Her hair smells like the strawberry shampoo she uses.
It's just another reminder of how innocent she is and why this isn't okay and it's the reason he moves away every time things get too intense. And as the days pass things get more intense and he's not sure how much longer he'll last. He's never been patient or strong, yet Annie somehow manages to both make him better at that and test it at the same time.
Perhaps that's part of why he refuses to give into it. In the beginning he thinks it's a physical urge alone, but he sees her as better than that, as someone who deserves more than that, so he does his best to ignore it. Later he starts to realize that the way his heart beats in his chest when she's around has nothing to do with how goddamn cute she is in that dress or what she looks like when her hair shrouds her face for a moment. It has everything to do with the fact that he has no idea what's on her mind, how her eyes always seem to question him, how she seems to function as his conscience some days. It's hard to want to desecrate one of the main things that makes him a better person.
Sometimes he wonders if it would've been easier had she never joined the group. And then he imagines himself without her, without Annie, and it's insanely hard to comprehend so he lets it go. But some nights he finds himself dwelling on what it would be like with her. What it would be like to have her warm body next to him, and to some extent he feels like she would be something like a crutch. He's trying so hard to be a better person for his friends- for the few people he cares about- and she comes around and makes that natural for him. Needing her for anything scares him.
But he does need her. It's a realization he has one day, one insignificant day when she's just standing off by herself, eyes trained on the notebook in front of her. It's a realization that hits him hard in the chest and he freezes for a moment, and it isn't like the movies where it's such a gleeful thing to know. It's terrifying and paralyzing and he considers getting in his car and driving far, far away. But the moment is fleeting because she looks up at him and smiles a little and he realizes, yet again, that he couldn't even imagine himself without her around in some form.
Sometimes he thinks about what the future holds. Not in respect for the both of them, but separately; who she'll meet one of these days and settle down with. What her kids would look like, what kind of exceptionally nice guy she'll love. How she'll look at this man is the thought that plagues him the most, and he finds himself wondering if it'll be anything like she already looks at him. In those moments he knows he could never compare.
It's nothing like Jeff to be self-deprecating, but then again, Annie brings out a million sides in him that he never knew he had. He wonders if it's her or if it's what being in love feels like.
When she's close by, like now, it's hard to resist. Her eyes flicker to his lips and his breath catches in his throat; he's afraid that if he moves at all, he'll lose control. She's thinking about kissing him, too, as Jeff Winger is familiar with women and reading their body language. Annie's no different, though wondering about the emotions behind those eyes is a first. She's not moving away and he's both terrified and hanging on the very edge, begging her to do it.
She reads that look in his eyes and there's only a moment of hesitation before she finally leans in, closing the gap in between them. Her lips feel soft and he can't help but note the difference in between this kiss and the one out by the library their first year. They're older now; the forbidden feeling to it has lessened and the passion is different. More intense in a way, but communicative now, and he wonders if he'll regret it afterwards.
There's a current of electricity that's cycling through him, though, and he's not sure how he's supposed to ever pull away from her. That sizzle is threatening to become something more- his hands are begging to wander, but he manages to keep them safely planted at her waist. There's something so simultaneously terrifying and giddy about this kiss that he can't help but be reminded of the first time he'd kissed a girl back in middle school. He realizes then that Annie will always make him feel refreshed and new that way, and that no one else will ever compare to her.
When she finally draws back- because he surely can't- his eyes stay closed for a moment. He prolongs that moment; he waits for that current to fizzle out but it doesn't, as she's still close and he can feel her there. He's afraid to open his eyes, though. He's afraid of what he'll see in her own, though he knows he can't stand there forever like this. She's waiting and he can feel it in the tense way she holds onto his neck.
"Jeff-" She says just as he opens his eyes and he just stares at her blankly, unable to form any words. Do they have to talk about it? Can't he just live here? It's so complicated that he can't wrap his mind around it. "I'm sorry, I-"
"Don't be," he says without thinking, swallowing thickly afterwards. His eyes are still focused on her lips and he memorizes the shape of them for a while, still afraid to look her in the eye. But eventually he works up the courage to do so and she's curious. He knows that look all too well. "I don't know what to say," he finally says, breaking the awkward silence, and he knows it's not the right thing to say but it's true.
She looks disappointed and his heart drops; he hates that. He's always hated it. That disappointment is the only thing he can't handle, and he's afraid that was how all of this spiraled to begin with. "Annie, it's just that I don't know if this is… the best idea." The words come out careful, hesitant, and he's even mad at himself for saying them. The only thing he wants to do is lean back in and kiss her, hard, but somehow he's barely holding himself back.
He expects to see hurt there, but he doesn't give her enough credit. She's grown up so much; there's no rejected schoolgirl look in her eye like the last time. Instead he sees pure exasperation, and he understands why as he feels the same way. Is this inevitable anyway? He feels like he's not quite strong enough for this.
And then she's walking away and he's left standing there, so confused as to how a girl seventeen years his junior can make him feel like this.
It's not until a month later that he realizes pushing her away isn't a strength. It's a weakness. The crutch is not needing her, it's running away from the fact that it could go awry. And the longer he's around her the less secure he feels but the more invested he knows he is. He'll always need her, and maybe- just maybe- he can be what she needs, too.
Fortunately she's the one that answers the door, as he leans forward so quickly to capture her lips with his that he feels dizzy. She surprised- there's a moment of hesitation in returning the kiss- but it's short-lived because suddenly she's returning it tenfold and she's not pulling away. Neither is he. That night changes everything and he knows one thing for sure: he cannot be without Annie Edison. Not anymore.