Awkward Spaces Between | Community | Jeff/Britta
Awkward Spaces Between
Jeff/Britta
~5,100 words
Britta spends money she doesn't have on a plane ticket and flies home for the first time in four years.
Since they didn’t all graduate at the same time, Annie decides that the reunion will be celebrating five years since the start of their final year together at Greendale. The logic is kind of unsound for Annie, but Britta can’t ignore the barrage of emails and phone calls and texts she gets from Annie and Shirley asking if she’s booked her flight yet, so she spends money she doesn’t have on a plane ticket and flies home for the first time in over four years.
The reunion is in the study room at Greendale-Shirley mentioned something about them having to keep quiet and clean up after themselves, which makes Britta think Dean Pelton hasn’t changed much in her time away-and catered by Shirley’s Sandwiches, which now has three locations outside the one in the Greendale cafeteria. Britta is consistently amazed and impressed at how quickly Shirley found such success. She’s looking forward to visiting each shop and reuniting her mouth with Shirley’s brownies, which don’t taste the same when stuck in a box and shipped to San Francisco.
She spends the flight typing up a lab report she has due when she gets back and trying not to be nervous. It’s not a very long flight to begin with, but it feels too quick because before she knows it, she’s picking up her rental car in Denver and driving toward Greendale. She listens to NPR on the way there, the volume low, the calming voices contrasting with her speeding heart rate. She pulls off the exit although the urge to keep driving is great, but she takes the long way around town, driving past her old apartment and The Red Door and The Greasy Fork and other places where she used to live her life. They look the same but smaller somehow, as if they’ve shrunk or they’re just not as big as she remembers them, as they used to be to her.
Greendale looks the same, though, the leaves on the trees starting to turn red and gold. It’s suddenly strange to be on a campus that isn’t Berkeley, and she realizes that she’s been at Berkeley for almost the same amount of time she was at Greendale, and eventually her time at Berkeley will be longer than her time at Greendale. It was such a big part of her life, maybe the most important part, and in the grand scheme of things, four years isn’t a long time at all for something so significant.
There is a smattering of cars in the parking lot: Britta doesn’t recognize any of them, and that makes her a little sad. She misses Shirley’s old van, Annie’s beat-up clunker, even the used station wagon Troy inherited from his dad. Britta realizes exactly how much time has gone by since she’s seen her friends, and the fear and anxiety in her stomach turns to a flutter of longing and excitement. She parks next to a blue car and when she gets out, she does a double-take because in the row in front of her there’s Jeff’s Lexus, only... it’s not. It’s newer, shinier, and-she notices when she peers through the windows-has beautiful leather interior and is missing all of the dings and imperfections of the older model. He must be doing pretty well for himself, Britta thinks, because this car looks expensive. She wouldn’t know.
Inside, Britta lets out a breath because the library is so warm and familiar. She spent most of her waking moments here, studying or goofing off or curled up on the couch to nap during that last semester when she was working her ass off to get her grades up and taking extra classes so she could graduate on time. It wasn’t just her home away from home, it was her actual home, because she sure as hell spent more time in the study room than she did in her own bedroom.
“Britta!”
She looks up and Annie’s head is popping out of the study room, a grin on her face. She runs up to Britta and throws her arms around her. “I can’t believe you’re here!”
Britta pats Annie’s back and squeezes just as hard. “I can’t either, to be honest.”
Annie pulls away and Britta is immediately swept into Shirley’s embrace. “Pumpkin!”
It’s a confusing couple of minutes as Britta is shuffled around from person to person: Pierce gives her a surprisingly warm hug and whispers in her ear that he’s sort of missed her, Abed smiles and holds her close for a few seconds as she leans into him, Troy-who Britta secretly believes to be the best hugger in the world, hands down-gathers her in his arms and kisses her cheek and Britta feels sad for a minute because in all this time she’s never allowed herself to miss him the way she should have.
Troy lets her go and Britta turns around, only to smack right into something solid and warm and smelling like expensive cologne. She looks up and there he is, towering over her like always, a sheepish and unsure expression on her face.
“Hey,” Jeff says, and it’s hesitant, almost a question, like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to speak to her.
“Hi,” she says. She can sense the group around them tense up and out of the corner of her eye, she sees Annie exchange a look with Abed and Troy.
He looks... well, he looks good. There are a few more lines in his face, mostly around his eyes, and Britta can spot a couple gray hairs in his sideburns, but he’s still Jeff, he’s still the handsome jerk he’s always been. Britta wonders if she looks different to him; her hair is much longer because she hasn’t had time for a haircut, but she’s wearing jeans and a leather jacket and boots. She doesn’t think she looks older-for all her mother lectured her about things like night cream and cleansers, she had actually been right-but maybe four years of all-nighters and tests and field work have taken their toll on her.
“Should we... go eat?” Annie asks.
Britta realizes she’s been staring at Jeff for probably a good ninety seconds now and turns to Annie and smiles. “I’m starving.”
“I made veggie wraps for you! Extra hummus!” Shirley says, hooking her arm through Britta’s and leading them all into the study room.
It’s weird, because they settle into their same seats, the same formation, and the axe marks are still on the table, along with Abed’s notches (and probably Jeff’s and Troy’s, if Britta looked). Britta wonders who uses this room now, if there’s a new study group at Greendale who hogs the room and takes up most of the Dean’s time and energy. She wonders who sits in her seat, who gives the speeches, who keeps them on track. Who has sex on the table in the middle of the night.
“This is good,” Abed says and Britta’s attention snaps back to the present. “Britta, you’re our outsider now. You have to tell us about your adventures.”
Britta rolls her eyes. “I don’t have any adventures. I’d rather hear about you guys anyway.”
Shirley pauses from handing out sandwiches. “My older boys are all grown up now! I have pictures on my phone, do you want to see?”
“Well, Britta,” Pierce begins as Shirley digs her phone out of her bag, “since you left I’ve been on six different missions for my temple and I’ve ascended to a Level Six Laser Lotus. For real this time! I’m spreading the good word of Buddha.”
“Are you, though?” Jeff asks, voice up a register. Britta starts, because she’s not expecting to hear him. Her body is turned almost totally to the right; it’s easier to avoid accidentally making eye contact with him by taking that option completely out of play.
“Be nice, Jeffrey,” Shirley admonishes. She passes the phone to Britta, who scrolls through the pictures, unbelieving that these are the same kids she saw four years ago at graduation.
She smiles at a picture of Elijah carrying Ben around on piggyback and leans over so Abed can see the pictures. “These are great, Shirley.”
“Ben was in my class last year,” Troy says. “He’s definitely smarter than all the other kids, and I’m not just saying that.”
Shirley preens. “You’re sweet, pumpkin. Ben loved kindergarten.”
“I can’t believe he’s six already,” Britta says. “And Jordan’s a senior?”
“Yes, and Elijah’s away at UC Boulder.”
“Elijah took my film class his senior year,” Abed says. “He was really good at it.”
“I think it’s so funny that you both taught two of Shirley’s kids,” Annie says as Britta passes her the phone so she can see the pictures. “It’s like everything has come full circle.”
“I can’t believe the state of Colorado gave you both licenses to teach,” Jeff drawls. Britta sneaks a look to her left and he’s on his phone, slumped in the chair, and her heart clenches a bit because suddenly it’s like they never left.
“Maybe I should become a teacher,” Pierce says. “It might be a good way to share my wealth of knowledge with young people.”
“No!” the six of them exclaim once. Annie catches Britta’s eye and the two of them burst into giggles.
Shirley continues handing out sandwiches and they pass around salads and sodas. The group chatters on about what they’ve been doing and things coming up for them: Annie recently put in for a promotion at a larger lab with the Denver Police Department, Pierce is flying to Orlando for a conference next week, Troy and Abed talk about some of their students, and Shirley gives updates on Elijah’s first month in college. Britta sits back and listens, doesn’t feel like adding in about nonstop work she has to do to keep up, about how she’s constantly afraid of falling behind, about how even after all this time, after being almost finished with the program, she still feels too small and too out of her element.
Jeff doesn’t say anything either, just listens and eats. He’s uncharacteristically quiet and the whole room feels off-balance without his interruptions or quips. Britta nods and smiles in all the right places, but she can’t help but keep glancing out of the corner of her eye; he picks up his phone every once in a while and she won’t let herself look at his face but his thumb scrolls through and she wonders, like she always used to, what-if anything-is capturing his attention.
I don’t know what I did to you, but you’re being an asshole by ignoring me, said the last text she sent to him. He’d been silent for her first two weeks at Berkeley, a silence she couldn’t seem to figure out nor get anyone else to explain to her. She woke up that last morning in her Greendale apartment expecting to find him sleeping next to her but instead all she found was empty space and no tangible evidence outside of a condom wrapper that they had ever even had sex after her going-away party. Britta had woken up alone many times after sex, even with Jeff in the beginning, but she hadn’t expected how much it would sting when she realized that Jeff, of all people, after all they had been through, had walked out on her in the middle of the night without a word.
“The cake’s in the fridge at the sandwich shop,” Shirley says. “I’ll run over and get it really quick.”
“Oh, Shirley, let me,” Britta volunteers, standing up. “I want to see the renovations you made.”
“Okay! Jeffrey, go with her and help. Grab the plates and forks off the counter.”
Everyone goes quiet. Troy pushes his chair back, “No, I’ll go with you, Britta.” She throws a grateful look Troy’s way but Shirley shakes her head.
“Troy, I need you to help me clear this mess up. Jeff can go.”
“Um, Shirley, I can help-” Annie begins softly.
Jeff stands and shoves his phone in his pocket. “I’m not an invalid, Annie, I can walk to the cafeteria.”
Britta takes a few quick, deep breaths and nods. “It’s fine.” She gives Annie and Troy a smile she hopes looks reassuring. Abed watches with wide eyes as she and Jeff head toward the door.
“Is this still a thing?” Pierce asks in a loud whisper.
The school is quiet and deserted and Britta is hyper-aware of her body and its movements. She tries to quicken her pace but Jeff is walking extra slow and so she matches his steps, wishing he would just walk normally so they could get this over with.
“So,” he says as they exit the library.
Her boots begin to echo on the linoleum of the hallway. “Please, just don’t, okay?”
“Don’t what?”
“Look, I don’t know if you said something to Shirley or what, but let’s just go get the stuff and get back as quickly as possible.”
“You don’t think we should talk?”
She sighs. “Jeff, you were the one who stopped talking to me. Don’t act like I didn’t try.”
“And I don’t get a chance to explain myself or apologize?”
“Apologize?” She stops short and then keeps going, shaking her head. “Just forget about it. It doesn’t even matter anymore.”
“It matters to me,” he says. “Does it really not matter to you?”
She crosses her arms over her chest and doesn’t answer. He doesn’t push the subject, and they’re silent until the cafeteria.
The sandwich shop is most of the cafeteria, now, maybe triple in size since last time Britta saw it. There’s a big, beautiful sign and a shiny new display case where some of Shirley’s signature wraps and subs and desserts sit, ready for Monday’s barrage of students. Pictures line one wall: Shirley and Pierce cutting the ribbon during the grand opening, Shirley and her kids, the seven of them eating there for the first time. She and Jeff are sitting shoulder-to-shoulder and she remembers him teasing her for the vegetarian sandwich Shirley had made just for her.
“You look good,” he says. She turns around and he’s looking at her looking at the pictures. “Now, I mean. In that picture, too.”
She makes her way back behind the counter. She’s so mad at Shirley, at Annie, at everyone who pressured her into flying all this way only to feel like an idiot in front of Jeff Winger again. She moved away, made a new life for herself, proved everyone wrong, and somehow she’s still back here, at Greendale, worrying about Jeff. It’s exhausting.
The cake, as promised, is in the fridge, and Britta sets it on the counter. It’s covered in white frosting with the Greendale flag on top and all of their names written in blue script.
“Britta, I’m sorry. At least talk to me. Where are you staying? Do you need a place to stay?”
“I’m staying at Annie’s,” she says quietly. She piles the paper plates and forks and grabs a cake server off a shelf.
“How long are you here?”
“Until Monday.”
“We should have dinner. Or a drink. Or something.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“It’s been four years, Britta, I-”
“Exactly,” she interrupts, meeting his eyes. “It’s been four years. You didn’t answer my calls. You left in the middle of the night like I was some girl you picked up at a bar. You were my best friend, Jeff. I was moving a thousand miles away and you couldn’t even stay the goddamn night.”
He looks down and runs a hand over his jaw. There’s stubble there, maybe one or two days’ worth, and she tries not to cringe at the noise his hand makes against it. She used to bug him about it, ask him to shave because beard burn irritated her skin, but he’d forgo shaving to make her mad because he thought it was funny.
“Oh, what, now you don’t know what to say?” she bites. “I thought I did something wrong for the longest time. So you’ll have to excuse me if I don’t really want to talk to you right now. I came here for them, not for you.”
She puts the plate pile on top of the cake box and tries to arrange it so she can carry everything all at once. It’s heavy and he reaches around her to put it all back on the counter. “Hear me out, okay? Two minutes, and then we can go back and you won’t have to talk to me for the rest of the day. Promise.”
She crosses her arms again but nods. “Two minutes.”
“You...” he starts. “You left.”
“Are you serious? You were mad at me for leaving?”
“No, not mad. I freaked out, okay? I thought I was going to be fine and we would text and Skype but then I was watching you sleep and it just hit me that you were going to be a thousand miles away and I didn’t know how to deal with that.”
“So you just decided to stop talking to me altogether.”
“Hey, I didn’t say it was sound logic,” he says with a sheepish smirk, which fades almost immediately. “It was easier to push you away than to admit that I needed you around.”
“You didn't just push me away, though. You completely erased me from your life. What if I needed you around, huh? You don’t get to make that decision for me.”
“I’m sorry. I couldn't wake up and drive you to the airport and watch you leave. I couldn’t do it.”
“I don’t understand. Did you think we were all going to stay here forever? Pierce leaves all the time.”
“Pierce comes back. And that’s different and you know it. I couldn’t compete with Berkeley. What if you forgot about me?”
Her hearts starts to sputter a bit because she’s pretty sure she knows what this is about. It scares her, though, to think that this entire thing has to do with feelings she thought they’d both been over for years and years. So she shakes her head and takes a step back. “Okay. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Let’s go back.” She picks up the cake again and starts to push past him but he stops her.
“At least let me carry this if you’re not going to hear me out.”
“I heard you out. And I can carry it.”
He tries to tug the cake from her grip but she doesn’t let go. “You didn’t hear me out.”
“I heard enough. You’re an asshole who would rather just never speak to someone again than have an adult conversation.”
“I’m trying to have an adult conversation with you now but you’re not listening.”
They wrestle over the cake, the pile of plates and forks forgotten on the counter. Britta knows he’s not putting his full strength in trying to take it from her, but she’s still struggling. “Did you know Pierce sends me a postcard from every place he visits?” she says. “And Shirley calls once a week and sends me brownies? And I have Skype dates with Troy and Abed? And Annie came to visit me three times? My own ex-boyfriend keeps in touch with me but you couldn’t even answer a damn text message. So give me the cake and let’s get out of here.”
His face clouds over a little and he frowns. “Fine.” He takes his hands off the cake and holds them in the air in mock-surrender. Britta trips a little, and the cake bumps against her chest, where the lid pops off and the entire thing falls on her, completely covering her torso, icing splattering up to hit her in the face.
They both freeze, eyes wide, and it’s thirty seconds before Jeff bursts into laughter. “Oh my god,” he says between guffaws, “you look ridiculous.”
He reaches out to wipe some of the icing off her face but she smacks his hand away. “Don’t. This is all your fault.”
She finds some napkins on the counter and tries to salvage her shirt. The cake was chocolate. “Shirley’s going to kill you,” she says, “and I’m going to tell her it was you and not me.”
He crouches down and picks up what’s left of the cake. “She won’t be as mad if we’re talking again.”
Britta scowls and shoves the cake tray into him, smearing chocolate and icing all over his shirt. “I’m still not talking to you.”
Jeff looks down at her with a glare. “Really?”
She raises an eyebrow and licks her lips a little to get some of the icing off.
“I’m a fucking idiot, Britta,” he says quietly. “You have every right to hate me but I wish you’d forgive me so we can start over.”
She sighs and feels her bones and muscles start to soften; she’s been tense from the minute she stepped off the plane, and it was only a few hours ago but it feels like forever ago. Greendale has this way of stopping and starting the passage of time, of making years feel like days and days feel like years. They both must look so ridiculous, covered in cake and standing in an empty cafeteria at a school neither of them attend anymore, staring at each other with eight years between them.
“I missed you,” she says finally, unevenly. “I wasn’t going to... I don’t know, I didn’t need you to drive me to the airport. You didn’t have to compete with Berkeley. You were... there wasn’t any competition.”
He takes a step forward and wipes icing off her forehead. “Let me make it up to you, okay? I don’t know how, but let me try.”
“You really are a fucking idiot, Jeff Winger,” she says without any malice.
His gaze flickers down to her mouth and she tilts her head up just the tiniest bit. They come together with a pretty gross squelch of cake and she can’t help but laugh into his mouth. His hands move up her sides to her shoulders to frame her face and she can feel herself covered in cake and he tastes like vanilla and she doesn’t really care. He backs them up to the counter and lifts her up to sit atop of it.
“You’re not forgiven yet, you know,” she says as he breaks away to trail his mouth down her neck. “I’m still super pissed at you.”
“Stay with me this weekend instead,” he mutters against her skin. “I have a new place that is sorely lacking in Britta Perry.”
“Don’t push it.” She wraps her legs around his waist and pulls him closer still. He returns to her mouth and there’s cake on his lips and it’s really one of the most disgusting ways she’s ever made out with someone.
“Seriously?”
They jump apart and their foreheads smack into each other with a clunk. The group is standing there with mixtures of horror and disgust on their faces, Shirley’s with an extra layer of anger.
“I wanted you two to talk, not to completely ruin my cake and desecrate my restaurant.”
“You can’t use frosting as a lubricant, Jeff, it just doesn’t work,” Pierce says.
Everyone groans and Troy wrinkles his nose. “You all have ruined cake for me forever. I hope you’re happy.”
Shirley makes her way around the two of them-Jeff’s right hand is still on Britta’s waist and one of her legs is wrapped around him, the other dangling awkwardly-to the freezer, where she pulls out a tub of ice cream. “I’ve learned my lesson that it’s never a bad idea to be over prepared around all of you.” There’s a ghost of a grin on her face and Britta smiles at her as she grabs spoons and the pile of plates. “Come on. Let’s go have dessert. You two clean yourselves up first.”
She leads the group back to the library and Britta looks at Jeff unsurely. He has icing smeared on his mouth, blue and pink and white, and he looks like a small child. “I’m gonna go grab a shirt out of the car,” she says.
“Nuh-uh, Perry,” he says, trapping her on the counter between his arms. “If I have to go the rest of this reunion looking like this, so do you.”
She rolls her eyes. “At least let me wash my face.”
He dips in to press a kiss to her jaw. “Come over after this.” He pulls some napkins out of the dispenser and hands a stack to her and she starts wiping icing out of the corners of her mouth.
“Are you in love with me?” she asks quietly.
They’d slept together almost regularly that last summer, while she worked at the local animal shelter and he continued to settle into his new/old life. It was casual and comfortable and it was nice, nice to have him be her best friend again, nice to have him around again, nice to feel that sort of connection with someone again. And it wasn’t like last time because they weren’t sneaking around, they weren’t arguing over whether they were dating or not. They were just hanging out, spending nights and weekends together, and for her, it was almost too easy to spend her time with him before she left.
He shrugs, eyes firmly on her ear as he reaches up to wipe a glob of cake off her earlobe.
“What were you going to do if I didn’t come this weekend?”
“I woulda figured something out.”
“Four years is a long time to wait around for someone.”
“It is.”
“I think,” she says, “that you and I still have a lot we need to talk about. Later.”
He nods and his fingers work cake out of her hair and he looks so old and she feels so old. He’s almost forty and she’s not too far behind. Too old for games.
“We’re going to be adults about this, okay?” she continues.
He nods again. He helps her down from the counter and she can feel his hand ghost against the small of her back as they walk to the study room. The group is eating ice cream, a plate with two scoops sitting at Jeff’s and Britta’s empty spots, and Annie is in the middle of telling the story of what sounds like a gruesome murder scene. Shirley looks on politely but her face is going a tinge of green and Troy, Abed, and Pierce all seem captivated. Jeff and Britta slide silently into their seats, still covered in cake, and pick up their spoons.
“And the blood splatter on the wall was in the weirdest pattern,” Annie continues. “It took my team the longest time to figure out that the murder weapon was a meat tenderizer.”
“Whoa,” Troy says, eyes wide.
“Good misdirect by the killer,” Abed notes. “Did they catch him?”
“Oh yeah,” Annie says, “he’s in jail now. Twenty-five to life.”
Under the table, Britta slides her foot forward as much as she can until it hits Jeff’s. He glances over at her and she gives him a small smile. His expression is unreadable for a minute and then he returns the smile, equally small but also quiet and a little uncertain. She nods once before they turn their attention back to the group, to Pierce now, who’s talking about his upcoming trip to Florida.
Britta knows there’s work to be done, things to talk about, long-distance to work out. But surrounded by her friends, her boot still against Jeff’s sneaker, she feels more content than she has in a while. She’s not dreading getting back on that plane Monday; she’s excited. She’ll get her PhD and maybe move back home. She’ll be a therapist and Jeff will be a lawyer and the group will be the group and they’ll always be together, the seven of them against the world, because that’s how it began and that’s how it’s going to end.
“I know we’re all adults now,” Troy says, “but we aren’t too old for pajama party movie marathon, are we?”
Jeff scoffs and everyone rolls their eyes at him.
“Kickpuncher remake DVD came in the mail yesterday,” Abed says. “Extended producer’s cut.”
“I’m in. I love Kickpuncher,” Shirley says.
“Can I recycle my jokes from the original?” Pierce asks.
“I don’t care what we do as long as I get to change first,” Britta says.
“Oooh, I bought peppermint hot chocolate at the store the other day. I can stop home and get it!” Annie says.
“Jeffrey, are you in?” Shirley asks.
Somehow, his phone has returned to his hand and he shrugs one shoulder. “Whatever.”
The group groans. They get up and throw the trash away, wipe down the table and head out to the parking lot together. They make the plan to meet at Troy and Abed’s in half an hour and head their separate ways.
Britta digs through her suitcase, looking for a clean shirt. She strips down to her tank top before pulling the clean sweater over her head. Jeff’s shaking cake remnants off his own shirt and when he’s satisfied with the results, he gestures toward his car. “What do you think?”
“It’s douchey,” she says with a smirk.
He gently shoves her against the door and kisses her. “What time is your flight on Monday?” he asks when he pulls away.
“Ten-thirty, why?”
“Let me drive you to the airport.”
“But I have the rental car.”
“So we’ll take it back tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to work Monday?”
“I’ll take the day off. I’m trying to do something nice, stop ruining it.”
She laughs. “Okay.”
“All right. Kickpuncher awaits. Are you going to drop your stuff at Annie’s first?”
“Thought I’d drop it off at your place, if that’s okay.”
He smiles and kisses her again. "Yeah, that's okay."
She gets in the rental car and Greendale passes by as she follows him home. She feels anxious again, but in a good way, like something good is coming and she's ready to experience it. The taillights of his new Lexus burn bright and at every red light she can see him watching her through the rearview mirror. She’s still a little angry, still a little hurt. But those things will fade, because she’s tired of feeling them. She laughs and it resonates in her belly, lightens her bones, and she is happy.
Jeff/Britta
~5,100 words
Britta spends money she doesn't have on a plane ticket and flies home for the first time in four years.
Since they didn’t all graduate at the same time, Annie decides that the reunion will be celebrating five years since the start of their final year together at Greendale. The logic is kind of unsound for Annie, but Britta can’t ignore the barrage of emails and phone calls and texts she gets from Annie and Shirley asking if she’s booked her flight yet, so she spends money she doesn’t have on a plane ticket and flies home for the first time in over four years.
The reunion is in the study room at Greendale-Shirley mentioned something about them having to keep quiet and clean up after themselves, which makes Britta think Dean Pelton hasn’t changed much in her time away-and catered by Shirley’s Sandwiches, which now has three locations outside the one in the Greendale cafeteria. Britta is consistently amazed and impressed at how quickly Shirley found such success. She’s looking forward to visiting each shop and reuniting her mouth with Shirley’s brownies, which don’t taste the same when stuck in a box and shipped to San Francisco.
She spends the flight typing up a lab report she has due when she gets back and trying not to be nervous. It’s not a very long flight to begin with, but it feels too quick because before she knows it, she’s picking up her rental car in Denver and driving toward Greendale. She listens to NPR on the way there, the volume low, the calming voices contrasting with her speeding heart rate. She pulls off the exit although the urge to keep driving is great, but she takes the long way around town, driving past her old apartment and The Red Door and The Greasy Fork and other places where she used to live her life. They look the same but smaller somehow, as if they’ve shrunk or they’re just not as big as she remembers them, as they used to be to her.
Greendale looks the same, though, the leaves on the trees starting to turn red and gold. It’s suddenly strange to be on a campus that isn’t Berkeley, and she realizes that she’s been at Berkeley for almost the same amount of time she was at Greendale, and eventually her time at Berkeley will be longer than her time at Greendale. It was such a big part of her life, maybe the most important part, and in the grand scheme of things, four years isn’t a long time at all for something so significant.
There is a smattering of cars in the parking lot: Britta doesn’t recognize any of them, and that makes her a little sad. She misses Shirley’s old van, Annie’s beat-up clunker, even the used station wagon Troy inherited from his dad. Britta realizes exactly how much time has gone by since she’s seen her friends, and the fear and anxiety in her stomach turns to a flutter of longing and excitement. She parks next to a blue car and when she gets out, she does a double-take because in the row in front of her there’s Jeff’s Lexus, only... it’s not. It’s newer, shinier, and-she notices when she peers through the windows-has beautiful leather interior and is missing all of the dings and imperfections of the older model. He must be doing pretty well for himself, Britta thinks, because this car looks expensive. She wouldn’t know.
Inside, Britta lets out a breath because the library is so warm and familiar. She spent most of her waking moments here, studying or goofing off or curled up on the couch to nap during that last semester when she was working her ass off to get her grades up and taking extra classes so she could graduate on time. It wasn’t just her home away from home, it was her actual home, because she sure as hell spent more time in the study room than she did in her own bedroom.
“Britta!”
She looks up and Annie’s head is popping out of the study room, a grin on her face. She runs up to Britta and throws her arms around her. “I can’t believe you’re here!”
Britta pats Annie’s back and squeezes just as hard. “I can’t either, to be honest.”
Annie pulls away and Britta is immediately swept into Shirley’s embrace. “Pumpkin!”
It’s a confusing couple of minutes as Britta is shuffled around from person to person: Pierce gives her a surprisingly warm hug and whispers in her ear that he’s sort of missed her, Abed smiles and holds her close for a few seconds as she leans into him, Troy-who Britta secretly believes to be the best hugger in the world, hands down-gathers her in his arms and kisses her cheek and Britta feels sad for a minute because in all this time she’s never allowed herself to miss him the way she should have.
Troy lets her go and Britta turns around, only to smack right into something solid and warm and smelling like expensive cologne. She looks up and there he is, towering over her like always, a sheepish and unsure expression on her face.
“Hey,” Jeff says, and it’s hesitant, almost a question, like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to speak to her.
“Hi,” she says. She can sense the group around them tense up and out of the corner of her eye, she sees Annie exchange a look with Abed and Troy.
He looks... well, he looks good. There are a few more lines in his face, mostly around his eyes, and Britta can spot a couple gray hairs in his sideburns, but he’s still Jeff, he’s still the handsome jerk he’s always been. Britta wonders if she looks different to him; her hair is much longer because she hasn’t had time for a haircut, but she’s wearing jeans and a leather jacket and boots. She doesn’t think she looks older-for all her mother lectured her about things like night cream and cleansers, she had actually been right-but maybe four years of all-nighters and tests and field work have taken their toll on her.
“Should we... go eat?” Annie asks.
Britta realizes she’s been staring at Jeff for probably a good ninety seconds now and turns to Annie and smiles. “I’m starving.”
“I made veggie wraps for you! Extra hummus!” Shirley says, hooking her arm through Britta’s and leading them all into the study room.
It’s weird, because they settle into their same seats, the same formation, and the axe marks are still on the table, along with Abed’s notches (and probably Jeff’s and Troy’s, if Britta looked). Britta wonders who uses this room now, if there’s a new study group at Greendale who hogs the room and takes up most of the Dean’s time and energy. She wonders who sits in her seat, who gives the speeches, who keeps them on track. Who has sex on the table in the middle of the night.
“This is good,” Abed says and Britta’s attention snaps back to the present. “Britta, you’re our outsider now. You have to tell us about your adventures.”
Britta rolls her eyes. “I don’t have any adventures. I’d rather hear about you guys anyway.”
Shirley pauses from handing out sandwiches. “My older boys are all grown up now! I have pictures on my phone, do you want to see?”
“Well, Britta,” Pierce begins as Shirley digs her phone out of her bag, “since you left I’ve been on six different missions for my temple and I’ve ascended to a Level Six Laser Lotus. For real this time! I’m spreading the good word of Buddha.”
“Are you, though?” Jeff asks, voice up a register. Britta starts, because she’s not expecting to hear him. Her body is turned almost totally to the right; it’s easier to avoid accidentally making eye contact with him by taking that option completely out of play.
“Be nice, Jeffrey,” Shirley admonishes. She passes the phone to Britta, who scrolls through the pictures, unbelieving that these are the same kids she saw four years ago at graduation.
She smiles at a picture of Elijah carrying Ben around on piggyback and leans over so Abed can see the pictures. “These are great, Shirley.”
“Ben was in my class last year,” Troy says. “He’s definitely smarter than all the other kids, and I’m not just saying that.”
Shirley preens. “You’re sweet, pumpkin. Ben loved kindergarten.”
“I can’t believe he’s six already,” Britta says. “And Jordan’s a senior?”
“Yes, and Elijah’s away at UC Boulder.”
“Elijah took my film class his senior year,” Abed says. “He was really good at it.”
“I think it’s so funny that you both taught two of Shirley’s kids,” Annie says as Britta passes her the phone so she can see the pictures. “It’s like everything has come full circle.”
“I can’t believe the state of Colorado gave you both licenses to teach,” Jeff drawls. Britta sneaks a look to her left and he’s on his phone, slumped in the chair, and her heart clenches a bit because suddenly it’s like they never left.
“Maybe I should become a teacher,” Pierce says. “It might be a good way to share my wealth of knowledge with young people.”
“No!” the six of them exclaim once. Annie catches Britta’s eye and the two of them burst into giggles.
Shirley continues handing out sandwiches and they pass around salads and sodas. The group chatters on about what they’ve been doing and things coming up for them: Annie recently put in for a promotion at a larger lab with the Denver Police Department, Pierce is flying to Orlando for a conference next week, Troy and Abed talk about some of their students, and Shirley gives updates on Elijah’s first month in college. Britta sits back and listens, doesn’t feel like adding in about nonstop work she has to do to keep up, about how she’s constantly afraid of falling behind, about how even after all this time, after being almost finished with the program, she still feels too small and too out of her element.
Jeff doesn’t say anything either, just listens and eats. He’s uncharacteristically quiet and the whole room feels off-balance without his interruptions or quips. Britta nods and smiles in all the right places, but she can’t help but keep glancing out of the corner of her eye; he picks up his phone every once in a while and she won’t let herself look at his face but his thumb scrolls through and she wonders, like she always used to, what-if anything-is capturing his attention.
I don’t know what I did to you, but you’re being an asshole by ignoring me, said the last text she sent to him. He’d been silent for her first two weeks at Berkeley, a silence she couldn’t seem to figure out nor get anyone else to explain to her. She woke up that last morning in her Greendale apartment expecting to find him sleeping next to her but instead all she found was empty space and no tangible evidence outside of a condom wrapper that they had ever even had sex after her going-away party. Britta had woken up alone many times after sex, even with Jeff in the beginning, but she hadn’t expected how much it would sting when she realized that Jeff, of all people, after all they had been through, had walked out on her in the middle of the night without a word.
“The cake’s in the fridge at the sandwich shop,” Shirley says. “I’ll run over and get it really quick.”
“Oh, Shirley, let me,” Britta volunteers, standing up. “I want to see the renovations you made.”
“Okay! Jeffrey, go with her and help. Grab the plates and forks off the counter.”
Everyone goes quiet. Troy pushes his chair back, “No, I’ll go with you, Britta.” She throws a grateful look Troy’s way but Shirley shakes her head.
“Troy, I need you to help me clear this mess up. Jeff can go.”
“Um, Shirley, I can help-” Annie begins softly.
Jeff stands and shoves his phone in his pocket. “I’m not an invalid, Annie, I can walk to the cafeteria.”
Britta takes a few quick, deep breaths and nods. “It’s fine.” She gives Annie and Troy a smile she hopes looks reassuring. Abed watches with wide eyes as she and Jeff head toward the door.
“Is this still a thing?” Pierce asks in a loud whisper.
The school is quiet and deserted and Britta is hyper-aware of her body and its movements. She tries to quicken her pace but Jeff is walking extra slow and so she matches his steps, wishing he would just walk normally so they could get this over with.
“So,” he says as they exit the library.
Her boots begin to echo on the linoleum of the hallway. “Please, just don’t, okay?”
“Don’t what?”
“Look, I don’t know if you said something to Shirley or what, but let’s just go get the stuff and get back as quickly as possible.”
“You don’t think we should talk?”
She sighs. “Jeff, you were the one who stopped talking to me. Don’t act like I didn’t try.”
“And I don’t get a chance to explain myself or apologize?”
“Apologize?” She stops short and then keeps going, shaking her head. “Just forget about it. It doesn’t even matter anymore.”
“It matters to me,” he says. “Does it really not matter to you?”
She crosses her arms over her chest and doesn’t answer. He doesn’t push the subject, and they’re silent until the cafeteria.
The sandwich shop is most of the cafeteria, now, maybe triple in size since last time Britta saw it. There’s a big, beautiful sign and a shiny new display case where some of Shirley’s signature wraps and subs and desserts sit, ready for Monday’s barrage of students. Pictures line one wall: Shirley and Pierce cutting the ribbon during the grand opening, Shirley and her kids, the seven of them eating there for the first time. She and Jeff are sitting shoulder-to-shoulder and she remembers him teasing her for the vegetarian sandwich Shirley had made just for her.
“You look good,” he says. She turns around and he’s looking at her looking at the pictures. “Now, I mean. In that picture, too.”
She makes her way back behind the counter. She’s so mad at Shirley, at Annie, at everyone who pressured her into flying all this way only to feel like an idiot in front of Jeff Winger again. She moved away, made a new life for herself, proved everyone wrong, and somehow she’s still back here, at Greendale, worrying about Jeff. It’s exhausting.
The cake, as promised, is in the fridge, and Britta sets it on the counter. It’s covered in white frosting with the Greendale flag on top and all of their names written in blue script.
“Britta, I’m sorry. At least talk to me. Where are you staying? Do you need a place to stay?”
“I’m staying at Annie’s,” she says quietly. She piles the paper plates and forks and grabs a cake server off a shelf.
“How long are you here?”
“Until Monday.”
“We should have dinner. Or a drink. Or something.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“It’s been four years, Britta, I-”
“Exactly,” she interrupts, meeting his eyes. “It’s been four years. You didn’t answer my calls. You left in the middle of the night like I was some girl you picked up at a bar. You were my best friend, Jeff. I was moving a thousand miles away and you couldn’t even stay the goddamn night.”
He looks down and runs a hand over his jaw. There’s stubble there, maybe one or two days’ worth, and she tries not to cringe at the noise his hand makes against it. She used to bug him about it, ask him to shave because beard burn irritated her skin, but he’d forgo shaving to make her mad because he thought it was funny.
“Oh, what, now you don’t know what to say?” she bites. “I thought I did something wrong for the longest time. So you’ll have to excuse me if I don’t really want to talk to you right now. I came here for them, not for you.”
She puts the plate pile on top of the cake box and tries to arrange it so she can carry everything all at once. It’s heavy and he reaches around her to put it all back on the counter. “Hear me out, okay? Two minutes, and then we can go back and you won’t have to talk to me for the rest of the day. Promise.”
She crosses her arms again but nods. “Two minutes.”
“You...” he starts. “You left.”
“Are you serious? You were mad at me for leaving?”
“No, not mad. I freaked out, okay? I thought I was going to be fine and we would text and Skype but then I was watching you sleep and it just hit me that you were going to be a thousand miles away and I didn’t know how to deal with that.”
“So you just decided to stop talking to me altogether.”
“Hey, I didn’t say it was sound logic,” he says with a sheepish smirk, which fades almost immediately. “It was easier to push you away than to admit that I needed you around.”
“You didn't just push me away, though. You completely erased me from your life. What if I needed you around, huh? You don’t get to make that decision for me.”
“I’m sorry. I couldn't wake up and drive you to the airport and watch you leave. I couldn’t do it.”
“I don’t understand. Did you think we were all going to stay here forever? Pierce leaves all the time.”
“Pierce comes back. And that’s different and you know it. I couldn’t compete with Berkeley. What if you forgot about me?”
Her hearts starts to sputter a bit because she’s pretty sure she knows what this is about. It scares her, though, to think that this entire thing has to do with feelings she thought they’d both been over for years and years. So she shakes her head and takes a step back. “Okay. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Let’s go back.” She picks up the cake again and starts to push past him but he stops her.
“At least let me carry this if you’re not going to hear me out.”
“I heard you out. And I can carry it.”
He tries to tug the cake from her grip but she doesn’t let go. “You didn’t hear me out.”
“I heard enough. You’re an asshole who would rather just never speak to someone again than have an adult conversation.”
“I’m trying to have an adult conversation with you now but you’re not listening.”
They wrestle over the cake, the pile of plates and forks forgotten on the counter. Britta knows he’s not putting his full strength in trying to take it from her, but she’s still struggling. “Did you know Pierce sends me a postcard from every place he visits?” she says. “And Shirley calls once a week and sends me brownies? And I have Skype dates with Troy and Abed? And Annie came to visit me three times? My own ex-boyfriend keeps in touch with me but you couldn’t even answer a damn text message. So give me the cake and let’s get out of here.”
His face clouds over a little and he frowns. “Fine.” He takes his hands off the cake and holds them in the air in mock-surrender. Britta trips a little, and the cake bumps against her chest, where the lid pops off and the entire thing falls on her, completely covering her torso, icing splattering up to hit her in the face.
They both freeze, eyes wide, and it’s thirty seconds before Jeff bursts into laughter. “Oh my god,” he says between guffaws, “you look ridiculous.”
He reaches out to wipe some of the icing off her face but she smacks his hand away. “Don’t. This is all your fault.”
She finds some napkins on the counter and tries to salvage her shirt. The cake was chocolate. “Shirley’s going to kill you,” she says, “and I’m going to tell her it was you and not me.”
He crouches down and picks up what’s left of the cake. “She won’t be as mad if we’re talking again.”
Britta scowls and shoves the cake tray into him, smearing chocolate and icing all over his shirt. “I’m still not talking to you.”
Jeff looks down at her with a glare. “Really?”
She raises an eyebrow and licks her lips a little to get some of the icing off.
“I’m a fucking idiot, Britta,” he says quietly. “You have every right to hate me but I wish you’d forgive me so we can start over.”
She sighs and feels her bones and muscles start to soften; she’s been tense from the minute she stepped off the plane, and it was only a few hours ago but it feels like forever ago. Greendale has this way of stopping and starting the passage of time, of making years feel like days and days feel like years. They both must look so ridiculous, covered in cake and standing in an empty cafeteria at a school neither of them attend anymore, staring at each other with eight years between them.
“I missed you,” she says finally, unevenly. “I wasn’t going to... I don’t know, I didn’t need you to drive me to the airport. You didn’t have to compete with Berkeley. You were... there wasn’t any competition.”
He takes a step forward and wipes icing off her forehead. “Let me make it up to you, okay? I don’t know how, but let me try.”
“You really are a fucking idiot, Jeff Winger,” she says without any malice.
His gaze flickers down to her mouth and she tilts her head up just the tiniest bit. They come together with a pretty gross squelch of cake and she can’t help but laugh into his mouth. His hands move up her sides to her shoulders to frame her face and she can feel herself covered in cake and he tastes like vanilla and she doesn’t really care. He backs them up to the counter and lifts her up to sit atop of it.
“You’re not forgiven yet, you know,” she says as he breaks away to trail his mouth down her neck. “I’m still super pissed at you.”
“Stay with me this weekend instead,” he mutters against her skin. “I have a new place that is sorely lacking in Britta Perry.”
“Don’t push it.” She wraps her legs around his waist and pulls him closer still. He returns to her mouth and there’s cake on his lips and it’s really one of the most disgusting ways she’s ever made out with someone.
“Seriously?”
They jump apart and their foreheads smack into each other with a clunk. The group is standing there with mixtures of horror and disgust on their faces, Shirley’s with an extra layer of anger.
“I wanted you two to talk, not to completely ruin my cake and desecrate my restaurant.”
“You can’t use frosting as a lubricant, Jeff, it just doesn’t work,” Pierce says.
Everyone groans and Troy wrinkles his nose. “You all have ruined cake for me forever. I hope you’re happy.”
Shirley makes her way around the two of them-Jeff’s right hand is still on Britta’s waist and one of her legs is wrapped around him, the other dangling awkwardly-to the freezer, where she pulls out a tub of ice cream. “I’ve learned my lesson that it’s never a bad idea to be over prepared around all of you.” There’s a ghost of a grin on her face and Britta smiles at her as she grabs spoons and the pile of plates. “Come on. Let’s go have dessert. You two clean yourselves up first.”
She leads the group back to the library and Britta looks at Jeff unsurely. He has icing smeared on his mouth, blue and pink and white, and he looks like a small child. “I’m gonna go grab a shirt out of the car,” she says.
“Nuh-uh, Perry,” he says, trapping her on the counter between his arms. “If I have to go the rest of this reunion looking like this, so do you.”
She rolls her eyes. “At least let me wash my face.”
He dips in to press a kiss to her jaw. “Come over after this.” He pulls some napkins out of the dispenser and hands a stack to her and she starts wiping icing out of the corners of her mouth.
“Are you in love with me?” she asks quietly.
They’d slept together almost regularly that last summer, while she worked at the local animal shelter and he continued to settle into his new/old life. It was casual and comfortable and it was nice, nice to have him be her best friend again, nice to have him around again, nice to feel that sort of connection with someone again. And it wasn’t like last time because they weren’t sneaking around, they weren’t arguing over whether they were dating or not. They were just hanging out, spending nights and weekends together, and for her, it was almost too easy to spend her time with him before she left.
He shrugs, eyes firmly on her ear as he reaches up to wipe a glob of cake off her earlobe.
“What were you going to do if I didn’t come this weekend?”
“I woulda figured something out.”
“Four years is a long time to wait around for someone.”
“It is.”
“I think,” she says, “that you and I still have a lot we need to talk about. Later.”
He nods and his fingers work cake out of her hair and he looks so old and she feels so old. He’s almost forty and she’s not too far behind. Too old for games.
“We’re going to be adults about this, okay?” she continues.
He nods again. He helps her down from the counter and she can feel his hand ghost against the small of her back as they walk to the study room. The group is eating ice cream, a plate with two scoops sitting at Jeff’s and Britta’s empty spots, and Annie is in the middle of telling the story of what sounds like a gruesome murder scene. Shirley looks on politely but her face is going a tinge of green and Troy, Abed, and Pierce all seem captivated. Jeff and Britta slide silently into their seats, still covered in cake, and pick up their spoons.
“And the blood splatter on the wall was in the weirdest pattern,” Annie continues. “It took my team the longest time to figure out that the murder weapon was a meat tenderizer.”
“Whoa,” Troy says, eyes wide.
“Good misdirect by the killer,” Abed notes. “Did they catch him?”
“Oh yeah,” Annie says, “he’s in jail now. Twenty-five to life.”
Under the table, Britta slides her foot forward as much as she can until it hits Jeff’s. He glances over at her and she gives him a small smile. His expression is unreadable for a minute and then he returns the smile, equally small but also quiet and a little uncertain. She nods once before they turn their attention back to the group, to Pierce now, who’s talking about his upcoming trip to Florida.
Britta knows there’s work to be done, things to talk about, long-distance to work out. But surrounded by her friends, her boot still against Jeff’s sneaker, she feels more content than she has in a while. She’s not dreading getting back on that plane Monday; she’s excited. She’ll get her PhD and maybe move back home. She’ll be a therapist and Jeff will be a lawyer and the group will be the group and they’ll always be together, the seven of them against the world, because that’s how it began and that’s how it’s going to end.
“I know we’re all adults now,” Troy says, “but we aren’t too old for pajama party movie marathon, are we?”
Jeff scoffs and everyone rolls their eyes at him.
“Kickpuncher remake DVD came in the mail yesterday,” Abed says. “Extended producer’s cut.”
“I’m in. I love Kickpuncher,” Shirley says.
“Can I recycle my jokes from the original?” Pierce asks.
“I don’t care what we do as long as I get to change first,” Britta says.
“Oooh, I bought peppermint hot chocolate at the store the other day. I can stop home and get it!” Annie says.
“Jeffrey, are you in?” Shirley asks.
Somehow, his phone has returned to his hand and he shrugs one shoulder. “Whatever.”
The group groans. They get up and throw the trash away, wipe down the table and head out to the parking lot together. They make the plan to meet at Troy and Abed’s in half an hour and head their separate ways.
Britta digs through her suitcase, looking for a clean shirt. She strips down to her tank top before pulling the clean sweater over her head. Jeff’s shaking cake remnants off his own shirt and when he’s satisfied with the results, he gestures toward his car. “What do you think?”
“It’s douchey,” she says with a smirk.
He gently shoves her against the door and kisses her. “What time is your flight on Monday?” he asks when he pulls away.
“Ten-thirty, why?”
“Let me drive you to the airport.”
“But I have the rental car.”
“So we’ll take it back tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to work Monday?”
“I’ll take the day off. I’m trying to do something nice, stop ruining it.”
She laughs. “Okay.”
“All right. Kickpuncher awaits. Are you going to drop your stuff at Annie’s first?”
“Thought I’d drop it off at your place, if that’s okay.”
He smiles and kisses her again. "Yeah, that's okay."
She gets in the rental car and Greendale passes by as she follows him home. She feels anxious again, but in a good way, like something good is coming and she's ready to experience it. The taillights of his new Lexus burn bright and at every red light she can see him watching her through the rearview mirror. She’s still a little angry, still a little hurt. But those things will fade, because she’s tired of feeling them. She laughs and it resonates in her belly, lightens her bones, and she is happy.