Chapter Three — Advanced Troy

Jeff's eyes widened in surprise when he saw in his friend's face what hid in his friend's heart. Like everybody else in the study group, he had often joked that at least one of the two might like the other more than like a friend—but no one never really considered the possibility, everybody thought that it's just a very special friendship.

Troy's and Jeff's gaze met for a moment, informing the former that the latter knew. Troy, looking at that moment like a child that was caught doing something forbidden, closed his eyes, turnt his head away and looked once more longingly at Abed.

There it was, clear as daylight. Jeff just had never before been able to see it: It was love.

And there was fear in that gaze as well, Troy feared losing Abed: 'Maybe we can't really be friends if there is sexual attraction,' Abed had said a minute before. For Troy, those words must have felt like daggers.

No wonder he did not want to play Twister with Abed. In Truth or Dare, he could—if necessary—just tell a lie if he were asked about his love interest. But when playing Twister, his body might involuntarily (and, considering Troy's size, unignorably) utter his true feelings, might britta his friendship with Abed, might even destroy it.

Jeff had to act fast and help Troy escape that situation, at least for now. In the long run, Troy would have to come clean to Abed, but at least this should happen at a time of his own choosing.

Luckily, Jeff was old—or older, as he would have said, because, like Shirley, he did not consider himself old, although both he and Shirley had seen almost twice the number of winters than Annie and Britta, Abed or Troy—anyway, he was old enough as not to surprise anybody when he, after having winked at Troy, he suddenly pressed his hand against the small of his back and screamed in pain.

"What's wrong?" both his friends asked in unison.

"It's ... argh ... nothing, but I ... I must have hurt my back pushing the couch out of the way."

"You wanna lie down?" Troy asked.

"That might be ... argh ... a good idea," Jeff said and lay down on the incriminated couch, whimpering silently. "But ... I'm afraid I won't be able to play anything like ... argh ... Twister ... tonight. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Abed said sympathetically, then shrugged his shoulders and went on, "but there's nothing to be done about that."

Troy—though trying to hide it, visibly relieved—said, "It's a shame … but Jeff mustn't play with an injured back. Back in high school, whenever a colleague from the football team hurt his back and didn't take it easy afterwards, that's when the real troubles started. Still leaves us Truth or Dare, though."

Abed nodded. While he put away the twister mat, he said, "You feel up to that, Jeff?"

"Yes, of course," Jeff said. "It hardly hurts anymore. ... But would you mind handing me my glass?" Abed handed it to him and Jeff took a big gulp. "Aah, that's the thing. Well then, let's get started!"

"Yes, let's do that!" Abed said cheerfully and sat down on the floor, cross-legged, his glass in front of him. Troy followed suit.

Both his friends sitting in this position, Jeff was once more reminded that he was not nearly as hung as his friends. He nonchalantly laid his hand across his lap in order to keep them from inadvertently guessing too much from his boxers.

"Who get's the first question?" Troy asked, as oblivious as Abed to Jeff's little problem.

"How about we cast a die?" Jeff proposed

Abed only had enough time to open his mouth and to raise his hand in protest when Jeff laughed and went on, "I was just kidding, Abed. The time lines, I know. ... Let's each of us draw a poker card, the person with the highest card starts."

A few moments later, everyone held a card in his hand: Abed had the Jack of Clubs, Troy the Jack of Hearts, Jeff the King of Spades.

"You know," Abed said, contemplating his card, "it's almost like that time when we voted on whether Pierce should stay in our study group or not. Except that back then Troy had the King of Clubs."

"But just like back then," Jeff added, "I'm glad Pierce is not with us.—My card is the highest, I begin." He sat up and bent down to spin the empty tequila bottle that Troy had placed on the floor. After a few rotations it pointed at Abed. "Truth or Dare?"

"I sayyyy ... Dare."

Jeff ruminated the options, then he pointed at Abed's glass and said, "Let's start with something easy. I dare you to down your drink."

Abed was not the least bit reluctant. He proclaimed, "Fee sihhatik!"—which Jeff thought must mean something like Cheers! in Arabic—, emptied the glass and put it with a loud clank! on the floor.

Then Abed opened his mouth, presumably to impart some of his wisdom unto his friends, but instead suppressed a burp and said, "This was a mistake, gentlemen. Pardon me," whereupon he jumped up and rushed into the toilet. As soon as the door closed behind him, Troy and Jeff, now alone in the living room, heard Abed noisily emptying his stomach.

Jeff had not intended this, but he decided to make the best of it. He beckoned Troy closer, so that he could exchange a few words with his friend without having to fear Abed's hearing them.

He asked what has more or less been obvious now, saying, "Am I right when I assume that you lo—... like Abed more than you like to admit?"

Troy hesitated answering—maybe he didn't want Jeff to know, maybe he himself was not completely certain, maybe he wasn't comfortable talking about it all, Jeff didn't know Troy's reasons. But then Troy nodded and slowly said, gazing through Jeff and through the couch at the place where Abed was, "I love him, yes. More than as a friend."

"And he doesn't know?"

Troy shook his head. "He doesn't." He sighed, and added, "And he mustn't. He doesn't love me."

"How would you know? Nobody understands him. Maybe he does," Jeff said, wondering how he never had seen his friend as sad as at that moment.

"I don't claim to understand Abed. Nobody can really understand somebody else—it's often difficult enough to understand oneself—, and understanding him is even more difficult. But I think I understand him enough."

Watching his friend's speaking so openly to him, Jeff sympathetically felt Troy's sorrow, felt almost as if it was he himself who was in love with his best friend. "But you don't know for sure," he tried to console him. And he repeated, a bit slower, laying his hand on Troy's shoulder, "Maybe he does."

Troy suddenly looked into Jeff's eyes. "You're right, I don't know. But I know what it would do to him if I told him. He isn't very comfortable with change." His eyes wandered back to the place where the person he loved was. "If Abed loves anything about us—I think—, it is the relationship we have; he maybe loves the way we are friends, but he does not love me," he said, putting his hand on his heart while uttering the word 'me'. "If I told him, it would only change and very likely destroy the relationship he is so fond of—a relationship I am very fond of as well." He heaved a deep sigh. "Would I like it if there were more? Absolutely.—But I will not risk what, what we have."

Troy heard Abed returning, nimbly got back to his former place–nimbly, taking his inebriation into account— and feigned laughing about a joke of Jeff's.

He had not thought that this would prompt Abed to ask, "What's so funny?"

"Oh, uh, ...," Troy fumbled for words. He looked at Jeff for help, but his friend had none to offer. Jeff still had to digest Troy's confession, and all he could do was gazing vacantly at Abed.

But before the silence got uncomfortable, Troy found something. "Jeff, uh, Jeff just said, uh, he said ... that the sounds you make when you vomit still sound better than Vaughn when he makes music."

Abed inclined his head to the left and said, chuckling, "It's funny because it's true." He poured himself another glass of tequila, drank a bit to get rid of the taste in his mouth, sat down again and spun the bottle. "Alright, Jeff it is. Truce—Truth or Dare?"