Troy is sailing around the world, high on adventure and excitement, but that means that he usually doesn't have access to an internet connection.
Since he's been gone, they've only been able to Skype three times. Usually, Abed hogs the conversation too, so Annie only gets to say a few words to Troy before he has to run off to get supplies or hit the high seas again.
She lucks out late one night when Abed is at a movie with Rachel and she is at home working on her final project for Hickey's class and Troy just so happens to be available to talk. To start off, he wants to hear all about Abed and Rachel from Annie's perspective, whether she thinks they're a good fit, if she thinks that they will last. Then she has to catch him up on what's happened on 'Scandal' because Abed doesn't watch and Troy can't wait another nine months to know what's going on. He asks about her criminology classes because he has this vision of her opening a detective agency one day and he and Abed getting to wear all sorts of undercover costumes to do surveillance for her. He asks how Shirley, Britta and Jeff are doing, he asks if the committee has been able to do anything about the spiders in the men's room outside the cafeteria because it's his favorite, and he asks if Chang's fallen off the deep end again yet.
He doesn't talk much about himself, even when she asks about where he's been and what he's seen. She doesn't know if it's because he sees his journey as something personal and doesn't want to share it just yet or he just misses home that much.
"Oh," he says excitedly, just as they're about to end their session. "Almost forgot - I got a parrot! He's red and yellow and blue and totally cool. I'd show him to you but he's sleeping right now. And I haven't named him yet because I can't come up with anything that fits him. I set the bar seriously high with Annie's Boobs..."
She laughs, missing Troy so much more in this moment when she's actually talking to him and looking at him than she has in all the previous months combined.
Which may be why she finds herself blurting out "I slept with Jeff," for no reason.
Troy puckers his mouth in an astonished "O" and widens his eyes comically.
"Whoa. That is huge news… why didn't you lead with that?"
She shrugs.
"It's the first time I've even said it out loud. I haven't told anyone else…"
The fact that Troy is halfway around the world, without reliable access to communication devices, makes him the ideal person to tell. She won't have to face him tomorrow, she doesn't have to worry about him telling anyone, and he won't observe every moment that happens between her and Jeff with a keen analytical eye, trying to decipher every interaction for meaning.
It is a safe way to get it off her chest – and she has been bursting with the need to tell someone for days now.
"How was it?" Troy asks, lowering his voice like someone might overhear. "Cause Britta said that—"
"Troy! Don't be gross. I'm not telling you how it was … and I don't need to be reminded that I've slept with yet another guy that Britta did first."
"We've got a pretty small circle of friends. You gotta figure that there'd be some overlap. I mean, it's not like—"
"That's really not my point," she says. "What am I supposed to do now?"
Troy looks confused.
"What do you mean? Are you pregnant or something?"
"God no. But it's just… this is Jeff. You know how he is. And I think you know how I feel about him. But now I'm just supposed to be another notch in his bedpost and still hang out with him and be his friend? I don't know if I can do that."
"Why'd you sleep with him if there's all this unresolved crap between you?"
She sighs, because it is a valid question, one that she has been asking herself ever since that night.
"It just sort of happened," she says.
Troy nods.
"Yeah. I get it. I mean, dude's been into you since like… well, I kind of can't remember when he wasn't, so Abed and I pretty much figured it would happen eventually. But Abed thought it would be after some kind of significant event, like graduation, and I told him it would probably happen totally randomly, when you two just kind of exploded with all that unresolved sexual tension. That's what happened, isn't it? I mean, you two didn't do it at a wedding or an awards banquet or something, did you?"
"Troy, that's not—"
"I'm gonna tell you something and I really don't want you to take offense," he says, and she bristles immediately because whenever people say something like that, it's like they expect a free pass to offend you. "You think too much, Annie. Like all of the time. Sometimes, you just gotta let things happen, however they're going to. Maybe you and Jeff can't be friends anymore. Maybe you'll be even better friends. And maybe you'll get married and have a bunch of kids. Who knows? All the thinking in the world isn't gonna tell you what happens. You've got to let go a little and just see what happens."
She frowns.
"How does that help me now, though? You know, with the way I feel?"
Troy lifts his shoulders.
"Go to the diner on Grand Avenue and have a piece of their key lime pie," he says. "That always makes me feel better."
When she ends her session with Troy, she wants to tell herself that she feels better just having talked about everything, but it's not true. She is just as confused, just as tied in knots, as she's been all along.
She is overcompensating.
Since they slept together, she has gone out of her way to be exceedingly polite to Jeff. It is her clumsy way of proving to both of them that everything can stay the same between them, that their entire relationship hasn't unraveled because they spent four hours together in his bed.
So she has laughed at his jokes, given him the easiest committee assignments, maintained steady eye contact when they speak, snagged the last packet of fat-free honey mustard dressing for him when he was late to lunch the other day, anything to show him that things are fine and normal.
For his part, Jeff has mostly been himself. She half expected him to go into jerk mode, ignoring her or treating her like she's five years old again. But aside from seeming just a little hesitant around her, there is nothing about his behavior that would indicate that they slept together.
So maybe it's possible for them to just move on, she thinks.
With time.
Lots and lots of time.
Shirley and Britta invite her to join them at a self-defense class that they're taking one night after a committee meeting, but she has to clean up the study room after they spent all afternoon putting together mailers for an upcoming open house and she is tired so she declines. After they file out of the room, she notices that Jeff has hung around and is at the other end of the table, gathering up the leftover piles of campus maps and class schedules.
"Not in the mood to kick a little butt tonight?" he asks, with a smile.
She shrugs, smiling back.
"I've just got a lot to do."
He bobs his head and shuffles his pile of handouts against the table to straighten them.
"Plans with Jason?" he asks, and she can tell how hard he is trying to sound casual.
Still, the question alone nearly makes her drop the folders in her hands, and she covers only by clutching them against her stomach.
"No," she says, unable to meet his eyes. "It's not… I actually told him we shouldn't see each other anymore."
She sneaks a peek at Jeff, and he is nodding absently, like they are discussing nothing more than the weather. They finish cleaning up the table in silence, and she tells herself that if she is feeling tension, it is only in her own mind.
Because they are obviously fine. They are still friends who can chat about their personal lives without it getting weird or uncomfortable.
Everything is fine.
When they get all the folders put away in the right boxes, she smiles up at him, a little more brightly than is probably necessary.
"Thank you. I didn't expect anyone to stay and help, so it's … thanks."
He shrugs, lugging a box up onto the counter.
"You've been giving me all the softball stuff lately at the meetings. This is my small way of saying thanks."
They smile at one another, and for a moment, she doesn't have to convince herself that everything will be all right. Jeff cocks his head, like he's thinking carefully about something, and gestures toward the door.
"You want to go grab a drink?" he asks then. "Or something to eat?"
It is ridiculous, but the invitation catches her completely off-guard and she feels every inch of her skin go up in flames. Because a few weeks ago, he could have asked the question and it would have been harmless, an honest offer for food, drink and conversation. Now, there is the implication of something more, the promise of skin on skin, his fingers tangled in her hair, her mouth on his, his body heavy, warm, and perfect on top of hers.
If she isn't careful, she will find herself sliding into something dangerous and destructive with him.
She can't let herself do it.
"Jeff," she says, trying not to sound judgmental or scolding. "I just stopped doing the whole no-strings thing with a guy I didn't even like. I can't start doing it with you."
He scrunches his face in what can only be described as absolute confusion.
"Excuse me?"
"I can't do the whole casual thing with you," she explains. "I can't just be your friend all day and sleep with you at night. Because our relationship means something to me and I won't screw it up just for some sex."
He surprises her again by laughing – but it isn't his usual laugh; there is a dark edge to it that makes her take a step back from him.
"So you think our relationship doesn't mean anything to me and I'm willing to screw it up for some sex? Is that what you're saying?"
She sighs, shaking her head.
"No. I'm just … You do things like this, Jeff. You can sleep with someone and keep it separate from what you're feeling. I've learned that I can't do that. Not with someone I don't care about and definitely not with someone that I do."
"I just asked you to dinner, Annie," he snaps. "If you saw that as some sort of request for casual sex, that's on you."
"I'm sorry," she says, though she is anything but considering how quickly he's turned on her. "After years of having to read between the lines with you, I still get the message wrong sometimes. Silly me."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It means you never just say what you mean. Or feel. So I'm always left guessing. And maybe I'm just not that good at it."
She grabs her bag from the table, determined to get out of here before the conversation takes a really ugly turn. But Jeff is a step ahead of her, and he follows her to the door, holding a hand out to keep her from opening it. He is literally breathing down her neck, and she shivers even as her skin goes hot.
"You know how I feel," he nearly growls.
"How?" she cries, and she hates how whiny she sounds. "How would I know? Every time I've thought I did, you tell me I'm imagining it or too young or something equally insulting."
"That's the damn point, Annie. I wouldn't be so uncomfortable with all of this if it wasn't … you know, something real."
She turns slowly, so she is facing him and looks up into his face. She knows that her eyes are glassy, that he will be able to tell that tears are threatening, but she is too tired to care.
"Well, I can't do this …" She gestures at the small space between them. "If you're not willing to meet me half way."
He hangs his head, lips pursed almost petulantly, so she turns away from him again.
When she pushes on the door now, he doesn't fight her.
She isn't surprised to walk in on Britta and Jeff yelling at one another.
They fight on a nearly daily basis, usually over topics as insignificant as whether 'Thelma and Louise' is overrated or lime Skittles are better than green apple. The arguments can get heated, but they usually don't require intervention – they just sort of fizzle out on their own.
It's almost a relief to see them at each other's throats through the windows of the old study room, actually – anything that keeps Jeff's attention away from her seems like a good thing these days.
When she opens the door and hears what they're arguing about, though, she is surprised – and definitely not relieved.
"She's not some blow-up doll that you can take out whenever you feel like playing, Jeff. She's—"
"Yeah, because that's really how I see her, Britta."
Annie freezes in the doorway because it doesn't take a genius to know that they're talking about her. She has no idea how Britta could have found out that they slept together – she hasn't told anyone other than Troy and Jeff definitely wouldn't offer up the information willingly. Maybe Britta just sensed that something is off between them and made an educated guess as to what might be the cause.
"If you need some sweet, young thing to stroke your ego," Britta says. "Don't pick someone who actually cares about you. Because you're not just going to screw her over. You're gonna wind up screwing yourself over too."
"You don't know what you're talking about, Britta, so just can it."
Annie lets the door swing heavily behind her, so the blinds rattle against the glass and draw their attention. It's almost amusing, how they both look at her with matching deer-in-the-headlights expressions.
"What's going on?" she asks coolly.
"Annie," Britta says gently, taking a step toward her. "I was just trying to—"
"She was just butting her nose in where it doesn't belong," Jeff declares. "In stuff that she doesn't know anything about."
Annie crosses her arms over her chest and shakes her head.
"If you're talking about me," she says. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't do it behind my back. I know your heart is probably in the right place, Britta, but I'm not a child who needs protecting."
"No, Annie. It's not like that. I just …"
Britta looks at Jeff, who is in a defensive pose, hands at his hips.
"Do you mind?" she asks snidely.
He glares at her, his jaw clenched tight, but doesn't say a word. When he looks over at Annie, his expression softens just a bit, but she darts her eyes away before he can really get to her. He stalks out of the room a second later, the door banging closed behind him.
"Annie," Britta says softly, leading her over to the table. "Do you remember a few years back when my ex-boyfriend came to town and I needed a little help reigning myself in?"
Annie sighs, but bobs her head.
"I'm just trying to return the favor."
"Jeff and I aren't anything like—"
"No," Britta says. "Of course not. And you're much stronger than I am. But that doesn't mean you don't need a little help sometimes. We all need a little help sometimes."
There is something about Britta's sympathetic, understanding tone that sends Annie as close to tears as she can get without actually crying. Her eyes feel hot with it, and she hates that she could lose it all so quickly. Because as nice as Britta is being, talking to her about Jeff is pretty damn uncomfortable, given their history. And maybe there is still something of a child in Annie because there is part of her that sometimes can't help thinking that he was Britta's first and she is poaching yet another of Britta's guys.
But Jeff is a person, not a possession.
He doesn't belong to anybody – first, second or last.
She wipes at her eyes roughly, annoyed when her fingers come back damp.
"He just makes me feel so much," she whispers. "Even when I don't want to. Even when I wish it would all just go away."
Britta puts an arm around her, holding on tight.
"I know he can be a serious a-hole, but I really don't think he means to hurt you."
Annie shrugs, just a half-hearted lift of her shoulder. She feels very tired and very old all of sudden, like everything requires a little more effort that she can muster.
"But if that's what he does," she says. "Does it really matter if he means to or not?"
Britta sighs, nodding against Annie's shoulder.
"Wanna reenact the cliché from just about every stupid romantic comedy known to man and go get plastered?"
Annie laughs, but shakes her head.
"Okay," Britta says. "How about we pick up a pint of Ben and Jerry's and … wait, that's not really any better."
Instead, they wind up going bowling, and somehow between the ugly red and navy shoes and greasy nachos with day-glo orange cheese sauce, they wind up having a lot of fun. Neither of them bowls higher than 74 in any of their six games, but the guy behind the shoe counter gives them each a ridiculous little hot pink bowling pin made of plastic that they usually hand out to kids in tribute to their persistence.
When they say goodbye in the parking lot, Britta tugs on the hem of her jacket.
"At the end of the day," she says. "He's just a guy, Annie. And maybe it doesn't seem like it now, but there are a lot of them out there."
As she drives home, Annie tries to make that mean something, tries to find a way to use it to make herself feel better. But she goes to sleep, feeling lonelier than ever.
Sometimes, she thinks that the only thing that gets her through the ridiculousness that is her life is her sense of humor.
Because if she weren't able to laugh at the mess of crepe paper, deflated balloons, spilled punch, and smashed cookie crumbs, she would probably be crying.
When she thinks of the amount of time and effort that she put into this stupid end of semester dance, its ignominious end certainly seems worthy of tears. But then, she doesn't really know what else she was expecting – a riot over the Dean's decision to start charging for locker usage actually seems pretty tame by Greendale's craziness standards.
Still, she sits on the floor with back against the wall in the abandoned cafeteria, surrounded by the debris of yet another nice thing that she tried to do for this damn school, feeling utterly defeated. So when the door creaks open and Jeff walks in, she feels a stunning sense of relief just at the sight of him - despite the mess between them lately. He doesn't say anything as he comes to sit down beside her, so she just watches him.
There are moments when just being with him like this feels like enough, and she wishes that she could bottle that feeling, hold onto it for all the other times when she wants something more.
"Sometimes," he starts to say. "No. Strike that. *Most* times, I don't know why you bother with this place."
She nods slowly.
"Hickey told me the same thing once. I guess I'm insane. Isn't that what they say insanity is? Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result?"
Jeff picks up a scrap of torn crepe paper, twirling it idly between his fingers.
"I don't think you do it because you're insane," he says. "You do it because you're hopeful. You have hope that things don't always have to go to hell. Even here."
She frowns, staring down at her lap.
"Right," she agrees. "Because I'm just so naive."
"No. No, that's not what I'm saying." He laughs humorlessly. "You know, sometimes I wonder if I'm speaking a completely different language when I talk to you or something. Because you always misunderstand… or jump to the wrong conclusions."
When she looks up at him, he is smiling that soft, gentle smile that is all hers, and it's like the world suddenly starts spinning in an entirely different direction.
"Well, then, spell out it for me," she says. "So I can't misunderstand."
He bobs his head, almost like it is something he owes her.
"One of the things I admire most about you is that you're strong enough to have that hope. It doesn't come from being naïve, Annie. It comes from being brave."
"I don't know how brave I really am," she tells him, and she really isn't. But he isn't wrong about her being hopeful – she hopes all the time that one day she will be brave enough for anything.
She thinks suddenly of her one trip to Disneyland when she was 10 years old, how she chickened out of going on Space Mountain at the last minute because she was just too scared. She'd assumed that she would be back another year and could try again – but that was the last family vacation that they ever took. Her mother and father didn't divorce for another five years, but the cracks were already there, her world had already shifted.
Jeff shakes his head, and he looks as vulnerable and unguarded as she has ever seen him.
"I'm definitely not," he says quietly. "And that's why…"
He trails off, dropping his chin to his chest. It doesn't matter, though, because for once, she understands exactly what he is trying to tell her, no misunderstandings or wrong conclusions.
"But isn't that what being an adult is all about?" she asks gently. "Doing the things that scare you even when don't feel very brave?"
He smiles a little sadly and nudges the pointy tip of her heel with his boot.
"Well, see that's the thing, Annie. I'm not an adult. We both know that."
She feels immeasurably sad then and leans into him, her shoulder slumping heavily against his so he is practically holding her up.
"I'm trying to be one," she says. "But I don't know how good I am at it."
He presses his lips to her hairline, breathing out softly.
"You're good at everything you do," he says, and there is a huskiness to his voice, like maybe he is remembering their one night together, how they fit together even when they didn't really know what they were doing.
"Jeff," she sighs, curling her hand around his wrist.
"It's okay," he whispers. "It'll be okay."
She closes her eyes, trying to hope.
When she gets to the old study room, Jeff, Hickey, and Abed are already there. It's a little strange because the meeting doesn't start for another ten minutes and she is almost always the first person to arrive.
Things get stranger, though, when she pulls out her chair and find a blue plastic bag with something fairly large and lumpy inside. She looks at it in confusion, glancing around the table to see if anyone is watching her, but the guys are all otherwise occupied – Hickey with the newspaper, Abed with a graphic novel, and Jeff with his phone.
"What's this?" she asks, holding up the bag.
"Looks like a bag," Hickey says dryly, and Abed nods.
Jeff shrugs a shoulder, not looking up from his phone's screen.
"I know it's a bag," she says impatiently. "What's it doing on my chair?"
"Someone must have left it for you," Abed says. "We're the only ones who use this room and you always sit there, so it stands to reason that you were the intended recipient."
"Was it here when you came in?"
Abed narrows his eyes, pointing at the head of the table.
"Jeff was here first."
Annie glances his way. His fingers don't still on his phone.
"I wasn't really paying attention," he says.
She sits down, places the bag in her lap, and reaches inside. Her fingers touch something soft and plush, so she's not surprised when the object that she tugs from the bag turns out to be a stuffed animal. She is a little amazed, though, when she realizes that it is a stuffed dog - a stuffed black dog with a red collar and beautiful chocolate-colored glass eyes. She runs her fingers along its back, like she is petting an actual puppy.
"It's a dog," Abed says inanely.
She looks up in confusion, having almost forgotten that there was anyone else in the room. She glances over at Jeff, who is still playing with his phone but spares a quick peek at the item in question.
"Looks like a Lab," he says casually.
"It does," she agrees.
He nods, smiling faintly, and she smiles back, her cheeks warm.
"Who would leave you a stuffed animal?" Abed wonders. "Ooh, maybe it's from a secret admirer…"
She doesn't bother to respond, and luckily, Britta and Duncan filter in with a story about some psychology experiment that they're working on and its surprising results. Annie sets the dog on the table, just beside her seat, and any time someone asks about it, she just shrugs her shoulders coyly.
It's not really a lie to say she doesn't know how to explain it.
When the meeting's over, she takes her time packing up her stuff, so the rest of the group is gone before she calls out to him just as he is about to make his way out of the library. He turns back like he was just waiting for her to make the first move, but his smile is still just a little bit bashful.
She lifts up the dog, shaking one of its paws.
"Jeff. What is this?"
"I thought it could tide you over," he says. "You know, until you have a bigger apartment and time for a dog."
She lets out a shaky breath that is equal parts sigh and laugh.
"That is just…" She shakes her head, trying to find the words. She won't cry because that would be ridiculous, even if this is the kind of gesture that she never would have expected from him in a million years. "It's really sweet."
He looks pleased, but also a little embarrassed.
"Yeah, well…" he says. "If you tell anyone about this, I swear to God, I'm going right to Shirley and telling her what a filthy, blasphemous mouth you have when you get really excited. She'll be lecturing you and forcing you into prayer circles for the foreseeable future."
Annie laughs and steps closer, so the space between them is only as wide as the stuffed dog.
"My lips are sealed," she whispers.
"Well, let's not get crazy now."
He is grinning as he bends down to kiss her, and she doesn't care that it's happening in the middle of the old study room, with floor to ceiling glass windows in front of them that give everyone a free show. She loops an arm around his neck for better leverage and kisses him like she has been waiting five years for this moment. The poor stuffed dog is crushed between them, an afterthought at this point.
Jeff kisses his way to her cheek, his hands tangled in her hair.
"I don't know how to do this," he whispers, and he sounds nervous and unsure. There is something so boyish and charming about him like this that she finds herself holding him a little tighter. "And I really don't know how to do it with you."
"Me either," she says. "So we'll just make it up as we go along."
He smirks, the self-satisfied, know-it-all mask back in place.
"You can do that? Not have a plan or a roadmap or anything?"
The truth, of course, is that she is terrified of what they're about to start, but she is actually more terrified of what might happen if they don't.
So she makes the leap.
"I can try," she tells him.
He cocks his head, looking thoughtful. When he smiles, she feels it everywhere at once.
"So can I."