It's because they're probably not going to see each other for months and months that they go out for dinner.

Well, plan to go out for dinner. They end up with pizza on paper plates and a slightly uncomfortable couch.

It happens like because it's this Jeff-and-Britta thing, you know? They're friends in that weird unsettling way, not friends like Tory-and-Abed or Annie-Shirley-Britta, but friends in this way where they're on the verge of becoming friends with benefits but they're not there yet. Yet.

Jeff is all like, "we're going to go to a restaurant" and Britta agrees because she likes restaurants and wearing a nice draped shirt with a necklace or whatever, and restaurants are totally better than watching British sitcoms stoned.

(That was a date. This is not a date.)

She picks him up at his motel and he's wearing a new button down, which she totally mocks, and he says something about her spiky heeled sandals, which are admittedly a little dominatrixy but in this stylish way according to the lady at the store, and then Jeff argues with her over which radio station and then, eventually, they get to the restaurant.

It's on fire.

("Holy shit it's on freaking fire! Are they trying to pull an insurance scam or something?" are Jeff's exact words; Britta just raises her eyebrow and mutters "well fuck" in this sorta but not really impressed voice.)

Like, destroyed by fire. The reservation book is certainly part of the inferno.

And okay, they could go to another restaurant, but this was the nice restaurant and Britta wants to put on a tank top and watch TV and eat chips now. Fires are kind of draining.

And because Jeff is a mind-reader sometimes, he turns to her and is like "what about pizza?" and that's kind of that.

One half olive pizza, two sodas, three and a half bottles of beer later, half a bag of tortilla chips and mildly hot salsa, it's going to be that if Jeff doesn't call her this summer he's going to be forever and ever labeled as a total douche.

That's what happens when you get a girl's shirt off.

It's different than the paintball time because they're on a couch (wow, high school flashback) and kind of drunk and giggly, and less awkward cause hey, he's seen her naked before, right? And when it's over Jeff looks stunned, like his eyebrows look totally stunned because that's how he rolls, eyebrow-emoting, and Britta is definitely kind of drunk. But when it's over, Jeff sort of smiles- it's definitely not a smirk- and kisses her.

When he pulls away, he gasps a bit for breath cause wow, intenseness, and says "hey. Okay. Whoa. That... yeah. That happened."

She stretches all content cause yeah, it did, and agrees. "That totally did not not happen," and Jeff's like wait, what, but then he gets it.

"Still between us though," and Britta should totally find that a jerkass thing to say, like you sex the girl up and then, well, something or other and she should probably take a women's studies class in the fall, but she doesn't mind it being just between them.

"I like it being just between us." She smiles back over at him and Jeff actually smiles with his whole face. (She really brings out the facial expressions in him. He must like her, right?)

"You want to call for another pizza?"

And yeah, why the hell not, cause it looks like she's going to be seeing more of him this summer than she though.