Chapter Text
Shirley turned her head to one side, taking in Andre’s sleeping face, and stared at him for several moments.
“Andre?” She said quietly. “Sweetie? Are you awake?” She tensed as he shifted in his sleep before snorting and rolled onto his back, the arm he’d thrown around her waist disappearing as he pulled the comforter up and settled down again. She waited another minute before she carefully slid from the bed and padded out of the bedroom, down the hall and into the kitchen.
Shirley poured herself a glass of apple juice and settled at the kitchen table, running two fingers over the touchpad of her laptop and waiting as it booted from hibernation. She reached over and pulled a folder close, flipping it open and pulling out a photocopy of a competition bracket with names written in and each person’s odds of winning written at the bottom of the page. Her brow furrowed as she stared at the bracket, tapping a finger against her lips and then turned to the screen of her laptop, opening the internet browser and navigating to her Facebook page.
She selected the group at the left titled ‘Study Peeps’ and smiled to herself as it loaded, giggling quietly at the picture Troy had made for her in Photoshop: Seven marshmallow Peeps had been inserted into a photo of Study Group Room F. She selected a tab at the top of the page, and scrolled down until she saw updates from Jeff and Annie.
Annie’s posting was from about two and a half hours earlier. It indicated it was made from Facebook Mobile, and consisted of three paragraphs:
Total to date: 67
Total tonight: 9 (and it’s still early!)
3035982201
3037022393
3035332636
3034172198
3038197560
3036142161
3032611130
3031035130
3038613870 :)
There was a post from Jeff, made about 30 minutes later, also from Facebook Mobile, which looked similar:
Total: 70
Tonight: 8
3031089700
3034407700
3036358801
3038675309
3032121007
3034793302
3036147808
3032518987
Shirley nodded to herself and flipped her bracket sheet over, writing down the date, time and new totals next to Annie and Jeff’s names. Then she scrolled further up the page and read the latest update, which was from Annie’s cellphone about 40 minutes ago. Her brow furrowed deeper as she read the petite brunette’s brief posting:
Annie Edison
Forfeit.
Saturday at 1:23am via Facebook Mobile • Like • Comment • Share
Shirley tapped her pen against the table top and tapped the refresh button at the top of the screen, chewing her lower lip when no new posts appeared. She sat back in her chair and stared at her laptop screen, wondering whether she should try calling Annie at this hour. She drank the last of her apple juice and shook her head: It was late, and she was nearly five months pregnant. Whatever shenanigans the children were up to could wait till morning.
But as she slipped back under the covers of her bed, and laced her fingers through Andre’s when he rolled over and threw an arm over her waist, she couldn’t entirely ignore the nagging feeling that perhaps not everything with Annie was kosher.
(Then she grinned when she considered what she’d just thought to herself: And they said she couldn’t be open minded about other religions!)
***
It started with a discussion of chimpanzee mating habits in Anthropology. Specifically, whether the success of a male looking for a mate was affected by how much effort he expended. The class eventually devolved into Professor Duncan clicking through the Facebook profiles of Greendale students and the class shouting out where the students ranked on a scale of one to ten.
After class, the study group headed to the cafeteria to grab a bite to eat, though Britta’s outrage over Duncan’s sexist assessments of female students soon put the others off their appetite. It took Abed asking if she was only upset because she hadn’t been included to stop her mid-tirade.
“I am not!” Britta’s jaw dropped, and she made small noises of disbelief. “I don’t need to be judged by a bunch of people I don’t really know in some random class to know I’m the best-” She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes widening comically before she grabbed a carrot stick and popped it in her mouth, chewing vigorously.
“You’re the best what?” Jeff tilted his head and squinted at the blonde in suspicion.
“Nothing.” Britta replied quickly, her voice high and defensive.
“You think you’re the best looking person in our class.” Jeff said, placing both palms on the tabletop and leaning forward, as Annie snaked a finger out and dragged his lunch tray and the remnants of his salad out of the way. “And as we’re all in the same class, that means you think you’re the best looking person in our group.”
“What?” Britta’s eyebrows rose several inches, and she began shaking her head. “No. No!” She shrank a little as the rest of the group turned accusatory gazes on her, and her face crumpled a little as she chewed on the side of her thumb. “OK, but I don’t think it all the time!”
“A-Ha!” Jeff pointed a finger at her, even as his face twisted in confusion. Annie and Troy both put hands to their throats as they gasped. Abed raised a single eyebrow while Pierce mumbled something about uppity lesbians.
“Oh, Britta.” Shirley pursed her lips and shook her head. “That’s not nice.”
“I’m sorry!” Britta threw up both her hands as she shrugged, then crossed her arms over her chest and stuck out her chin defiantly. “But it’s not like you’ve never done the same thing.”
The others all spoke at once, denying any such thing, until Jeff held up a hand and drew his fingers together in a familiar gesture.
“Who wants to make this a little more interesting?”
***
The rules of the study group’s little competition were simple and finite.
One, the winner would be the first to collect 100 legitimate phone numbers in 30 days.
Two, the men would square off against the women.
(Britta had quickly protested this rule, saying it was sexist. Abed had, unusually, voiced his agreement, saying it wouldn’t be fair as the men in their group already outnumbered the women and, as Shirley was trying to make a go of it with her ex-husband, the women would be down even more.
Chang had stuck his head over the back of the banquette from the next cafeteria table and offered to take Shirley’s spot. Shirley directed a death glare at the eager man, who shrugged and said that if she didn’t want him, he should have a chance to participate in the nookie bowl. After the rest of the group finished groaning in disgust, Jeff pointedly reminded Chang he was, in fact, still married. Shirley also explained, in no uncertain terms, that if it Chang turned out to be the father and he played this game, she’d do whatever it took to keep him from being involved in the child’s life.
A deflated Chang withdrew his offer to participate and turned back to his lunch, grumbling quietly about “pushy sistahs.” Shirley reached over the banquette and smacked him upside the head.)
Rule two was changed to reflect the gender imbalance of the group: Jeff, Abed and Pierce would face off against Britta, Annie and Troy.
Three, a running tally would be kept though their Facebook group.
Four, all numbers would have to be written down or entered into phones and must be produced on demand if a spot check was requested by any member of the group.
Five, no instances of ‘I gave him/her my number so he/she could call me’ would be accepted: This was a contest to see who could collect the most phone numbers, not the other way around.
Six, a number from either sex could be counted towards someone’s total.
(Pierce had responded, predictably, that this was ‘gay,’ but when he was reminded it would help his final score, he relented and asked Jeff for tips on how to attract the fellas.)
Seven, there would be only one overall winner.
Eight, in the event of a tie, there would be a sudden-death round in the cafeteria. The first person to secure five additional numbers would win. Failing that, the winner would be whoever had the most by a margin of at least three.
Nine, numbers from other members of the group did not count.
Ten, no one was allowed to sabotage anyone else’s chance at chatting someone up.
With minimal complaining, they all agreed to the rules. A bracket was drawn up and photocopied, with Shirley acting as judge and referee, and the game was on.
Britta repeated her belief that it shouldn’t matter who in the group was the most attractive, was summarily ignored, and showed up the next day in a skirt and with an extra bounce in her ever-so-slightly curled hair.
(Chang snuck a copy of the bracket out of the study room and began quietly taking bets on each person’s odds of making it to the end.)
Pierce and Troy were knocked out of the Sweet Six: Neither of them managed to collect more than 30 phone numbers. Pierce blamed a lack of taste in the local female population. Troy blamed Pierce, who insisted on being his wing man whenever they were out.
Britta and Annie had awkwardly agreed to hit a few bars together, confident they would fare better if they played up the ‘two girls on the town’ image. It helped, but not enough to prevent Britta and Abed from being knocked out of the Final Four.
And so it was that Annie and Jeff found themselves facing off against the other in a fight to the prettiest.
***
There were only two days in the competition left: The final counts were due Monday at the start of their study session. Friday night, the group – sans Shirley – gathered at Flannery’s Wake, a generic chain that had opened in the old Flanagan’s Hole location.
But unlike Troy’s failed birthday party four months earlier, they met for drinks and dinner: Flannery’s Wake branded itself as a gastropub and boasted an extensive menu of fancy bar food.
The hostess stuck the seven of them in a roomy corner booth between the dining room and the bar, well within view of the server’s station and the TVs that all played basketball. (Except for two: One was tuned to CNN, which was Nancy Grace at this hour, and one that seemed to be running E! news on a loop.)
The evening started out promisingly: Thirty minutes in, Jeff and Annie each had three new numbers. However, as the hours wore on and the dinner crowd gave way to an assortment of 30- and 40-somethings out for drinks with friends, the sense of camaraderie around the study group made it difficult for either of the two remaining competitors to leave the table.
Eventually, Pierce excused himself, saying he had a date to meet. (Troy explained it was with a glass of warm milk and The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson when the older man left to close out his tab at the bar.) Abed was the next to leave, as he had to get up early the next morning to drive to a political rally up north in Cheyenne.
When Britta finished nursing her fourth and final vodka neat, she staggered to the ladies room, with Annie trailing behind. Troy went up to the bar to take care of both his and Britta’s tabs, then came back and leaned against the next table while he waited for the girls to return. Jeff eyed the younger man as he settled back against the booth seat and sipped his scotch, noting the absent drumming of Troy’s fingers against the tabletop and the alert way he kept looking around. Jeff squinted and cleared his throat.
“Troy.” He waited a moment before shaking his head slightly and raising his voice. “Troy.”
“What?”
“Hurricanes are bad, Troy.” Jeff held the younger man’s gaze for a long moment.
“I know.” Troy stared back at Jeff, raising his chin defiantly.
“And there’s a fine line between terror and excitement. It’s easy to lose track of it in the rush of a storm.”
“I know.” Troy blinked slowly and stood up a little straighter.
“OK.” Jeff nodded. “Just remember how shitty FEMA is at disaster response.”
“Dude, there’s a point where every metaphor falls apart.” Troy’s eyes widened. “And I think you just reached it.” He looked over and stood up from the table as Britta and Annie approached, the brunette holding a hand near the blonde’s elbow as they wove between tables. “Hey. You ready to go?”
“Yeah.” Britta made a face and stuck out her tongue. “Annie, could you pass me my bag?” She swayed a little as the brunette leaned over and retrieved the messenger bag. “Thanks. Night, Annie.” She stepped forward and threw both arms around the younger woman’s shoulders, pulling her into a hug. “Sorry I puked in the sink.”
“It’s OK.”
“Sorry some of it got on your shoes.”
“It’s OK, Britta.” Annie smiled and patted the blonde on the back before looking over at Troy. “Maybe you could stop at a gas station and get her a bottle of water?”
“Yeah.”
“Annie.” Britta pulled back to look the brunette in the eye and assumed a serious expression. “Annie. I need to tell you something.” She swayed forward, her forehead banging into Annie’s sharply. “Ow. Oww.” She moved her head to Annie’s ear and dropped her voice to a whisper. “I know you can win this.” She leaned back and gave the brunette a kind smile. She turned to look over at Jeff and her smile dimmed a little. “Night, Winger.”
“Night, Hooch.” Jeff saluted Britta with his glass. He looked back at Troy. “Hurricanes, Troy.”
“I know, Jeff.” Troy shook his head before looping one of Britta’s arms around his shoulders and leaned over to kiss Annie on the cheek. “Night, Annie.” He glanced back at Jeff and dropped his voice. “Kill ‘im, Edison.”
“OK.” Annie laughed. “Night, Troy. Bye, Britta!” She waved as they left before turning back to the booth, and slid back onto the seat, picking up her drink and swirling it around before finishing it off. She looked around the empty dining room, then looked over at the bar area. She glanced over at Jeff. “Want to take this party over there?”
Jeff followed her gaze to the bar, which was still fairly busy, then looked back at Annie. He wasn’t sure if it was the scotch or the dimmed lighting in the dining room, but he found the curl of her hair where it lay against her shoulders strangely intriguing. Shaking his head to break whatever Annie-induced stupor he’d slipped into, he glanced down at his watch.
“It’s nearly midnight.”
“It’s only-” Annie tapped the screen of her cellphone and read the time. “11:10.” She looked up at him and raised a single eyebrow. “If you think I’m going to let you stay here and pick up more numbers just so you can win, you’ve got another thing coming.” She shook her finger at him. “The force of the power wag compels you.”
“That’s not-” Jeff started, then stopped and looked down into his glass. “Whatever.” He slid out of the booth, waiting until she also stood before heading toward the bar. When they were both settled on their stools, Jeff leaned on the bar and waited till he caught the eye of the bartender.
“I’ll have another scotch, neat.” Jeff held up his glass before setting it down. “And the lady will have-” He turned to Annie, who was leaning to look around him and survey the crop of men. “Annie. Annie.” He sighed in exasperation. “Edison.” He said sharply, smiling and nodding to the bartender when her gaze snapped back to meet his. “What’re you drinking again?”
“Jeff.” Annie rolled her eyes. “I can’t order my own drink.”
“Uh huh.” Jeff looked over at the bartender. “She’s still deciding.” He turned his attention back to the brunette as a fresh glass of scotch was set down at his elbow. “And why can’t you order your own drink?”
“Because then how will I get the phone number of whatever guy comes up and offers to buy me a drink?” A bright smile lit up Annie’s face, and she shifted on her bar stool, crossing her legs and tucking her hair behind one ear before smoothing a hand over her skirt where it stretched across her thighs.
Jeff watched her intently, then noticed she wasn’t actually looking at him. He followed her gaze to a spot over his shoulder and zeroed in on the guy with shaggy blond hair that brushed the collar of his Oxford shirt – the same guy whose eyes were following every movement Annie made and grinning. Jeff grunted and turned to face the bar, taking a sip of his scotch and focusing his attention on the nearest TV.
“I’m sorry, Jeff.” Annie said absently as she gave her hair a toss and looked away before returning her eyes to the shaggy haired blond. “Did you say something?”
“No.” Jeff said, pulling out his cellphone and opening up his Bejeweled app. “Just…” He nodded up at the TV. “Seacrest.”
***
The crowd at the bar thinned out considerably after midnight. Annie began to droop around a quarter to one, propping her chin up in her hand and playing with the straw in her Brown Pelican as Jeff explained the intricacies of fantasy league sports.
She looked up from her glass, where she’d been using the straw to dribble liquid over the slowly melting ice, and looked over at Jeff. He was the most animated she’d seen him all night – with the exception of when he and Troy had quizzed Abed about the rally the younger man was going to the next day – and she smiled as she traced the line of his profile with her eyes.
(Sure, it was a little fuzzier than she was used to, but she’d only had a few sips of Abed’s beer. She wondered for a moment if Jeff was actually getting fuzzier as the night wore on – like, maybe, he suffered from some horrible, wasting condition that caused his skin to break down at a molecular level around midnight.
She blinked, coming back to the sound of his voice as he explained some apparently key factor in choosing players for your fantasy league team, and decided she needed to not marathon Fringe on the weekends.)
Annie looked away from Jeff’s face, glancing around the bar and noticing a leggy, porcelain-skinned brunette who was sipping a cosmopolitan with one eye on the after-game show and one eye on Jeff as he sketched something out on a cocktail napkin. She looked back at Jeff, who was intent on whatever he was drawing out for her, and then glanced own at her cellphone, watching as the display changed to 1:05 a.m. She put a hand over her mouth as she yawned, then leaned forward, putting a hand on Jeff’s forearm and waiting until he looked up at her, his brows drawn together over the bridge of his nose.
“What?” One of Jeff’s brows quirked upward when Annie smiled at him softly, but his face relaxed as he matched her smile with one of his own.
“I don’t want you to worry.” She patted his arm and swallowed thickly. “I’m not really upset.”
“Annie?” Jeff’s pen dropped to the bar top with a quiet clink, and he put a hand over the one that lay on his arm. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Annie looked away quickly and shook her head, her eyes shut tight. “There’s nothing wrong.”
“Edison, what’s wrong?” Jeff moved his hand to her upper arm and stood from his stool, looming over her with a look of concern.
“Oh, Jeff.” Annie put her hand on his where it held her arm and shook her head again before looking up at him with wide eyes. “There’s a brunette at 4 o’clock who’s been watching you for the last 15 minutes.” Annie blinked rapidly and forced herself to smile, though her lower lip trembled. “She’s never going to come over here if she thinks we’re here together.”
“I don’t understand.” Jeff leaned down, the look of concern on his face growing more pronounced.
“I’m making it look like I’m walking out on you. If she’s not over here in 10 minutes, then I know nothing about other women.”
“You-” Jeff paused, swallowing and closing his eyes for along moment before opening them to look down at Annie in disbelief. “You’re being my wingman?”
“Yep.” She bit her lower lip and looked away, taking a deep breath before she looked back up at him. “Sit down, Jeff.”
“OK.” He sat down heavily on the bar stool, and stared unseeingly at the carpet. Annie stood, dislodging his hand from her arm and pulled out a twenty, tucking it under her empty glass and taking a step out to the side. She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, catching his chin her hand and turning his head so she could look him in the eye.
“Have fun.” She slid her fingers from his chin to his cheek and gazed at him sadly for a moment. “I’ll see you Monday.” She turned to walk away, but Jeff reached out and caught her hand, tugging her back.
“Why are you doing this?” Jeff kept the look of concern on his face, but his eyes were skeptical.
“What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?” Annie squeezed his hand and gave him a small, genuine smile. “This was just a bit of fun: It’s not as important to me to win as it is to you.” She squeezed his fingers again, then pulled them away and headed toward the doors, retrieving her coat and scarf from the coat room.
Jeff stared after her for a full minute, absently rubbing his fingers together, and then turned back to the bar. It was several moments before he realized someone had sat down on the vacant stool next to his. Turning his head, he found himself face to face with a sandy brunette with deep blue eyes and a small mole on her left cheek. She smiled as he met her eyes and leaned one arm on the bar, her blouse gaping open just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the lace edging her bra.
“Hi.” She drawled, running a finger around the rim of her Cosmo. “My name’s Andrea, and you look like you could use another scotch.”
“Jeff Winger.” Jeff held out a hand, blinking when she placed her own cool fingers in his as though she expected him to kiss her hand. “I could use another drink, but I think I’m done with scotch for the evening.”
“Really?” Andrea said, rolling the ‘r’ and drawing out the ‘ly.’ “And what would you like instead?” She waved the bar tender over and gestured in an ‘after you’ movement to Jeff.
“Coffee. Cream, two sugars.”