Chapter 3

Annie was trying her best not to be nervous, but it wasn't exactly a feeling she could fight. She brushed her hair, fluffed it, then brushed it again, before putting it up in a loose chignon. She flossed, for the third time, and swirled around Listerine to the point that her cheeks were growing raw. She thanked the heavens that it wasn't a real date, or otherwise she would be certifiable. Of course if she were really going on a date it wouldn't be with Jeff, so she would be able to text Britta, Shirley and Abed for words of advice or to just distract her.

She stormed out of the bathroom, knowing that staring at her reflection was just making things worse. She plopped on her couch and grabbed her laptop, hoping to find some exciting news article that would temporarily side track her racing mind. Instead, she looked at her shoes propped up on the coffee table, wondering if they really were the right choice. She rarely wore heels and these were nearly six -inch monsters, but had so many little straps and buckles she had no risk of falling out of them, and the bands around the ankles should prevent a sprain. Of course she knew that they went well with her dress, the very knowledgeable salesperson had spent so much time looking for the perfect match for her. She shifted again, wondering if maybe it was the dress that was her problem. She had wanted to look sexy and sophisticated, like a vampy Audrey Hepburn, but she wondered if that look really worked for her. The little black dress (the salesperson, Steve, had told her this was the one she had to have) was tighter than anything in her closet and covered in lace. The sleeves and area above her breasts were completely visible through the fabric, and the back was open to just above her derriere.

Okay, so she couldn't deny that it was an incredibly sexy dress and certainly made her assets look good, but she wasn't sure if she really had the confidence to pull it off, or if the dress and shoes and fancy hair were wearing her. She went to her closet and began skimming through the other simple, conservative a-line, just below the knee and above the cleavage dresses she had that would also be appropriate for the evening. Perhaps more appropriate since she didn't want Jeff to think that she thought that she would have a reason to wear a sexy dress tonight. He was being really sweet in taking her, and she didn't want to make him feel any more uncomfortable than he would already feel. She would hate for him to get the wrong impression and feel he would have to have that awkward conversation again where he told her that she was just a kid and that there was no way any sort of special chemistry brewed between them.

She paused, her hand holding a nice dress on a hanger that she would typically change into. Why should she change into a boring old dress just to make Jeff more comfortable? She had every right to wear a sexy dress, just like he had every right to wear those unbearably tight jeans that you couldn't not stare at. She may not have paid as much for the dress as he had on one foot of the denim he wore, but it had still cost her plenty. How could she just let that money go to waste, because she knew if she chickened out on wearing the dress tonight, it would be destined for a long, unfulfilling life in the back of her closet. Perhaps Jeff Winger only thought of Annie as a child, but that was no reason for her to encourage him to think of her that way. She marched right back to the couch, which was a bit ridiculous since between the tight skirt and the tall heels she could only take very tiny steps, and plopped back down with an indignant huff. She would be wearing this dress to the party and if her date, no, chaperone didn't like it, well that was just too damn bad.

There was a knock at the door and Annie squeaked in surprise. She quickly composed herself and rose, smoothing her hair and skirt as she trotted to the door. She knew by the lazy sound of the knock it had to be Jeff, and so she didn't bother to check before she undid the long row of deadbolts and sliding locks.

"You have got to move out of this place Annie," he said while she was still unsecuring the door.

"Find me a place with lower rent in a better neighborhood and I'd be happy to transplant," she declared as she finally swung the door open.

He looked perfect, of course. His dark suit was tailored flawlessly, and the grey silk shirt probably cost more than two month's rent. His expression, however, was not the typical smug Winger smirk. His eyes kind of bulged a bit, and his evenly stubbled jaw was slack. Annie thought she saw his breath catch and instantly felt a heat radiate from her core.

"Annie you…look amazing."

"Aww, thank you Jeff. I'm sure you didn't work half as hard to look twice as dashing."

Nice.

"Well, I did just happen to pick this up from the cleaners before you asked me to join you this evening. However, I found these on the way here."

Naturally he rallied like a champ and slipped right into his usual smooth demeanor. He held out a small bouquet of multi-colored roses and Annie felt that warmth begin to radiate from her core to her chest.

"You're so sweet! Here, let me get them in water. Besides, you really don't want to linger in this hallway." She took the flowers and let him in, only latching one of the deadbolts. She tried to ignore the fact that larger than life Jeff Winger was in her tinier than a walk-in closest apartment and didn't dare consider what he thought of her private space. She suddenly regretted just how feminine she had chosen to go with her decorating, but really it was what she could put together from what she had when she had left rehab and found out that she wasn't going to be moving back home.

She focused on cutting the stems and breathing in the scent of the obviously platonic gift. After all, they weren't the deep blood red someone gave a date, but pretty fall colors that could just as well go to an aunt or casual acquaintance. Still, her heart fluttered wildly and she knew she would be pressing at least one of the blossoms to keep in her cedar chest.

"Wow, Annie, how do you get any studying done here? That neon glare is awful!"

"Oh you get used to that. It's the nightly announcements that are really annoying. Keeps me up to date on all the sales, though, so if you ever have need for marital aids…"

"Uh…I, um, think I'll pass, but thank you."

She opened the top cupboard and even in her sky-high stilettos she couldn't quite reach the small glass vase that had wandered to the very back of the cabinet. Suddenly a shadow fell over her as Jeff easily reached from behind her and brought down the glass. She looked up at him, still towering over her, and was close enough to smell his aftershave and feel the warmth of his body.

"Thank you," she nearly whispered, trapped by the look in his eyes.

"You're welcome."

The rumble of his voice chased a chill up her spine and Annie had to fight the urge to visibly shudder. She turned her attention back to the flowers, hoping he wouldn't notice that her hands were shaking as she arranged the blossoms. He walked away and she wanted to weep at the new distance.

"So, uh, where is this little gallery anyways?"

"Oh! The directions are right here!" She went to her fridge and pulled off the flyer advertising the event, complete with directions to the Keystone Gallery.

"The Keystone? Annie are you sure this is the right place?"

She quirked her eyebrow, as the name was clearly printed right below the phrase "A Greendale Student Showing".

"Is there something wrong?"

"Annie, this isn't some little gallery. It's a major league art exhibition hall. Artists kill for a chance to show at the Keystone! Anybody who's anybody mingles at its openings. They always order the best champagne!"

Suddenly the butterflies that had been casually flapping their wings in her stomach turned into cocoons of lead.

"So this is…a big deal."

"I don't know what sort of sucking up this kid did to his father, but this is the kind of place that almost exclusively shows known artists. This is not going to be some little Greendale half-assed attempt at an art show, this is going to be the real deal."

"I think I'm going to be sick."

Annie braced herself on the counter as she felt the blood drain from her face. Greendale students were showing their work at a legit gallery and Annie was their work. She had comforted herself in the thought that it would be some dimly lit, dinky room that people would have to go out of their way to find. The event was only going to be attended by the people involved and maybe Garrett or Vicki because they just sort of appeared at anything.

"Annie are you – "

"Jeff, I really appreciate you coming tonight, but I think I'm just going to turn in. I mean, it's not like I painted the pictures or anything. I don't think I really need to go see some – "

"Annie, you have been giddy about this all week. I've had to convince the group that you're just really excited about some new sweater line at Target and that you aren't back on Adderall, you've been so hyper. You can't back out now just because people may actually show up."

"But Jeff! Real people are going to show up! People that know things about art and will just see me as some uninteresting piece of fruit!"

"What?"

"A still life Jeff!" she exclaimed as she began to pace the room.

"No one really cares about the grapes do they? No one thinks 'oh, what a fascinating shade that pear decided to turn, but my, isn't that apple wormy'! And it's okay because the fruit don't really care what people think so long as they don't get eaten! But I'm going to have to stand there and watch people look at me and critique the way I hold my hand! They're going to be so disappointed that they're staring at sketches of some awkward amateur who may in fact be less evocative in her poses than the bowl of fruit! I can't just stand there and watch people skim over me all night Jeff! So thank you for the roses, and I hope you can still make other plans."

She started to walk towards her bathroom, reaching for a bobbie pin when he grabbed her wrists and spun her around.

"Annie Edison you are not chickening out."

"But, Jeff, didn't you – "

"I don't give a damn about your little bowl of fruit speech, Annie. You are going to this showing. Why are you going? Because maybe then you'll see that you are far more evocative than a bowl of fruit. When people look at the sketches of you, they will see all the mystery of Mona Lisa. They will see the unashamed beauty of Venus. They will stand for hours just staring at the little curve of your chin wondering how something so small can be so mesmerizing.

"You cannot back out of this, Annie, because people deserve to know that you are a living, breathing, piece of art. No, I lied. People don't need to know that. You need to know that. Now get your coat and keys and whatever accoutrements you women need to carry and hurry up or I swear to god I will throw you over my shoulder and take you to this gallery by force."

Annie stood stunned for a moment, not sure how to take his onslaught of words. She was pretty sure he was complimenting her, but he was doing it in his "god, Annie, you are so annoying" voice so she wasn't sure what that meant. So she grabbed her coat and "accoutrements" and followed him into the hallway, careful to secure her door as tightly as Fort Knox.

oOo

Jeff was relieved that he had been to the Keystone enough times that he didn't have to think about where he was driving. He had spent the past week catching up on lost sleep, knowing that his struggle was hopeless and that maybe after tonight his fantasies would disappear.

Then she had opened the door.

He had almost needed a double take, for the sultry woman that answered Annie's door was a woman he could jerk off to without the slightest twinge of guilt, not the sweet, unconsciously attractive girl that had been keeping him awake at night. When she had turned her back to him to fix the flowers he had bought on an impulse, he seriously worried that he was going to rip the lining in the crotch of his trousers. He had seen her naked, and yet seeing her with back completely exposed and everything else just covered enough was enough to bring him to his knees with desire. He had been forced to imagine the dress on Pierce Hawthorne in order to cease his growing erection, and really, that was an image that should make him impotent for a week. Yet when he helped her with the vase and could smell that soft, floral scent of her skin and she looked up at him with those big blues eyes that seemed far darker than usual, he knew he was going to need something a lot more powerful than images of Pierce to get him through the evening.

Now she sat next to him in his very suddenly claustrophobic car, fiddling with his iPod until she found something that made her do a little bounce of joy.

She has got to stop bouncing.

Familiar chords and the voice of George Michael began to blare and Jeff shot a look at his companion, noting her wicked grin.

"Annie…" he warned, but she only laughed.

"Aw c'mon Jeff, I know you know the words," she teased before she started to sing along. He would only humor her because she was nervous and trying to distract herself. At least, that's what he told himself as he joined in at the chorus.

The drive to the Keystone Gallery was quick with Annie the DJ in charge of musical selections. She became quiet as he parked, though, and he quickly got out and opened her door before she had the chance. She looked up at him with those big, scared eyes and Jeff had the uncomfortable desire to do anything to distract her from her fear. He settled for extending his hand.

"Milady?"

"Jeff, do I really have to?"

She bit her lip and he was quite proud that he didn't become completely unglued.

"Yes, you do."

The fear turned into a pout, but she took his hand and got out of the car. He didn't let go of her hand, though, but threaded it through his arm.

"And you have to have a good time, too. It's the rules."

"There are rules?"

"There are always rules on a night out with Jeff Winger. Don't worry though, I'll let you know what they are when or if the need should arise."

He liked making her blush, even if he did always feel slightly guilty afterwards. However, in this case a blushing Annie meant a distracted Annie, and judging by the amount of cars in the parking lot, Annie was going to need a lot of distractions.

They checked their coats, but Jeff never let go of her hand. He led her into the main gallery, still in shock that Greendale students were even being allowed in the building, let alone showing their work. Before they reached the stairs descending into the gallery, a familiar figure appeared before them.

"Professor!"

"Annie you made it! And Mr. Winger, a pleasure to see you again."

"Hi there Professor."
"Annie, I'm so glad you could be here. I think you'll be really pleased with the story they've tried to tell here."

"I'm sure. Everyone's worked so hard this semester."

"Yes, well, they've had a wonderful subject to inspire them. In fact, when Jason's father came in to see his son's work, he was so impressed by the collection in my office that he suggested this evening's show. Initially I was worried to put everything on display, but it has turned into something so splendid. But here I am blathering when you haven't even seen anything yet! Go on and enjoy the show and we'll talk after. I can't wait for your reaction!"

Before either of them could say a word Carvelli swept off to speak to another small group. The man had never looked so animated and Jeff wondered if Carvelli saw the evening as a lifesaver being thrown towards him to save him from drowning at Greendale.

"Jeff, what do you think he meant about my reaction?"

"He's an art teacher Annie. He's probably hoping you'll comment on the genius way he's cultivated the little artists," he lied. Truly, he had found Carvelli's enigmatic statement a bit unsettling as well, but he wasn't going to let Annie sense his own nerves. He placed his hand on the small of her back, trying to ignore how incredibly soft that skin was, and propelled her down the stairs.

Immediately, he wished they could climb back up and peel away in his Lexus. The showing was not for the work of the students. Well, that was not entirely accurate, as the students had created every piece of art on display. Every single sketch, painting, and even a couple sculptures were of Annie. The entire room was filled with dressy men and women taking in image after image of Annie Edison.

"Oh my god," he heard her whisper, and quickly he grabbed two champagne flutes from a passing server.

"Don't move," he said to the boy as he handed one glass to Annie. They each downed the bubbly wine in a single gulp and Jeff returned the empty glasses to the tray and grabbed two more full flutes.

"Jeff…is it too late to run?"

"Oh, I think we're way past that point Annie."

"Oh my god!"

"Drink your champagne." He took this glass in two drinks then looked down at Annie. She was shaking and looked like she might faint or cry, but instead, she began to laugh. It wasn't a crazy, hysterical laugh either, but a giddy, mirthful laugh.

"Jeff…I'm the exhibition!"

"Yes, you are," he said carefully, not sure how to ride this emotional twist.

"You were right!"

"I was…what?"

"You were right! All those things you said in my apartment about the Mona Lisa and Venus! I really am evocative! I'm the inspiration of an exhibition! Betcha Caroline Decker can't say that!"

"Um, no, I don't imagine she – "

"Come on! Let's see what story I tell!"

She knocked back her champagne and set on another passing platter then grabbed his arm and began to drag him around the room.

Jeff didn't know much about art, other than certain things he had memorized to sound appropriately pretentious at gatherings such as this one, but he recognized that there was something special about the way the pieces had been arranged. Yet after the eighth piece Annie had dragged him to, he was beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable. All around him people were staring at Annie, murmuring about her, stepping closer to make out smaller details. It made his skin crawl to see them and hear them, and little Annie seemed blissfully unaware as she offered her own commentary about herself.

"Okay, my boobs are not that big."

"I um, well, you know what they say about artistic liberties," Jeff muttered lamely, wishing vaguely for the floor to swallow him up. Annie was completely oblivious to his discomfort as she continued to pull him around until they had seen every piece. It was far more naked Annie than his poor, straight male mind could handle, but he could only distract himself by looking at real Annie and that dress didn't make it any better.

Eventually people began to notice and recognize real Annie and soon she was surrounded by a throng of "art enthusiasts". Jeff remained firmly planted by her side, waiting to take out anyone who seemed a little too appreciative of the art. Meanwhile, Annie batted her eyes and flirted like she had been the subject of countless exhibits and this was just another droll Saturday evening in her life. Carvelli absolutely gushed over her and while Jeff was so uncomfortable with the whole situation he could scream, he had to admire the way Annie had over come her nerves. Really, he also admired the way she glowed under all the praise and attention. Her eyes danced and her typically animated mannerisms were ever so slightly subdued as she gestured with her…fourth…glass of champagne. Possibly fifth. Jeff hadn't been keeping track, but by the rosiness of her cheeks, he figured he should probably stop exchanging her drained glasses with full ones.

"So, how do you the boyfriend feel about all of this?"

Jeff was suddenly aware of a short man with a notebook staring intently at him, and realized that Annie had just spent the past ten minutes giving an interview. He froze for a moment, then saw the uncomfortable look on Annie's face.

"Oh, he's not my – "

"Well I have to admit, there's a large part of me that doesn't enjoying sharing something so special with the public at large. But, I cannot stand in the way of art and I think that if anyone should be recognized for her beauty and that certain spark that creates great art, it should be Annie Edison."

Annie looked at him with that hero-worship stare she reserved for only those rare moments when Jeff thought of himself last and he couldn't stop himself from leaning down and kissing her forehead.

"You do deserve this," he whispered to her, wondering if he should have been more concerned with counting his own glasses of champagne.

"Oh no."

"Really, are you – " Jeff pulled back to give her a confused look when she buried her face in his jacket, holding out the lapels to shield herself. Jeff looked around for the camera or whatever implement was offending her when he saw what exactly made her want to hide.

Five very familiar figures were slowly making their way around the room and once the blonde met his gaze, he knew they were in trouble.

"Please tell me I was imagining things?" He made out her words, muffled against his chest.

"I really wish you were. But they're coming over so you have to decide now whether we bolt for the door or stand our ground."

"Jeff! I couldn't run in these heels before the champagne!"

She unburied her head enough to give him a helpless look, but he did the only thing he could. Wrapped his arm around her and beamed the most genuine smile he could fake.

"Hey guys!"

He took quick stock of the group: Britta seemed shell shocked, Pierce was catatonic, Shirley looked ready to blow, and Abed looked, well, like Abed.

"Hey guys. Cool exhibit Annie. Your Pulp Fiction homage was a little obvious, but the Barbarella was bold. Very nice."

"Um thanks Abed. Hi guys."

"Annie, you're…you're modeling?" Britta choked out.

"That's not what they called it in my day."

"Pierce!" Annie squeaked and Jeff knew he should have gone with the option of throwing her over his shoulder as he had threatened to do earlier to get her to the gallery.

"An-nie, there sure are a lot of pictures of you here. Have you been...modeling…for a long time?" Shirley asked in a terrifyingly sweet voice.

"Just this semester."

"I see. You know, sweetie, I understand that money is tight for you, but you know you don't have to resort to something like this to pay your rent. We would all be more than happy to help you."

"Shirley! Annie, I think it's great that you feel liberated enough to pose naked and have yourself…displayed like this. Really, it's awesome. But you know, you're only playing into the idea that a woman has to be posed nude in order for her to be deemed beautiful. She has to be held to an unrealistic standard of what beauty is and I think you should be cognizant of the fact that – "

"Britta, shut up!" Jeff interrupted, unable to stand the way Annie was practically shrinking behind him. She had gone from being so happy to close to tears, and that mood swing was caused by the arrival of her "friends".

"Look, Annie and I have both been standing for Professor Carvelli's figure drawing class. It was just a casual, private thing, until one of the students' fathers, who happens to own this gallery, saw some of the class' sketches of Annie. She didn't know until tonight that she was the subject for the whole exhibition and let me tell you, there is no way I could have stood here the way she did if someone had decided to hang this many naked pictures of me in a room and invited strangers to come stare at them. But Annie took it all in stride, hell she even flourished, and not until you people came up did she blush or cower once!

"Now I don't know about you all, but I think that this exhibition is pretty awesome, and not because of the talent of the artists of Greendale. I think it's great that someone understood that there is something so incredibly special about our little Annie that she needs the biggest gallery hall in the area to show it. And I think that Annie has handled it brilliantly and that the rest of you should take in every damn doodle here the way I did, and think about just how impressive Annie is. Then you can apologize to her on Monday. Annie? I'm hungry and sick of listening to pretentious assholes drone nonstop about nuance. Shall we?"

He offered his arm and looked at her, still fuming from his speech. She looked stunned, but took his arm anyway and he led her up the stairs, paused at coat check, and exited into the parking lot.

"Hm, that was his Pretty Woman moment. Cool."

"Guys! They let you have as many of these little cracker things as you wan…OH MY GOD ANNIE'S BOOBS!"

Troy dropped the hors d'oeuvres he was holding and pointed to the nearest picture as the surrounding patrons jumped and stared.

"God I hate it when he's right," Britta muttered as she guided Troy from the gallery.