"Another Negroni."

"You got it," Britta smiled, as she took the empty Old Fashioned glass, and wiped the condensation from the dark wood bar with a black napkin from the caddy. "Another for you?" she asked the young man's companion. It was clearly a first date situation and looked like it was going well. The girl was still working on a French 75, and though it wasn't great for her take-home tips, Britta approved of this girl nursing her drink while she was still sizing up this guy. Britta turned to put the glass in the dish bin, grabbed a cocktail shaker and filled it with ice. She poured in the Perry's Tot, Campari and vermouth with muscle memory, and when she grasped for a clean glass, caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. With her image set off against the background of the softly glowing bar, with its white tile walls and warm maple plank ceiling, lit by filament bulbs and white votives in mason jars throughout the room, Britta was amused and pleased at the abrupt turn life had taken in the past couple of months. She delivered the cocktail, and walked down the bar to uncork a bottle of red for one of the seated tables, taking the moment as the removed the cork from the corkscrew to pat herself on the back for finally getting out of that bistro from hell where she was waitressing in the spring. The one where the hostess, Dana, was so awful to customers, that they took it out on the other staff and barely ever tipped properly. It was definitely just a paycheck, and no one loved working there. When Juniper Hill opened, Britta drove by and on the spur of the moment, walked in to apply as a bartender, slightly exaggerating her experience (perhaps fabricating a stint manning the bar at The Greendale Pub at school). The place was amazing- local food, interesting drinks, a non-embarrassing 'uniform'- and Britta and the owner/manager Nate hit it off right away. She was hired on her birthday, and Nate had gone to pour her a vodka to celebrate hiring her. She was sure he thought she was kidding when she shared the significance of the day to her, so she showed him her driver's license – "June 20, 1982" – and he got so excited he gave her an impromptu hug. She was almost a little teary on the drive back to her apartment that day. It was an odd feeling; she couldn't shake it for days.

Just a couple months ago, Britta had been expelled from her third rate community college, had failed a remedial biology class, and was barely making rent on her studio. It was a pretty horrible start to her thirties. The whole point of selling out her social activism work and going to college was supposed to be so that she could turn thirty with some kind of stability in her life. Now at least she passed bio (with an impressive A-), was getting to testify soon at the competency evaluation for the man responsible for her unjust expulsion, and she was feeling so positive lately that she was motivated as she'd not been since her early Anarchist days. Things were looking up, and Britta had confidence in her plan for the future, if she could only keep to it for the next year.

The pay was at this place was fantastic- she had only been working there five weeks and already earned enough to finally buy a real cell phone and sock away money for a holiday getaway. It was one of the most upscale bar/restaurants in town with a focus on organic, local food and whiskey drinks, and was even becoming a destination in the area. The hours…were fine for summer. Bars closed at 2 am, and she worked five nights a week, so her hours were odd, but it left her free in the daytime. She was already exhausted whenever she tried to get up before noon, so she tried not to think about going back to Greendale next month for her morning classes on barely six hours sleep a night.

Sunday nights were relatively slow, but Britta welcomed the change of pace from the weekend rush that started Thursdays. She let her mind wander to what she was going to do with her day off tomorrow. How many pages of chapter 7 did she have left to get through, and could she do it while she did laundry? Probably. If she didn't stop to take notes. That would give her a great start finishing chapter 8 before the weekend, and she could do her response questions Saturday afternoon. That would work. Her musings were interrupted by new customers. Two Moscow Mules for the bar. Caps off the Fever-Tree. Squeeze the limes. Ice. Vodka. Pour in the ginger beer. "Do you want to start a tab?" she asked sweetly to the two guys. "No, here you go," the tall one replied, handing her a fifty. He only would take a twenty back. This gig was the best. "What's your name," he asked. "I'm Joe, this is my buddy Mike."

"I'm Britta- nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you," Mike chimed in. "This is a nice pour."

She couldn't tell if they were flirting or making conversation. "Of course."

"We were just playing baseball- do you play sports, Britta?" Joe asked.

They were definitely trying to flirt, but it was harmless and part of the gig. "I can't say I have. More of a watcher."

"You can watch us sometime," Joe continued, as he swigged his Mule. "We play for our company, Comcast, we're over on the field down Market Street."

"Yeah?" Britta played along. "Oh, excuse me, I need to step into the kitchen for a sec." She really did, grabbing a gnocchi entrée for a young woman next to the couple on their date. The dish was hot- she was holding it with a double linen napkin- so she was concentrating on setting it down quickly and walked completely past a new patron seated directly in front of the kitchen door. "Macallan. Neat."

"Sure," automatically. "Oh, hey! What are you doing here, Jeff?"

"You invited me, remember?" he teased. "Your facebook status said to drop by and visit you at work. Besides, I wanted a drink. And I haven't seen you in weeks." Her eyes never left him as she uncorked the bottle. It was true, she had barely seen anyone from the study group since she started this job and her online class. He looked great. His stubble was more prominent than ever; though it could make other guys look tired and lazy, it worked on him. She thought scruff was totally sexy, even if she personally preferred to make out with clean shaven guys. It made Jeff look more mature, more put together. And though she wasn't sure, she thought she spied some gray towards the bottom of his chin, which she found herself inextricably turned on by. He was wearing one of her favorite shirts- the dark blue button down that brought out his eyes, and it was getting tight around his biceps. She wasn't sure why he was there though. That was a facebook update from last week, and more of a humblebrag about her new gig. They hadn't just hung out without other people in months. She hadn't noticed until just then. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, really. I wanted to see you. Say hello. Make sure everything's okay with you. Catch up."

As Britta set down his Scotch, that's when her eye caught the book next to Jeff's hand. "What's that? You're doing summer reading? Do you need me to read to you?"

"Haha. I read. I can't read in my apartment though. It's way too quiet. It's funny, I think I got really used to studying with the group where there are so many distractions all the time- I can't get anything done when I don't have any." Jeff's left hand was on top of the book, so Britta couldn't make it out. She gently stroked her fingers over the back of his hand, teasing him to give up the title. Jeff smiled and grabbed it, "Geez, eager, are we?"

"As You Like It?" Britta exclaimed, genuinely surprised. "Shakespeare?"

He couldn't decide if he was amused or hurt. "Why are you so shocked? I was a lawyer, I can read."

"I know. I mean, I've never, and I mean, never, seen you with a book that wasn't a textbook before. Are you really bored this summer?" Kelly, one of the table waitresses, came up to Britta's left side, "Old Fashioned, White Rascal and a Del Norte."

"Thanks Kel. Jeff- you want food? It's good here," handing him a menu, and turning to fill the order. The truth was, Jeff was bored this summer. It had only been a few weeks since biology ended and summer school was out at Greendale, but he wasn't enjoying his free time as much as he thought he would. And that really bothered him, because he knew that, going into his senior year, this would hopefully be his last free summer for a long time. Worse yet, his mom had retired after 40 years of night nursing, and was asking, no, practically begging, to get together for dinner. He couldn't put her off for much longer. If she had too much free time on her hands, he didn't want to be her project now. Not that Jeff didn't have things to do. Though he had kept it a secret so far, he had enrolled in another online class to stay on schedule to graduate early, and it was a lot of work. They were reading a new play every week and a half or so. And he had something else he'd been keeping to himself since bio ended.

After everything that had happened in the last year, he'd decided that he was a mature adult and he had the right to confront his father and tell William Winger what a disappointment he was as a human being. That in fact, this was something he should do, for his mother's sake, too, and for closure. There was a big chapter in Jeff's life that was coming to a close, and he should tie up all the loose ends, make a clean break when he graduated and re-started his law career. Besides, he figured, he only had to see this guy once, and then he could be truly done with him. What actually happened knocked him sideways, and Jeff started to have strange dreams that would wake him up at night. Were they dreams? It was more that he would dream a long-forgotten memory of spending time with his father, doing innocuous things. He'd be in the passenger seat of a sedan with his father in the driver's seat and remember they were on their way home from buying milk or going to school in the morning. Things like that. Totally harmless, but he was shaken up by them. Was there something else he had forgotten? Why was he remembering these now? And what prompted these? The unpleasant discovery that William Winger was living just half an hour away, and there was a William Winger, Jr. who had to be his half-brother. Jeff alternated between clicking off the google search almost immediately after he would type it, and more often when he looked late at night, searching the Junior's face for any resemblance to himself. Jeff sipped his scotch. "You know what you want?"

Jeff looked up, and snapped back to the present. "Oh, you startled me. No, I ate."

"Come on, it's great," and with that, Britta wouldn't take no for an answer, snapping the small bar menu away and leaving him for the kitchen. Jeff shouted after her, "Where are you going," to no avail. He shook his head and opened his book. It was good to see her. She looked happy for the first time in ages; in control. And really good. Her blonde hair was pulled back on one side with a black barrette. She was wearing her usual heeled black boots with what looked like a new pair of dark denim cigarette boyfriend jeans that looked comfortably loose slung around her waist but tight in the rear. The Juniper Hill 'uniform' was a slate gray v-neck t-shirt, and Britta wore some new necklace he'd never seen before on a delicate gold chain that fell just over and in between her breasts. Jeff had tried not to stare at it. But maybe he'd ask her about it later and get a closer look. How had he not been paying attention to how attractive Britta was lately?

As if on cue, Britta swept back in and put a plate to the side of him. "They're blistered shishito peppers with sea salt. My favorite thing right now." They looked like little jalepeno peppers.

"Are they hot?" It seemed like a dumb question, but Britta was attracted to some crazy things, and burning her mouth off and calling it her 'favorite thing' wouldn't be too odd.

"I'm being honest- most of them are not. Not really. Every once in awhile, you get one that makes you want to cry a little and bite your tongue off, but you push through it." Jeff grabbed a crispy pepper by the stem and holds it up to Britta, as if to feed it to her. She automatically found herself leaning in, before she bolted upright, remembering that she was at work and couldn't be having her ex feeding her food she's just basically stolen from the friendly kitchen.

Jeff sensed this and tried to change the subject, "Are you working until two?"

"Well, yeah," she replied, but not wanting to talk about herself just yet, diverted back to Jeff. "So- back to you. What's with this?" gesturing to the book.

"Well, I'm only telling you this, so it's not consumption for the group yet."

More interesting. Britta leaned in and encouraged him to continue. "Ooh- okay."

Jeff took a deep breath and smiled. "I also chose a major this summer."

"Stealing my thunder?" she jokingly chided him. That was nice. Preplanning was not exactly what Britta was expecting, especially from the king of blow-off classes. She let it settle in for a minute. "Wow. That's great. What do lawyers undergrad in? I have no idea, actually? History? Business?"

"Um, sure. I settled on English. I figured I could get away with a lot of creative writing." It was true, and his best grades had been in his composition classes, and a couple courses Greendale offered on the modern novel. By the time he started looking at what classes he'd need to graduate when he thought he wasn't going to get into Bio last fall, and realized he could squeeze in enough credits by December if he did some online, English just made sense.

"That makes a lot of sense," Britta responded, reading his mind. "Jeff Winger, English major. "

He cut to the chase, "I'm taking a class online. 'The Elizabethan Plays' for this Renaissance literature credit. I think I can graduate early, and Greendale's not really offering these classes anyway. It doesn't make sense- it's their schedule and their tracks, why doesn't 'Scrabble Strategy' count towards my requirements?"

Finally! Someone Britta could share her newfound frustrations on this with! "I know, right? And they have a psych major and only one psych professor? It's…."

It occurred to Jeff this was an actual problem for her. "Are you gonna be able to get out of there on time?"

She hesitated. She'd wait for a better moment to tell him. "Oh, me? Yeah. And that's really great for you. I didn't know you wanted to do that."

"Well, it makes sense. The sooner I can go back to being a lawyer, the better. I mean, that's what I came back to Greendale to do. I can afford to not be working the full year, but barely, my savings would just cover it, and besides, if Alan's forced me out of Hamish, I'm going to need to hustle a little to get some consulting work."

"And now you're willingly taking summer school?" she smiles at him.

Jeff takes another sip of scotch, looks into her eyes and says "My pride fell with my fortunes..." she looks impressed. "It's from the play. Never mind."

"So this is definite? You're definitely graduating in December?" Britta asks.

"If I pass this class, and can finish the last few requirements this fall." He started to believe it, having said it out loud. And having said it to her. He knew she was going to hold him to it.

"Whoa. Well," taking a bite of very hot pepper and trying to hide her face squinching, "That went by fast, right"

"What did?" said Jeff, sipping his scotch and raising his eyebrow.

"The last three years," Britta replied, dropping the stem back onto the plate, and pouring herself a glass of water.

"Definitely. Too fast."

"You're going to miss us?" she asked. Jeff shrugged, trying to be nonchalant, but considered the question.

"Yeah, but I'm not really going anywhere. I'll still be in town. I'll still see you." He noticed a little hesitation in her eyes. "What?"

"Hold on a sec, be right back." Britta went down the bar to get the check for the first date couple, who have gotten very flirty, and to pour another Pinor Noir for the woman with the pasta. By the time she got back, she was bursting and couldn't help but tell Jeff, "I've been taking online classes, too."

"You're kidding me?" he really wasn't sure.

"No," as her arms automatically crossed in defense.

Jeff pressed her, "Really, you're serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious, why would you say that?"

He wasn't trying to upset her. "No reason, just surprised I guess. Why anyone would want to take more classes if they didn't need to. They're not cheap and it's a lot more work than stuff at Greendale."

Her arms were still crossed. "No kidding."

"Well, so why are you doing it? Don't tell me you wanted to graduate early, too?" he asked, starting to wonder.

"Not even on my radar. Just want to graduate with my psych major. Duncan's not teaching classes I want on my transcript. And I need a statistics class, which I will take with Slater when pigs fall from the sky. When it rains pigs? Or whatever. Either. So no."

Jeff was definitely curious now. "You're taking statistics?"

"No, not right now." Britta's arms moved to her hips. "I'm taking Human Growth and Development? I have to take a stat this fall, and it's making me a little nervous. And study for my GRE. I'm already having flashbacks of studying for my GED. And do my regular classes, and I have all these extra hours here, which are great, but it's a lot. I'm trying not to think about it yet."

"Wow, so that's a lot of information. You're in a psych class right now?"

"Yeah," she answered.

He was impressed. He was pretty convinced at the end of the Greendale semester that her bad experience "therapizing" the unthearapizable Abed would have turned her off psychology completely. "And you like it?"

Britta opened up. "I love it. Oh, here's something fun I learned last week. Some of the main features of newborns that makes their parents want to pick them up are their big eyes and large foreheads."

"Hey, mean!" Though Jeff had come to accept his large forehead, he was still sensitive about it.

"Come on, it's a compliment."

"Ow," Jeff emphasized. "Wait, anyway, why are you worried about the GRE," he asked, knowingly.

"Come on, Jeff, I'm 30 years old. I have to at least think about grad school. I'm just…" she trailed off.

"Just what?" he followed up, concernedly.

"Just getting worried that if I don't do something else soon, than I'm really no better off than when I started at Greendale. And then what was the point?"

The rest of the night flew by, and soon it was closing time. Jeff actually got a little reading done, but spent whatever free time Britta had probing her about her plans for grad school. Turns out, she was looking at some programs in New York, including a pretty affordable CUNY school where she felt like she had a good shot at getting in. Jeff had never taken Britta's time in New York seriously, but listening to her talk about the advantages of particular neighborhoods over others, places she missed, what friends were still in "the city," and how much she already knew about where she wanted to apply, he realized there was still a lot he didn't know about her. "I need a study break," he goaded her. "Want to watch a movie?"

Britta laughed, "It's pretty late. And I should check on Daniel."

"Oh- who?" Jeff asked, trying to be nonchalant.

"Uh, my cat. The one with one eye you pick on constantly. Poor little guy hasn't been eating since Walter died."

"Okay, bleeding heart. Anyway, I meant tomorrow. Are you free?"

"Yeah, I'm off until Wednesday," she said.

Jeff assumed she was in. "Good, text me when you wake up? We can meet at the mall?"

"Or we can study together? Like old times?" She was half-serious. As tempting as it was to have a 'real' day off, she worried about getting complacent about schoolwork. She was pulling an A in her class, and was determined to keep it for the remaining four weeks of the semester. If she wanted to get into grad school…

"Buzzkill. Okay, some studying, some actual summer not work. I really do need a day off. This must be what actual college is like." He looked into her eyes, and she found herself nodding almost despite herself. Britta missed these interactions, and would be lying if she told herself she wasn't intrigued by the offer. He continued, "So come over, and we'll study a little, if you insist, and watch a movie. I'll order Thai."

She half-wondered if Jeff meant anything else by movie. It used to be practically code between them for turning on Netflix, playfully fighting over what they'd watch, which led to making out, cowgirl on the couch, and her never being able to find her socks in the morning. It was summer after all. She was a college student. She was on the pill. He probably expected her to do impetuous things. And with their history…she wasn't opposed to the idea of restarting her friendship with benefits. But she was getting ahead of herself. This was just hanging out with an old friend. God, was she feeling defensive or excited?

Britta hadn't slept with anyone since she'd been boob-fucked in a blanket fort by Rick the Subway guy last semester. It was ridiculous. And before that, it was Jeff. This guy she really liked hanging out with, but drove her crazy disagreeing with her. Sometimes it had felt like he missed being a lawyer so much that he just loved getting arguments out of his system, and she always took the bait. There was a connection in that, but Jeff was still so closely guarded that they had never been able to have any deeper conversations. His lack of openness, even in their most intimate moments, had started to make her genuinely angry, especially when he freaked out when she left a toothbrush at his apartment, and weeks later let Chang full on move in with him. Not that she wanted that, they had totally been keeping it open. But she had started to realize she liked him better as a friend. It was hard to explain, but he was more than a casual hook-up and she had started to resent feeling like one then going back to a somewhat healthier friendship during the day. It had lasted almost a year, and they never really talked about it, which was good. There was no drama. She looked up and her eye caught his mouth, his bottom lip, wet from where he's just licked the last drop of scotch off it. Goddamnit. It would feel so good to just make out with him right now. "Allright, your place. Five o'clock?"