then that's perfectly understandable or ...something."
Annie's face shuts down again. Britta has a fleeting thought that maybe she's insulted, but what would she be insulted about?
What Annie finally responds, it's a simple, forced, "Okay."
Britta leans against the machine, "Jeff shouldn't have said what he said, but maybe what he meant is that you represent something good and pure that he wants to go back to."
"You think that's it?"
"Yeah, it's the same with you - you like him cause he represents the cool older guy that thinks you're worthy of attention."
Annie exhales evenly. This time Britta is sure she might have just insulted her. But then Annie nods. Agrees, "Right."
"Besides," Britta laughs, "It's not like you're in love with him. You aren't that stupid."
Annie stares for a long time, mouth open and eyes wide.
Then she nods again, quickly and decisively. "Right."
Britta actually hugs her, "Come back to the group."
But the humiliation is still there. Everything Jeff said, everything he did (they did) is still hanging out there in the air. The kiss, the chasing, the words.
All Annie can say is, "Maybe."
A week later, she's in the cafeteria. It's the day before Veteran's day so no one is there (4 day weekend!), and the solitude is kinda nice. The cashier is filing her nails, and there's no lunch lady today, so Annie's helping herself to a generous portion of creamy, cheesy noodles when a voice pops up besides her.
"All that mac and cheese won't make you taller."
She looks up at Jeff, a spoonful of lumpy stuff suspended in the air above her plate. Her look must convey a pretty clear wha? because he smiles deprecatingly at himself and says, "Maybe you have to be on the tall side of that joke to think it's funny."
Yeah, she's not so sure about that. But worst than the joke is the strangeness of him talking to her. He had tried so hard to brush her off - literally, almost, like she was some parasite that had attached itself to his neck - so it's hard to get why he's here at her side. Couldn't the man make up his mind?
"What do you want, Jeff?"
He pauses for a beat or two. Then, "To apologize."
She glances over at him. He's scruffy today - when did that happen? And why does he wait til she's gone to go all ultra-sexy, dangit?! - and he's wearing one of his nice button down shirts and expensive jeans. He has a tray with two cookies on it and that's it.
"For what?" she asks.
He gazes down at the meatballs like they're the most interesting thing he has ever seen, though he makes no move to get any. She reaches over him and picks up the ladle, though she doesn't really want any. When her arm brushes against his, he shifts away from her.
It kinda pisses her off.
Finally, he admits, "For saying you were just young flesh."
"But I am?" she pushes. God, she just needs him to say something nice. Is it so bad that she wants someone to say something nice to her for once?
"Annie-" he starts, then cuts himself off, "No. You know that you're not."
She puts down the meatball ladle a bit forcefully. It falls with a loud clang over onto the partition between the food trays. "Then why did you say it?
He turns to her, his face taking on that Jeff's been pushed to his crazy limit expression and he hisses, "What am I supposed to say? That I like you? Annie, you're 19.
"So?" She knows that how whiny her voice sounds does nothing to make him change his mind. It takes everything in her power not to stomp her foot or bounce sulkily.
He shakes his head again, the same way he did in the study room - nose all bloody and books in disarray - and says, almost to himself, "No. No. I'm not." She knows what he means. I'm not going to be with you. Ever.
"What's your problem, Jeff? Do you try to be this much of jerk?"
"No," he almost yells, "That's just it. I don't try. I AM a jerk, Annie. And you're 19." He sighs. A long pause. And then a resigned, "I'm a bad person."
"No, you-" Annie start to protest.
"I am," he interrupts, "I'm getting better, but I will never be able to undo all the things I've done. I'm a liar and a manwhore and I. Am. Not. A. Good. Guy."
She doesn't know how to argue with this. She doesn't think it's true, not at all - and no, she's not just young and stupid and naive - but she can tell that nothing is going to convince Jeff otherwise. So she resorts to a weak, "So?"
His jaw clenches, as if he's restraining some great emotion. "Find yourself a good guy," he tells her, with a tone of finality.
Well, that's not going to happen. She doesn't want a good guy - at least not in the sense that Jeff means. She doesn't want some pasty faced little boy who's never kissed a girl, who plays video games or skateboards or speaks in some slang she doesn't understand. She wants ...Jeff. Only Jeff. And if she can't have him, fine. But don't tell her what she should want, thank you very much. And don't leave her without at least telling her the one thing that could make her feel better.
Which is, "But how do you feel?'
He looks up at the ceiling, but he doesn't seem exasperated. He's thinking, she can tell. Actually taking the time to formulate his thoughts instead of just blurting out the first witty or snarky one-liner that pops into his head. Finally he says, "Like someone who could hurt you really bad ... What else do you want from me, Annie?"
"I want to know I mean something to you. I want to think I wasn't just something to distract you."
She start to pick up another spoonful of mac and cheese, adding to her already overflowing plate, but he grabs her hand and pushes it back down. His skin against hers make her fingers and palm tingle like her flesh is just waking up. Her cheeks grow warm, her neck, and chest. She hopes he doesn't notice.
Once he's wrestled the thing from her, putting it back in the tray like it's some drug she shouldn't be touching, he rubs a hand over his face and tells her, "When I was 23, there was a girl I dated for almost a year." He takes a deep breath. "I loved being around her, I loved the way she spoke, how she moved, the fact that she didn't take any of my crap. And since her, since she left, I haven't felt like that about anyone." She hears the unspoken words there even Britta but she's glad he doesn't feel the need to say them out loud. "I feel a little like that when I'm around you," he admits, and it makes Annie's heart jump up into her throat. But then he says, "And I don't want to ruin it." A sigh. Then he repeats, once again, "You're 19."
She sighs. Stares forlornly at her plate, suddenly not at all hungry for any of it. Stupid Jeff Winger, ruining her appetite for artery clogging food.
"Jeff... All the time I was in high school, I worked so hard to fix the things wrong with me, all the things that kept the guys from paying attention to little Annie Adderal." She doesn't know why she's telling him this - her pathetic life story - but she continues, "And they were things I did to myself - I was anal and addicted to drugs and ugly - the braces alone could have turned a guy gay." She doesn't add and I think they actually did, cause that's too pathetic to ever admit to someone like Jeff. "And," she continues, "here I finally feel like I've gotten a handle on those things. And then I meet you and the one thing I can't - no matter how hard I work - fix about myself, you use as the reason we can't be together. My age. Geez, Jeff, why can't you just say you think I'm too short? Huh, I could throw on some heels and be done with it. What am I supposed to do about my age? Which is 20, by the way, thanks for keeping up."
"Annie. It's not your age, only."
"If I wasn't 20, if I was 30, would there be a problem?"
"Yes."
She almost bursts into tears despite her efforts to stay angry (angry is more mature, right?). It was the last thing she wanted to hear. She starts to turn away, tray forgotten, but catches her by her backpack and pulls her back effortlessly.
"No, Annie, listen. There's a problem with me." He looks her dead in the eye, serious. "Find yourself a nice guy, Annie."
And she wants to tell him to shut up, to stop telling her what to do or trying to make life choices for her, but his words are pleading, almost desperate, as if her disinterest could save him from something he can't pull himself out from (but needs to so so so much), and so she just sighs and takes a moment to control her breathing.
"Look," she starts, determined to be reasonable about this, "I don't know how we got here, Jeff, to this weird point, but I wish we could just be friends like we were before." No she doesn't. What she wants is nothing like friends. Nothing.
But Jeff seems to like that idea. Looks relieved. "We can."
"Can we?"
"Yes. Just - first, come back to study group. We all miss you." He nudges her. "I miss you."
"I don't want it to be . . .awkward."
He smiles cockily, "Awkward is what we do!" Nudges her again. "Listen, c'mon, it'll be fine. We just have to get back into a groove."
She stares at her mac and cheese.
"Alright," she finally agrees. "Friends?"
He smiles broadly, like a little boy just given the thing on the top of his Christmas wish list. "Friends."
He leans over and actually hugs her, as if that shows that it doesn't have to be awkward. And it's not - not like all the other times. This time they hold on tightly, and she feels her chest relax, her body melt into him, and she closes her eyes against the soft press of his shirt in her cheek, the heat of his chest beneath that -which she can feel, somehow. She feels his breath exhale across the top of her head, in one long rush, and feels his own body lean into hers, as if clutching at her, and she knows he's feeling it too. That thing that they both won't speak of again.
They're still hugging when they hear a high pitched oh, that's nice! screaming towards them, and then Shirley is hugging them both and Abed is talking about how the dynamic is going to be back to normal if this were a show Annie's prolonged absence would have caused a major ratings drop that we could never have bounced back, Troy and Pierce are eating from Annie's plate of mac and cheese, and Britta is standing to the side, smiling uncomfortably. Annie wonders how long they were sitting there in the booth, watching them. It makes her uncomfortable, even as she smiles brightly and tries to pretend like everything is fine and oh, it was such a silly thing to get upset over! and that nothing has to be any different now, even though her and Jeff had kissed and then argued, and even though one of them had been assaulted in the process, and even though Annie hadn't been to study group in 2 weeks. But, yep, everything was a-okay!!!!
She doesn't get her appetite back.
A month later, everything's fallen back into place. But one day when Shirley asks Annie about her new boyfriend, Jeff's head jerks up from his phone.
"Boyfriend?"
"Oh, yes," Shirley exclaims, "Ann-ie has a new beau, but she won't tell us who he is."
Jeff frowns, "Really? Who's the guy?"
Annie looks uncomfortable - even more so than normal. It's obvious right away that there's some reason besides coyness that keeps Annie from telling them anything. She glances at each person at the table, except Jeff, who she avoids altogether.
Finally, she says, huffily, "Fine. Yes, I've been seeing someone. But it's not serious at all and I don't want you guys making a big deal about this."
"Who's the guy?" Jeff repeats, slowly.
She wants to ask what do you care? but she knows it will come out extra pissy and she doesn't want everyone wondering why, so she shrugs and says, "Professor Laurent."
Jeff gapes. "The history guy?" he chokes out.
She smiles, bounces a bit in her seat, "Yes!"
Shirley's smile has fallen a bit. "You're dating Professor Laurent?"
"Yes," Annie repeats, though their lack of enthusiasm has deflated some of her excitement.
"He's 40," Jeff says, quietly, almost as if....no. He can't be mad, can he?
" know you like younger men, Jeff," Pierce pipes up, "but really, let the girls have some every one in awhile".
Jeff slams down his phone, "First, shut up, Pierce. Second," he turns to Annie, forehead all wrinkly with those peculiar Winger frown lines, "why would you date him?
"He's nice."
"But he's 40," Jeff nearly spits out at her. Oh, yeah, he's mad. Why?
"He's not 40. He's 36. And what's wrong with you?"
"I just wonder why you make such bad decisions."
Abed and Troy mutter a knowing, "Uh-oh" in perfect unison, and Britta just reaches over and slaps at Jeff's arm. But Jeff doesn't notice. He keeps glaring at Annie.
She sticks out her chin, trying to be formidable, which is actually pretty easy considering how furious she is with him at the moment, "Stop being such a jerk. You told me to find a nice guy."
"I meant a nice guy your age," he says through clenched teeth.
She slams her book closed. "Stop telling me what to do!"
"I'm not telling you what to do. I'm not your-"
"What?" she cuts him off, eyes going intense and wild, ""My daddy? Are you sure? Is there any other parts of my life you'd like to butt into, daddy?" She puts as much faux little girl innocence into the last word, but it comes out more suggestive than she meant for it to.
Pierce's eyes go wide, "Whoa."
Jeff breaths through his nose, like a bull ready to charge. When he speaks, his voice has been forced to evenness. "Stop calling me that."
"Why?" she presses, voice still ringing out in a mocking falsetto, "You don't like it, daddy?"
"You can call me daddy!" There's Pierce again.
"Shut up, Pierce!" Jeff yells, almost half out of his seat. He turns to Annie, still fuming, "I'm not old enough to be your father!"
She up out of her seat too, in his face, "Then stop acting like it!"
"Stop acting like a child!"
"God, you're such a- a ...ugh!" she pushes her books into her backpack, eyes ablaze with anger and hurt and a few other feelings she hasn't sorted out yet. She wants to call him a bad word, but she still can't bring herself to say anything like that, so she settles on a venomous, if not childish, "You're such a butt." And then she storms out of the room without looking back.