Chapter Text
Denny’s was for winners. And he wasn’t one. He was, however, a loser on multiple fronts.
Troy led an awesome operation, and Abed got his hands on something substantially more awesome.
He did not know how he’d let that one go.
In the end, Pierce got to save the day and mic-drop his way out of the study group. But there was no denying the true loss.
Annie.
She was more than amazing during paint ball. The soft and hard of her had solidified before his eyes. However, the light that normally lit her up from the inside shined for someone new.
It was time to retire his cowboy hat. It was so last year. She’d leapfrogged past him, seemingly comfortable with owning all that was visible to the world.
He always knew that would happen. Seeing it, however, was another matter. He’d stumbled upon the depth of her and rejected it as residing in his imagination.
Her D&D performance was merely a preview, the coming attractions for a young woman who was going to transcend him.
Off in the distance, he saw Starburns in his paint-spattered jacket. Annie was nowhere in sight.
“Thank, God,” he muttered, stripping off his button down, scrounging in his gym bag for a clean t-shirt.
“Jeff?”
In the late-afternoon sun, she was that much more beautiful, despite her disheveled appearance and unnatural orange glow.
He pulled his shirt over his head. “I would have thought you’d be with everyone else.”
Mainly, he meant Abed. As hard as it would be to look the other way, it was better than her galloping off with the Black Rider.
Last year, he was the one taking her home after that kiss. The one that came to him when he drifted off to sleep or appeared at the bottom of one too many glasses of his magical elixir.
“I didn’t feel much like celebrating,” she told him.
“Every year ends the same,” he lamented. “Someone tries to leave the group.”
“You think he will come back?”
“I don’t know.” More importantly, he didn’t care.
“It’s all my fault,” she alleged. Annie was always doing that.
“You expect too much out of yourself and not enough out of others,” he lectured, not meaning to be so condescending.
He was the worst offender of that rule. Suppressing his needs, whether right or wrong, was not a skill he had mastered. Last year, his impulses struck randomly, like lightening. This year, however, he had many opportunities to channel that energy.
And he failed time and again.
“That’s what happens when you’re my age,” she shrugged.
He slammed his trunk shut. “Age has nothing to do with it. It’s your nature.”
“Are you angry … with me?” she inquired earnestly.
“Why would I be?” She’d kicked his ass in more ways than one. Payback was hell.
“I don’t want this, us, to be weird,” she said softly.
He was the problem, not her. Rich, the Black Rider, and now Abed had more fucking sense than he did.
There would be others. And one of them was surely going to be the right one for her.
“Annie. You have to live your life for you. Don’t apologize for that.”
“So,” she inhaled, sucking in enough air to give him the kiss-off speech he deserved. It was a relief and wholly deserved. “I hope you have a good summer.”
Once again, the queen of hearts proved she had one, taking mercy on him.
“I might work for Ted,” he replied, keeping it casual.
“That’s great,” she smiled.
He couldn’t give her false hope. Committing to anything was not his thing.
“Or I might sit on my ass,” he confessed.
“It’s important to relax,” she concluded, giving him a pass.
“What about you?”
“I don’t know,” she fibbed, chewing at her lower lip.
“That doesn’t sound very Annie.”
“I am trying to be more spontaneous,” she chirped.
They were recycling some familiar lines from last year. His mind and body wanted to follow.
She observed his obvious stare and the direction it went, straightening her paint-saturated short shorts. He couldn’t help but register his approval for the umpteenth time since she went paintball bad ass yesterday.
“Mission accomplished,” he told her.
“I’m a mess.” She sounded apologetic, trying to dust off the dried remnants of her final scene with Abed.
Thankfully, he wasn’t there to witness it. Whatever happened between the two of them ended as abruptly as it started. At least, that was the way his mind filtered out what it didn’t want to acknowledge.
“When you commit, you go all in,” he returned.
He meant it as a compliment, but she didn’t appear to receive it that way.
“And you don’t?” she challenged. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but her inquisitive nature usually meant she was open again.
It didn’t seem fair to fall back into her grace so easily. “Do you really want to do this now?” he contested.
Her shoulders flinched, deflecting his reluctance or maybe her own. “I have to know, Jeff.”
“What does it matter?” he asked. She deserved the truth. He wasn’t positive he had it.
“I don’t want to wonder all summer. Like last ...” She could complete that thought with any half-assed endeavor he amassed over the last 2 years of her short life.
Their sequel was beginning to look like it was going to become a trilogy.
“I wouldn’t want you to do that,” he told her.
“Got it,” she replied curtly. “We’ll see what happens when school starts.”
Either she was the most trusting person in the world, or she’d inhaled too many paint fumes.
“That shouldn’t be enough, Annie.”
“What choice do I have?” she acknowledged brokenly. “We already said the group isn’t breaking up, except for Pierce.”
“You have options,” he implored, caught up in all that went unsaid. “Lots of them.”
“Not anymore,” she claimed. In a matter of mere minutes, he dragged her down with him.
He did his best to muster a modicum of optimism, something he couldn’t do for himself, but had to do for her.
“Lighten up, Annie.” He stepped closer, partially shading her in his frame. “It’s summer.”
Her head tipped up; her eyes tapering to slits, blocking his ability to read what came next. Damn, she was so brave.
“Don’t forget my birthday wish,” she reminded him.
“Have I yet?”
“You haven’t,” she agreed.
“And I won’t.”
Her chest expanded with the breath she stole. “Good.” For the first time in weeks, her features relaxed into a genuine smile. “I’m going to miss this place, but I could use the break.”
“You’ve earned it,” he concurred.
“I’m thinking of taking a summer class.”
“Why?”
“I’m a dedicated student.” Annie knew when to stay.
“Why would you torture yourself like that?” He stretched his arms, gesturing at the wreckage all around them. “This is … a disaster.”
He hoped she also had it in her to go.
“I’ve made something of myself in this place. For that, I am eternally grateful.”
“You may also have gotten robbed,” he quipped. He was the stick-up man on more than one occasion.
“Life is a gamble,” she grinned, a hint of Caroline’s sass restored, but that eternal sparkle that was all Annie. “I’m no longer afraid to roll the dice.”
Maybe he should keep the hat after all. This filly was feistier than he could have ever imagined. Wild yet so damn loyal. Damn if Troy didn’t call it.
It wasn’t the Year of the Horse. It was the Year of Annie. “It does appear our luck is changing here, in this one-horse town,” he twanged.
All the money would go to clean up the mess. Jeff didn’t have nearly the capital to restore the deficit he left between them. And yet, here she stood as if he was debt free.
“It only took you two years to see it my way,” she sassed.
“In craps, they refer to that as snake eyes, Little Lady.”
The tiny lines surfaced between her eyes. “Is that bad?”
“It’s not a great score,” he explained.
“Oh,” she deflated, the cutesy Caroline skipping town without warning.
“In some games, rolling doubles can be a good thing,” he redirected. “It means you get another chance to get it right.”
The beads of sweat were ready to break free by the time he could feel the heat of the sun bearing down on him.
Or maybe it was simply her silence.
She glanced behind her and off to the side, stepping back to take him in. She covered her eyes to block the glare, the shifting position of the sun moving fast, quickly setting on their second year.
“Maybe snake eyes are lucky then. That is if you like the idea of two,” she shrugged.
“I am coming around to the idea,” he admitted.
“Well," she paused, the apples of her cheeks rounded and rosy. "That’s my cue to saddle up and ride off into the sunset.”
He could let her leave without taking a further hit to his stupid pride. And it had taken a beating in the last 24 hours.
Abed advised him to go along with the Star Wars rebellion, equally ridiculous as the BFFs morning show routine. In relinquishing his position in the group, first with Pierce and then with Abed and Troy, new leaders rose from the ranks.
Downshifting his desire to control every outcome was counterintuitive to his form of survival.
In doing so, he had to give up the girl. There was beauty in a free Annie he couldn’t fathom before. By intentionally loosening his grip, he could appreciate the nuance in her more.
Unfortunately, he could also process the potential profit and loss of yielding to such a mindset.
The words tumbled out of him without warning. “You’re going to stay this time, right?” he inquired impulsively.
She laughed softly under her breath.
“Abed was right,” she mumbled.
Best to cut right to it. “I’d ask you about what, but I’m not willing to risk what’s left of my sanity.”
“Lucky for you, Jeff, I’m a gambling woman.”
“That’s a yes, then?” Even though he could hear the hint of desperation in his voice, it was nothing compared to the way his body prepared itself for the worst outcome.
“You bet, Cowboy.” She spun away, a slight swish of her frame carrying her away, ushering in the warm glow of summer. She planted her feet, turning back in his direction. “This town is definitely big enough for the both of us.”