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Annie tries to hold off on asking. Really, she does. She could have blurted it out the very first time they slept together and she didn't, because even she could tell it was too soon. And then the second time happened, and afterwards Jeff acted like it had been some kind of relapse, a second mistake, and so Annie kept her mouth shut, because it wasn't relevant if that was all it was. And Annie was willing to accept that was all it was, because Jeff is... well, Jeff, and she's not that idealistic, and it's not like she doesn't like sleeping with him in its own way.
She has no ulterior motives to ask him to help her with one of her business class assignments. It goes without saying that they'll work on it in the library, but someone sets a trashcan on fire a day before the two hours of his time he agreed to give her, and the library is closed until further notice, so she ends up going to his place to study.
It's a study date. Like a study date. She doesn't expect it to be anything else until it is, until he steps into her space, leaning over her where she's sitting on the couch, and kisses her.
When she leaves, she deliberately leaves her bra in his room, because, whatever, trick as old as time. He doesn't even mention it, as an accusation or otherwise, when she shows up a couple of days later to collect it. He just invites her in and she follows him into the kitchen and apparently when he orders pizza, he orders enough for two, so she has some, and then they have sex on the kitchen island.
And then Annie makes Jeff help her clean it, because ew.
And then they have sex in the shower.
It's not the last time they have sex that week. It's not even the last time they have sex that day.
The next time they have dinner, she doesn't even bother with an excuse. She just shows up with takeout, and he tells her to come in, and they watch a movie and halfway through they're done eating and Annie figures they've done this enough times that she can initiate.
So she does.
Afterwards, she realizes there's no reason she shouldn't ask anymore. Because it's been going on, it's not something that happened once or twice, and Annie's not anyone's inflatable doll that they can just invite over and screw. Annie's a human being.
"We've slept together twelve times," she mentions casually. Or, as casually as she can make it sound, which isn't very casually at all. She's been counting. Twelve times is still within the realm of easy to keep track of.
"Have we?" Jeff says dismissively, pulling on his pants and sitting down on the couch.
"Twelve times. And, I don't know about you, but to me that's kind of a—a thing." A relationship, she wants to say, because it is, even if it's not a romantic one or whatever. But she's afraid he'll freak out if she uses that word, so she refrains.
"Okay," Jeff says. He sounds condescending.
Annie decides he deserves to hear the word, but she doesn't use it anyway. "Look, I like the sex and everything, but I can't—I can't keep having it if I don't know what I'm doing."
"You've been doing well so far."
"So what are we?" she says, ignoring him. "There has to be something. Some kind of term. We've had sex twelve times, and we've practically had two dates—"
"Study dates," Jeff clarifies.
Annie looks at him pointedly, because this wasn't a study date. Not even originally.
"So we're not dating, so what are we? Fuckbuddies?"
Jeff cringes and hides half his face in his hands. "Never say that again."
"Yeah, I mean," she agrees, "we're not really buddies, so we can't be buddies who fuck."
"Annie," Jeff warns, and Annie throws her hands in the air.
"What? Twelve times, Jeff. You need to confront this."
"That's exactly what I've been trying not to do," Jeff retorts.
Annie stares at him for a while. Then, she says, "Well, I'm not going to—"
"I'm old enough to be your dad," he cuts her off.
"Only if you'd gotten someone pregnant in high school," Annie says helpfully.
"Wow, that's not even in the vicinity of my point," says Jeff.
Annie takes a deep breath. "Okay. Fine. So what are we? In your opinion?" Jeff shrugs, and she adds, "Are we even something?"
"I guess," Jeff offers, sounding honest for the first time in the entire conversation.
"So what is it?"
"I don't know," Jeff says. Annie would be affronted, but he doesn't look like he's panicking or anything. He's shrugging and his face is unusually soft and his voice is actually kind of sweet.
Annie frowns. "You don't know?"
"I didn't exactly plan this," Jeff points out.
"Neither did I," Annie says.
"I don't want to screw you over," Jeff says. "Contrary to popular belief, screwing people over is not always my goal. But that doesn't mean I know what I'm doing. Or why I'm doing it." His tone is accusatory now, like Annie's supposed to know these things, which she isn't. She totally isn't.
"So we should stop doing it," Annie says.
"Yes," says Jeff. "Actually, yes, that is exactly what should happen."
Annie rises to her feet—she was sitting in an armchair—and joins Jeff on the couch. His elbows are still on his knees, and he doesn't turn to look at her when she first sits. "What happens if we don't?" she says softly.
He faces her then. "We don't," he answers, sitting up and straightening his shoulders. She smiles at that, and meets his eyes.
She's going to say she doesn't know if she can deal with that, but then his mouth's on hers and her arms go around his neck of their own accord.
She guesses she can handle no answers, at least for a little while.